That Time the Prosecco Fountain Exploded
It was a Friday night in December – peak Christmas madness. You could smell the mulled wine and a distinct whiff of sheer, unadulterated panic. The Christmas lights were twinkling, Slade was blasting from the speakers, and "The Fox & Firkin" was rammed with hungry, slightly tipsy customers. Naturally, we were short-staffed. Sarah had called in sick (again – I was starting to think she had perfected the art of duvet days and daytime TV), and poor Tom, bless him, was on his third shift ever as a bar back.
I was stuck on the pass, trying to prevent the kitchen from complete meltdown. Chef Dave was yelling about missing parsley, and Maria, the pastry chef, was muttering darkly about the erratic oven temperature. Then came that sound. The unmistakable crash of shattering glass, followed by a collective gasp and nervous giggles from the bar.
“Prosecco fountain’s down, boss!” Tom yelled, his face as red as a beetroot. I saw the sad, sparkling remains of our pride-and-joy fountain and a growing puddle of fizz spreading across the freshly mopped floor.
Look, a broken glass? Annoying. A spilt pint? Manageable. But a Prosecco fountain exploding on the busiest night of the year? It felt like a sign from the gods. And not a good one.
I’d hired Tom a few weeks before. He’d been painfully shy during the interview, barely making eye contact. He mumbled something about needing the money and having "some experience" washing dishes. I took a chance because he seemed genuinely eager, and let's be honest, we were desperate. He looked like a startled rabbit most of the time.
But then, facing this Prosecco-soaked disaster, Tom surprised us all. He took a deep breath, grabbed a stack of bar towels, and started mopping up the mess with surprising speed. He even managed a weak smile. “Don’t worry, everyone,” he called out. “Just a bit of festive cheer gone wrong! Free Prosecco shots for anyone who helps clean up!”
And you know what? It actually worked. Some customers, amused by the chaos, pitched in, and within minutes, the situation was under control. Crisis averted.
What Actually Happened
Later that night, after last orders and stacking the chairs, I found Tom scrubbing the floor like his life depended on it.
“You handled that really well, Tom,” I said, genuinely impressed. “I thought you were going to run for the hills.”
He shrugged. “I was terrified,” he admitted. “But I figured someone had to do something. And you looked busy.”
That was Tom in a nutshell. He lacked confidence, sure, but he had a good heart and a real willingness to learn. Over the next few months, I watched him slowly come out of his shell. He started asking questions, taking initiative, and even cracking jokes with the regulars. He learned how to pour the perfect pint, deal with difficult customers, and navigate the crazy dance of a busy shift.
Then one day, Sarah called in sick again. I was already drowning, dealing with a broken dishwasher and a late delivery. I needed someone to step up and take charge of the bar for a few hours.
I looked at Tom. He looked back, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and something that might have been determination.
“Can you do it, Tom?” I asked. “Can you run the bar for a couple of hours?”
He hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, barely a whisper. “Yeah, I think I can.”
And he did. He completely nailed it. He handled the orders, managed the staff, and even dealt with a particularly grumpy customer who complained his Guinness wasn’t “creamy enough.” When I finally managed to sneak a break and check on him, he was behind the bar, looking like he’d been born there.
He was still a little nervous, but there was a new glint of confidence in his eyes. He’d found his place.
A few weeks later, I had to call a team meeting to discuss menu changes and new service procedures. I always dreaded these meetings. Standing in front of the whole team, trying to sound authoritative and organised, always felt incredibly awkward. My first attempt, years ago, had been a total disaster. I’d stammered, forgotten what I wanted to say, and ended up just mumbling something about "working hard" before fleeing the room. I still cringe thinking about it.
I was particularly worried about this one because the changes were pretty big, and I knew there’d be resistance. I could feel the tension in the air as everyone gathered in the back room. Chef Dave was scowling, Maria looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, and even George, our longest-serving waiter, who's usually so cheerful, seemed unusually subdued.
I started to speak, my voice wobbling a bit. I explained the changes, trying to be as clear as possible. But I could see they weren’t buying it. They were restless, skeptical, and clearly unhappy.
I was losing them. I could feel it.
The Bit Nobody Talks About
What nobody tells you about running a restaurant or bar is that you're not just running a business, you're managing a family. And like any family, there are going to be disagreements, arguments, and moments of pure, unadulterated chaos. You're responsible for everything, from the leaky taps to the staff morale. And sometimes, it feels like you're drowning.
One of the toughest things is getting your team to believe in your vision. It's easy to tell people what to do, but it's much harder to make them want to do it. That means trust, communication, and actually listening to their concerns. It also means being vulnerable, admitting when you're wrong, and showing them you're human.
Back in that meeting, seeing the negativity radiating from the team, I knew I had to try something different. I stopped trying to be "the boss" and just started being myself.
“Look,” I said, “I know these changes are a pain. I know they’re going to mean extra work. But I honestly believe they’re going to make things better. We’re losing customers because our menu is getting stale, and our service isn’t as good as it should be. We need to change, or we’re going to go under.”
I paused, took a deep breath, and admitted something I’d been avoiding. “I’m not always sure I’m doing the right thing,” I confessed. “I make mistakes. I get things wrong. But I’m trying my best. And I need your help.”
Then, George, bless his heart, spoke up. “Come on, everyone,” he said, his voice surprisingly firm. “The boss is right. We can’t just keep doing things the same old way. We need to give it a go. And besides,” he added with a twinkle, “I’m sure we can all find some creative ways to make these new dishes even better!”
That broke the tension. People started to laugh, share ideas, and offer their support. The meeting ended on a much more positive note than it had begun. And, surprisingly, the changes went through smoothly and successfully.
What I'd Do Differently Now
Looking back, I see that my biggest mistake was trying to be someone I wasn’t. I thought I had to be the strong, decisive leader who always had the answers. But that’s not me. I’m a hands-on owner who cares about my team and my customers. That’s what I should have focused on from the start.
Now, when I have to talk to the team, I try to be as honest and open as possible. I explain why I’m making the decisions I am, I listen to their worries, and I ask for their thoughts. I also try to create a more collaborative environment where everyone feels comfortable sharing ideas.
I’ve also learned how important it is to recognise and reward good work. A simple “thank you” can go a long way, but sometimes, you need to do more. A bonus, a night out, or even just a shout-out in the staff meeting can really boost morale.
And I’ve realised it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. In fact, it can actually make your team stronger. When you show you’re vulnerable, you make it safe for others to do the same.
I also learned something from Tom. Sometimes, all it takes is a little initiative and a willingness to step up to make a big difference. We started encouraging him to train new staff, and he was brilliant at it. He had the patience and understanding to guide them through those initial nerves. He remembered what it felt like to be the newbie, and he used that to help others. He’s now our shift supervisor, and I couldn't be prouder.
Finally, learn to laugh. Hospitality is stressful, and it's easy to get caught up in the details. But it's important to remember we're all in this together. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is take a step back, crack a joke, and remember it's just a job. Maria, the pastry chef, is now my go-to person for lightening the mood. Her dark humour and sarcastic comments are often exactly what we need to cut through the tension.
For Your Venue
So, what can you learn from all this? First, remember your team is your most valuable asset. Invest in them, support them, and create a culture where they feel valued and respected.
Second, be yourself. Don’t try to be someone you’re not. Being genuine is key to building trust and inspiring your team.
Third, don’t be afraid to ask for help. You don’t have to do it all alone. Lean on your team, your mentors, and other restaurant and bar owners.
And fourth, remember to laugh. It’s the best medicine for the stresses of the hospitality industry.
Finally, keep an eye out for the quiet ones. Sometimes, the most unassuming people have the greatest potential. Give them a chance to shine, and you might be surprised what they can do. Just like Tom, who went from a nervous bar back to a confident leader – all it took was a little trust, a little encouragement, a lot of Prosecco. And a very, very big mop.
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