Does our christmas cheer make commercial sense?

"Sixty quid!" exploded the male voice on the other end of the phone. "So what do you get for sixty quid then, apart from Sylvia?"

"Well, actually," I replied, trying to force a smile into my voice, "you don't even get Sylvia. She doesn't play on Christmas Day. The piano takes up valuable seating space. But lunch is a six-course meal and the price does include a Champagne reception on arrival."

I could tell by the cursory "Thank you, I'll have to think about it," as he put the phone down that it was highly unlikely this particular gentleman would be joining us on 25 December. Obviously this was a customer used to ordering his turkey lunch off the blackboard for a bargain £5.50 during the rest of the year.

We will fill anyway.

Peace of mind

But what price can you put on not having to worry about how long to leave the turkey roasting?

It's enquiries like that at this time of year, as we hurtle toward the winter solstice, which make us wonder why on earth we haven't grasped the nettle and decide to stay shut for the Christmas period.

And, even before October is out, 16-year-old wash-up lads have started to press the head chef for triple pay before they'll even consider agreeing to work on Christmas Day. "Tesco pays if you work Sundays and bank holidays," they say, to support their argument.

When that happens you know you might as well jack it in and shut up shop, just as the rest of the nation will.

Another 16-year-old - a trainee chef who had been with us since only mid-August - was not quite sure which side of the fence was greener.

He started working for us with great enthusiasm and interest. He was polite, punctual and quick in his work: an ideal young employee.

I managed to get him into Southampton City College on day-release. Each week he would tell us how much he was enjoying his college day and what he was learning. He was a really pleasant young guy.

Then, out of the blue, he decided the job was too much and he gave notice.

Our head chef persuaded him to give it a little longer before deciding, and he agreed.

He tried another couple of weeks before giving notice once again.

This time I sat with him for half an hour as he told me why he wasn't happy: he had to leave home at 7.50am to get in for 9am, as he couldn't afford local accommodation; he didn't like split shifts; he didn't like working evenings when his mates were enjoying themselves; he didn't like the pressure of the work (another chef had been on holiday that week, so he had worked 50 hours, and been paid for them).

When questioned further he said he rather fancied working out front in the restaurant, being in contact with customers.

These were all quite understandable concerns from a youngster, but I tried to get him to see that most of his comments were very short-term.

I assured him that a new third chef was to start the following week. Another fourth chef was engaged to start work the week after that.

Then I offered him accommodation in the house adjacent to the restaurant on a temporary basis, for which he could pay a nominal charge.

I told him that we thought he had an initial flair for kitchen work that was worth developing. I asked him to reconsider. Unfortunately, he could not be persuaded to stay and left during the following week.

As a relatively small player in this enormous industry of ours, I wonder how often that scenario is played out in bigger establishments when the youngster in question doesn't even have the benefit of a chat with whoever was responsible for engaging them in the first place.

I believe we did what we could for someone who perhaps hasn't yet decided what he wants to do for a job.

Lights and camera

A rather dull Tuesday evening service was enlivened recently by a film crew descending on the restaurant to record Danny La Rue, who lives in Southampton. He was being profiled by Channel 5 for a programme to be broadcast in December.

We took the opportunity of inviting various staff and partners who weren't working to make up a table. We continued to provide as regular a service as we could to other customers, negotiating lights and cameras.

Danny was filmed having dinner and singing a couple of songs accompanied by Sylvia at the piano. We made sure the crew were fed a decent supper before Danny arrived and the director assured us that shots of him arriving had included the name of the restaurant.

As it happened, on the same evening the film crew were here, our turkey-farmer supplier was in having supper.

He made my evening by telling me his turkey prices would actually be coming down for Christmas, which sounds pretty unusual.

I don't think that's going to force us to lower the price of our Christmas Day lunch, though.

Next diary from Graham Webb will be on 4 December