downtown dinner with M and Sam

I no longer know the trendy new restaurants. So when M visits, we rely on her son Sam to tell us. 

Our reservation is at 8, as I work until 7:15 on Sundays.

This morning I get up early. I take my time getting ready as I don't need to be at work until 12:30. I go out, buy some breakfast food, and plan to have a leisurely breakfast. I watch Chuck Todd on Meet The Press. I do some emails. Update my calendar. And then, around 10:20, right before I sit down for a bagel-lox-and-cream cheese open sandwich, I see that today I'm actually scheduled for the Early Shift. Early Shift means being at work by 10:30. (I still can't believe I have a job that entails using the word shift). 

I skip breakfast. Race out the door. And make it in by 11, just as the store opens. It's an awful day. I earn about $72, much less than what I once got paid hourly. It's thoroughly demoralizing to work hard and make less than the cost of a nice tee shirt. Even if I make it up the next day, it still makes me sad to go home having earned next to nothing, and sometimes, even nothing — despite having helped customers, opened cash registers, replenished supplies, processed returns, carried lots and lots of garments out of dressing rooms to the restock area, and re-hung clothes. I'm required to do a lot besides sell, yet I only get paid when I sell. Retail is a tough business.

But it does offer a few perks. I get my makeup done before leaving.

I meet M and Sam downtown at the restaurant Sam has chosen.
 

Sam just got engaged to Josie; they've been together since college and are a great couple. I adore Sam, having known him from his first few days on this planet. He and Josie make a gorgeous couple, and complement each other beautifully.

This small, busy restaurant is excellent. The manager comes by our table often, but not intrusively. The staff is friendly and attentive. And the food, especially the house burgers, are top of my list for best burgers in the city.  Pig Bleecker even makes its own pickles, and the butter (really, who ever even notices butter) is whipped on the premises and is outstanding.

We ask the waiter for a picture, and though the blinding flash embarrasses Sam, the other diners don't seem to mind. 

My friend M is the one in red on the right ... she prefers her photo cropped.