Crazy/Dutiful

Spago is a large, complex operation with a staff of 200 and a demanding clientele. The phones are a constant problem — seven lines, all ringing incessantly; surely there are difficult personalities and egos, feuds, impossible requests, myriad annoyances, irritants, if not daily incitements to homicide. But when asked what the toughest part of his job is, Romoglia has to think. His brow creases and twitches, he blinks: You can see his discretion at work as it filters through possibilities for the least controversial answer.

"The toughest part — the part of my job that hurts me the most," Romoglia says carefully, "is when I have to send a waiter home because we don’t need everybody . . . or when I have to tell guests that they have to wait a few more minutes for their food. It doesn’t happen very often, but . . ."

Okay, never mind. Next question. What’s the most fun part of his job? No hesitation here. "When the room is full and everything’s running like a Swiss watch, people are laughing and memories are being made, and I know I’ve hit the mark."

He should have been a diplomat. Although he wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun.

"No," he says firmly. "Not nearly."

Like the other day, when he was running through the restaurant, headed full tilt toward Tracy Spillane. "Help me, help me!" Romoglia called in a stage whisper. "There’s a crazy person after me." His pursuer was only one of Spago’s most valued, long-term customers. What was he doing that was so crazy? Trying to slip Johnny a tip.