Jeff Ross

You know, I would ride my moped on the, you know, egg-turning lane of this highway, you know, 12 months a year to go to my family-owned catering hall where these lavish affairs would happen.

So I saw—

You know, human nature, people at their most nervous, brides, grooms, mother of the bride, father of the groom.

Like, you know, you saw people at their most intense.

I would watch the bands from a window in the kitchen.

You know, I would like peek out as a 13, 14, 15-year-old working weekends and summers making fruit cup and salads.

And, you know, I played high school football, but I had red fingernails from the cherries that I put on the fruit cups.

Everyone thought I was wearing nail polish.

And since I was the center, the punt center, they all stared at my hands.

So there were a lot of funny crossovers.

I worked parking cars there.

My grandfather and I ran the parking lot sometimes.

I worked in the hat check, like taking people's coats as a boy.

As a little boy, I rolled meatballs.

I would just sit on a big barrel of salt.

you know, canister, and I would roll meatballs for hours.

Or in my teens, I would feed the workers.

I would make matzo brie for 80 people on a Sunday morning.

You know, the

The servers were all Scottish and Irish.