What began as a way for Aaron Calafato to pass the time outside a crowded restaurant turned into an unexpected lesson in humanity. In this episode, he reflects on the act of opening doors, the complexities of human interaction, and what it truly means to connect with others.
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Unlock the power of storytelling in just one hour with Aaron Calafato. Gain actionable insights and tools to transform how you connect and communicate—in work, life, and beyond.
Story created & performed by: Aaron Calafato
Senior Audio Engineer: Ken Wendt
Additional vocals: Cori Birce
Art: Pete Whitehead
Original Music: thomas j. duke
Listen Free: | Apple Podcasts | Pandora | Spotify |
Story created & performed by: Aaron Calafato
Senior Audio Engineer: Ken Wendt
Additional vocals: Cori Birce
Art: Pete Whitehead
Original Music: thomas j. duke
TRANSCRIPT
Aaron Calafato:
I'm thinking about becoming a professional doorman. I'll probably still do this podcast, but the side hustle of being a doorman might be just around the corner. And I'm going to tell you why—right after the music.
So, this whole thing starts because we've been going out to eat a lot. I love going out to eat. Don't get me wrong—I love a home-cooked meal. I really do. I've been blessed; both sides of my family are great cooks, offering two very different culinary experiences. If I had to pick, at the end of all time, whether I’d want to go out or have a home-cooked meal with my family and the people I love, I’m going with the home-cooked meal every time.
But if you have the luxury to go out once in a while, do it. Why? Because you get to experience something different—different culinary styles. You can socialize, and you don’t have to do the dishes. Someone else is doing the work for you. I don’t have to sell you on going out to eat. You know why you do it.
Here’s another thing: there are certain tastes that, once you try them, you just can’t recreate. For example, I have a copycat recipe for Wendy’s chili. No, you don’t. It’s close; you might get even 90% there, but you’re not fully there. I have a copycat recipe for McDonald’s fries. No, you don’t. You think you do. You say, “Oh, they taste just like them.” But no, they don’t. You might get close, but there are just certain things you can’t recreate—from the top of the food chain, five-star dining, all the way down to a fast-food joint.
So now you know why we go out to eat. And here’s the thing: whether it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner, we’re going when other people are going. Unless it’s a fast-food restaurant, you’re usually waiting. Even if you make a reservation, depending on the volume, you’ve got to wait at the bar or get a drink.
Now, if it’s really busy—this happens a lot at chain restaurants—and you don’t check in on the app or call ahead, you’re rolling the dice. And a lot of people still roll the dice. People show up on a Friday or Saturday night at 7 p.m., drive around looking for parking, circle the lot, and then walk to the hostess stand. “How long is the wait?” “Six hours.” Are you kidding me? Do you see what’s going on around you? Do you see the situation?
So, you’ve got to either be proactive or accept that you’re going to be along for the ride. And when it’s really crowded, especially in the winter, I’m faced with a choice: stand outside or stand inside. I’m picking outside every time because I love the cold. Cori, on the other hand, does not love the cold. So sometimes she stays inside, even if it’s just in the vestibule, while I wait outside.
And as this happens over and over again during busy times, I find myself holding the door open for people—just out of habit, out of courtesy. The first few times, I’m just holding it open, and people say, “Thank you.” I say, “Hello.” Little gestures, nothing crazy. But the more I do it, the more I realize this is an opportunity to interact with my fellow human beings. If I’m going to be out here for 15 minutes anyway, I might as well make the most of it.
So, I start upping my game. “Hey, welcome to the steak place! How are you?” “Good morning! Welcome to First Watch!” What happens next is wonderful. Even if people see how busy it is inside, they come in with hope. Everyone enters a restaurant hoping to be fed soon and to have a great meal.
And in a world where we all have bills, challenges, and bad days at work, I’m standing there, holding the door, smiling, and saying, “Welcome. You’re welcome here.” That makes people come alive. Even the biggest Scrooge, I’ve gotten a smile out of them. I love that moment—the moment where we break the monotony of our everyday lives. People are coming and going, and I’m saying, “Hey, I see you.” And they’re looking at me like, “Hey, thanks.”
Now, this is completely different from what I experienced when I was a waiter. I waited tables for years, and it was always an easy job to get because restaurants always need servers. Plus, you got cash in your pocket. But man, I sucked at being a waiter. If I had one table—a VIP table—I’d be the greatest waiter of all time. I’m great at giving my attention to one person, just like I’m talking to you now. But add multiple tables and people? I’m stressed out of my mind.
When people are sitting at their tables, something is always going to go wrong. The food’s not what they thought it would be. Maybe I got their order wrong. Or maybe the cook took too long. And then there’s the physical frustration of being hungry, which makes people cranky. Sometimes, they realize they shouldn’t have gone out because they don’t have enough money, so they’re stingy and leave a bad tip. I’ve been stiffed on tips because I forgot a chocolate milk.
So, I’ve seen both sides of humanity—people walking into the restaurant full of hope, and people sitting at their tables, frustrated and disappointed. The question is: which one of these reflects who we really are?
And the second question is: who do we choose to see, even when both parts of us emerge?
That’s a tough one. I’m still working on it. I’ll let you know how it goes—especially if you see me at a random restaurant, holding the door as your friendly doorman.
