FROM THE FOUNDER

How I Got Here The story behind Venue Matchmaker

I didn't fall in love with hospitality because of beautiful venues, perfectly set tables, or elaborate events. I fell in love with the way this industry makes people feel.

I started working in hospitality more than two decades ago at a steak house . I was young and had absolutely no idea that the job I had taken would become the beginning of a career that would shape so much of my life. I started as a host, then became a host manager. I learned expo, I ran food, and eventually, I became a server.

There was something about the movement of a restaurant that made sense to me the controlled chaos, the teamwork, remembering the little things. I loved watching a room fill up and knowing that every person walking through the door was trusting us with some small piece of their day.

Texas Roadhouse also gave me something I didn't fully appreciate until much later: training. There was consistency in the way we were taught. There were expectations. There were systems. Everyone learned how things were supposed to be done and why they mattered. Years later, when I found myself training employees and leading teams of my own, I realized just how much of my management style started there.

But Texas Roadhouse also gave me my first really painful lesson in hospitality. I was 18 when I made a mistake. I had a table that I completely forgot about. They complained, and I lost my job.

At 18 years old, that felt devastating. I thought I was a great employee. I worked hard. I had moved into different positions. I cared about my job. I couldn't understand how all of that could seemingly disappear because of one mistake. It was a shock to my system.

But with more than twenty years between that girl and the woman writing this now, I understand that moment very differently. Hospitality taught me early that our intentions don't determine someone's experience. I didn't intend to forget those guests, but they still felt forgotten. That's a lesson I've carried with me through every restaurant, every event, every client and every team I've led since.

Sometimes the hardest moments in your career end up teaching you the things you remember longest. I couldn't have known it at 18, but that wouldn't be the last time the end of a chapter would force me to think about what was supposed to come next.

Learning Where I Belonged

After Texas Roadhouse, I spent a short time working at a sports bar. I wasn't there long before realizing it wasn't the right place for me. At the time, it probably just felt like another job that didn't work out. Looking back, I think there's value in learning that too. Not every opportunity is supposed to become a chapter that lasts ten years. Sometimes its entire purpose is showing you what you don't want so you're a little closer to discovering what you do.

And I was about to find a place that would teach me much more about that.

Flounders

Then came Flounder's. I started as a cocktail server, working nights that sometimes stretched until four or five in the morning. It was exhausting. It was chaotic.

This is where I really started learning the art of selling. I learned how to read people. I learned how to make recommendations without making someone feel like they were being sold to. I learned how to listen for what someone actually wanted. I learned that people buy from people they like and trust. And I learned that great sales isn't really about selling something at all. It's about understanding the person sitting in front of you.

I also learned how to become a bit of a chameleon not in the sense of pretending to be someone I wasn't, but in learning how to find common ground with almost anyone. Everyone has something: a hometown, a football team, a family story, a place they've traveled, a favorite food, something they're celebrating, or something they're excited to tell you about.

I learned to listen until I found it. Once I did, the interaction stopped feeling like a transaction. It became a relationship.

That ability to connect with people followed me long after I stopped cocktail serving. I took it with me into every restaurant, every leadership position, every event and every sales conversation that came after. To this day, building relationships with the people I meet is one of my favorite parts of hospitality.

Eventually, I moved from cocktail serving into serving tables during the day, and I found another side of hospitality that I loved. I built relationships. I had regulars. I remembered people, and people remembered me.

When I had my oldest daughter, I stepped away for a little while, but I never completely left. I would pick up shifts when I was needed. I stayed connected. I maintained relationships. Hospitality had become part of who I was.

Hands In. Hands Out.

I also spent a period working at Peg Leg Pete's, or Peg's as so many of us call it. And if you've ever worked somewhere with a culture of hands in, hands out, you understand exactly what that means.

You don't walk past something because it isn't technically your job. If food needs to go out, you take it. If something needs to come back, you bring it. If someone needs help, you help them. There is no “that's not my table.” There is no standing around while someone else is drowning. You work, and you work together.

That mentality became another piece of the hospitality philosophy I would eventually carry into leadership. A title doesn't make you too important to clear a plate. A manager isn't above running food. The best teams I've ever been part of are the ones where everyone understands that the guest doesn't care whose job something technically was. They just remember whether they were taken care of.

Last Chapter

Nearly ten years ago, I walked into another restaurant without knowing just how much of my story would eventually be written there:

Over those years, I've worn more hats than I could probably list. I've served tables. I've been an AGM. I've been the General Manager of a sister restaurant. I've stepped in when there wasn't a GM. I've managed people, solved problems, dealt with the unexpected and experienced just about every version of restaurant chaos imaginable.

But this place became much more than a place I worked. My children grew up within these walls. They grew up knowing this place, knowing the people here and watching their mom build a career here. When I look back over the last ten years, I don't just see shifts, events, promotions or job titles. I see pieces of my family's life.

Somewhere along the way, the people I worked beside became another kind of family. I've worked with people who taught me things I will carry with me forever, and I've had the privilege of teaching others some of the things I've learned along the way. We've watched each other grow. We've celebrated milestones. We've struggled through difficult seasons. We've laughed together, probably argued a few times, solved problems together and come back the next day to do it all over again.

There are people here I communicate with every single day, people who have become part of my life outside of whatever title was written next to my name. Those relationships are one of the greatest things this chapter has given me.

And somewhere during those years, something else started happening: events.

I started taking events because I saw an opportunity to bring more business into the restaurant. One event became another. One client became another. Those clients remembered me. They referred people. Relationships grew. Slowly, without realizing it at first, I wasn't just working events anymore. I was building an events business inside the business.

Over the years, I built a client list and relationships with people throughout the area. I learned what clients asked before booking. I learned what made them nervous. I learned what made them say yes. I learned what venues struggle with behind the scenes. I learned what vendors need. And I learned what clients don't know to ask.

The Venue

This one was different for me.

I had dreamed about seeing it become an event venue, so when it finally happened, I was genuinely excited about what that space could become. I could see the parties, the dinners, the celebrations, the weddings and the corporate events. I could see people gathering there before some of those events had ever happened. And I got the opportunity to help build it.

Eventually, I became Director of Sales responsible for working incoming leads, booking events and helping clients take an idea in their head and turn it into something that could actually happen in the space.

It was a role that brought together so many of the things I had learned over the years: the training, the sales, the operations, the relationships, the leadership, the ability to read people and the ability to walk into a room and see what it could become.

The growth that came from that chapter of my career is almost impossible to put into words. By then, I wasn't only learning how to serve people. I was learning how to sell, how to lead, how to build relationships, how to create systems, how to understand a client's vision and how to look at a space and see possibilities they couldn't see yet.

Most importantly, I learned that hospitality isn't really about food, restaurants, venues or events. It's about people.

It's the guest I forgot at 18 years old. It's the regular whose order you already know. It's the coworker whose hands are full, so you grab the other plates. It's the employee you watched grow into a leader. It's the client who walks into a completely empty event space and needs someone to help them imagine what it could become.

It's making someone feel seen, making them feel welcome and making them feel like somebody is paying attention.

More than twenty years after walking into my first restaurant, that's still the part I love.

The Person on the Other Side of the Table

For years, I represented restaurants and venues. I learned their spaces, operations, possibilities, and limitations but I always felt most connected to the person trying to choose between them.

The guest asking: Where should I have this? Is it within my budget? Who can I trust? Where do I start?

My career taught me how to listen beyond those questions and understand what someone is truly looking for.

When You Know It’s Time

After nearly ten years, I’m closing my chapter here .

There isn’t one dramatic reason. I simply know it’s time.

Leaving is emotional because so much of my life happened here. My children grew up here, and in many ways, so did I. I became a leader, discovered my love for events, and built relationships I’ll carry far beyond my final shift.

Every role I’ve held has prepared me for what comes next from the host who learned that one forgotten guest matters to the Director of Sales who learned how to turn a client’s ideas into something real.

Now, I want to use that experience differently.

I want to know the venues, vendors, questions, and people to call then sit beside someone as they describe their vision and say:

“I know exactly where we should start.”

That’s where Venue Matchmaker begins.