Have to work or get to work? That’s the question

We were sitting in the living room watching the Thanksgiving game on TV. My potential father-in-law had unsnapped his pants’ top button. And his father, my potential grandfather-in-law, was sitting in the easy chair with his chin firmly resting on his chest, which rose and fell with each breath.

Some people believe it’s the tryptophan in the turkey that makes one drowsy after a Thanksgiving meal. But often it’s the large amount of carbohydrates involved. Nutritionists will tell you that carbs are good for energy — but only up to a point. And 1 pound of stuffing and mashed potatoes is easily that point. After that, the tryptophan is a minor consideration.

I noticed that all the women were gone. And not wanting to be “that guy,” I got up to see if they needed any help. Being a guest is one thing, but being a good guest is quite another. Good guests don’t show up empty-handed; they offer to help before and after and, perhaps most importantly, they know when to leave.

“Where is everybody?” I asked after I realized that no one was in the kitchen.

“Mom has locked herself in the bathroom,” my girlfriend said. “She’s crying and my sister is trying to get her to come out.”

I laughed out loud. It was such a ludicrous cliche that I couldn’t help myself. And that girlfriend had a cuttingly sarcastic sense of humor, so naturally I thought she was joking.

She wasn’t.

I stood around helplessly while they pleaded with her through the door. After a while, it seemed hopeless, so I retreated to the living room.

“Sally’s locked in the bathroom, crying,” I said to my potential future father-in-law.

He seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah,” he said, reclining his seat. “She does that every year.”

And he was right. She did the same thing the next year. And the year after that. It was that third year that my potential sister-in-law asked me, “You seem pretty serious with my sister. Are you going to be able to deal with our mother for the rest of your life?”

I thought to myself that it wouldn’t be the rest of my life; it would be the rest of hers.

“How old is your mom?” I asked.

“Why?” she responded.

“No reason,” I said.

The next year I volunteered to work on Thanksgiving. And I have never regretted that decision. Thanksgiving might be the best of all holidays. It’s universal in the United States, it’s nondenominational and it’s really the beginning of the holiday season. The days that follow all have a more frenetic pace to them, culminating in the most frenetic and forced of all holidays, New Year’s Eve. Whoever thought up a holiday that’s so specific right down to the second should be arrested — or disavowed. Think of any “last call” you’ve ever worked or been present for and amplify that by 10, and you’ll get what I mean. It’s crazy.

My potential mother-in-law gave me two of her prized platinum-rimmed coupe glasses that year. I had commented on them at dinner. They were gorgeous, perfect for bubbly or for cocktails.

“My mother-in-law gave them to me for our wedding,” she said.

I thought it was odd that she had said “me” and not “us.”

There’s an urban myth that if you want to envision what your spouse is going to be like in the future, just look to their parents. I don’t believe that to be true now, but then it was enough for me.

Ironically, I have kept working on Thanksgiving. Part of it has to do with the fact that I have worked in fine-dining American restaurants for 30 years now. And when you make green beans, roasted meat, mashed potatoes and mashed yams most of the time, Thanksgiving dinner is not a stretch. And in a sense, many of my customers over the years have become like family to me. I genuinely like seeing them. And as of yet, not one of them has ever locked themselves in the bathroom — at least not on Thanksgiving.

Last year, I had a dear friend stop by the restaurant for a piece of traditional pumpkin pie after she had a very unsatisfying hipster dinner somewhere else that featured turkey molé and pumpkin flan.

“I’m so glad that you are here,” she said through whipped cream-flecked bites.

And you know what? At that moment, so was I.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• That woman never became my mother-in-law. But I still have those platinum-rimmed coupe glasses.

• Leo Tolstoy once wrote, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” And I think he might have had it backwards.

• Why is saying “You’re just like your father or mother” so triggering? Asking for a friend.

• I’m eternally grateful for all the friends and family who I ‘ve met while bartending. For me, you are what makes it all worthwhile, especially, perhaps, on Thanksgiving.