Our very first blog ladies and gentleman from the talented Patrick.. enjoy!.. “Excuse me…um, what are you?” a lady asks as she tentatively pokes her head through our gate, her brow furrowed. “I’M A BOY, I’M SURE OF IT! That doctor didn’t know what he was talking about!” the voice in my head screams, only before it realises that the lady is talking about TheShed, not me personally. I stop and recognise that it’s not the first time I’ve been asked this question here. We are more than a ‘bar-restaurant that serves great artisan cocktails and delicious small plate food’ which is a rehearsed spiel that I used to regurgitate. In this blog series, I’m going to try to encapsulate what we, TeamShed, are trying to deliver and who/what we are. That’s if I can ever manage to explain it to myself. Working at TheShed, I am prompted daily to paraphrase a Woody Allen joke that he tells in Annie Hall: ‘This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, ‘Doctor, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.’ And the doctor says, ‘Well, have you tried telling him he’s not a chicken?’ The guy says, ‘I would, but we need the eggs…’’ Tina Fey analyses this witticism in her memoir Bossypants and believes that it holds a kernel of truth about team work and management: sometimes to get the best out of people, you must indulge their crazy. To protect the guilty, I initially decided to change Henry’s name to Todd in the following example. Henry thought Todd was a little feminine so we had an argument and I decided to use his real name. Henry is the proprieter/leader/gofer/boss/miscreant of TheShed. Conversing with Henry in full whirling dervish gofer-mode can be like trying to get sense out of a Furby. ‘Why?’ you implore him, as an all-new, never-before-solicited idea blooms from the recesses of his mind. ‘How do you feel about cocktail glasses made of ice?’; ‘Why don’t we serve food in birdcages?’; ‘LET’S BUILD A DANCEFLOOR ON THE CEILING!’He’ll offer, as you attempt to polish a wooden spoon, as-per-his latest request. As someone who is useless at both manual labour and saying no to people, my response to Henry’s suggestions invariably go like this: ‘Um…yes…I, uh…think…in the future…that is an option…which could have developmental potential…if we…uh…oh, is that a guest? SORRY, WHOSE PHONE IS RINGING?! BYE!” I then proceed to read a self-help book called something like, ‘Pat On The Back: A Guide to Self-Confidence for Irish People”. AND YET, if #TeamShed weren’t willing to exhaust ourselves daily, carrying out whims such as building desks out of over-turned fruit baskets, we wouldn’t have some of our best features which have gone into making TheShed experience so unique. Everything from our tea egg-timers to our serving platters all started as thoroughly risible ideas that we guffawed at and promptly forgot, only to be confronted with a prototype twenty minutes later. What I’m trying to say is, sometimes to get the best experience that we love giving you, our beloved guests, you’ve got to go with us on this one. Listen, we know we’re different. If all of Beverley were a classroom, TheShed would be the artistic girl at the back who wears a feather-snood on non-uniform day and draws pictures of horses throughout citizenship lessons. A cursory glance at our menu might even suggest that we induce a bit of faff into everything. After all, you can’t make an omelette with a Fabergé egg. However, all we ask of you, our beloved, blessed, darling, precious guests, is that you go with us on this one. If you allow us to unleash our inner Henrys and get a bit creative, we promise that we’ll deliver you the best, most Shed-ian experience that you’ve ever had. We promise this: you will get your eggs.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 21:07:33 +0000
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