I am newly positioned as a hostess at the swank midtown destination, BLT Steak, a member of the ever-popular Bistro Laurent Tourondel restaurant series. I walked in on a whim, because my friend thought it might be a good dinner place to encounter eligible bachelors. Apparently, women in Manhattan can become so desperate to procure a profitable nuptial arrangement that there is a website for just that: http://newyork.citysearch.com/bestof/winners/golddiggers_goldmine. So if you’re an ambitious Russian girl with a Swarovski-encrusted cell phone, I suppose that would be a helpful resource.

I just figured it would be good people-watching. On my first night I escorted the former 60 Minutes broadcaster, ninety-year-old Andy Rooney, to his table. I also received a generous fifty-dollar tip from a restaurant “VIP” and regular, who is lovingly referred to in the computer’s reservation notes as “Mr. Potato” (he is the president of one of the country’s largest potato corporations).

Working in a restaurant is similar to being an actor. It reminds me of that quote from When Harry Met Sally: “Restaurants are to people in the 80’s what theatres were to people in the 60’s.”

It’s all theatrics, from the giant gruyère-coated popovers, to the ebony tables, to the tall Yale girl behind the hostess stand.

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