Tickets were sold out.It was an evening to remember at AGL—though remembered differently by everyone who was in attendance.
For management, the logistics alone were a feat. One hundred and forty people were expected, and parking was quickly identified as a potential crisis. The lawn, aglow with soft lighting, had been transformed into the main event space, with cocktail service tables, garden lanterns, and adequate space for servers to move gracefully among guests. But where would their vehicles park?
External support came from the Police Service, who provided direction and security for vehicle flow. Their presence was discreet but essential, allowing the evening to unfold without congestion or confusion. By the close of the function, they were quietly thanked with packed food items and an envelope each—a gesture of gratitude that didn’t go unnoticed.
Guests laughed and chatted in small groups, their faces lit by the soft glow of lanterns strung between trees. All personnel—alongside an equal number of casuals—had undergone a three-day training in serving etiquette, cocktail names like Margarita, Martini, Bourbon Old Fashioned, Tequila Sunrise, Gin and Tonic, Irish Coffee, and Whiskey Sour, along with their ingredients. They had also practiced the art of balancing trays with poise.
That evening, everyone of the staff looked sharp in their newly sewn wine-and-white uniforms—a palette chosen to reflect elegance and warmth. The fabric shimmered under the lights, and for many, it was the first time they felt truly part of something grand.
Thanks to Mr. Aanani’s connections, the best of Ghana’s old highlife bands had been secured. Their lively rhythms—familiar and joyful—wafted through the crowd, enticing guests to sway to the beat. Laughter bubbled up in pockets. Executives danced without prompting. The night shimmered with ease.
Just as Mr. Aanani and Yawa-Attah were receiving quiet accolades near the entrance, a sound rose above the music—a sharp, clattering crash that silenced the laughter for a beat.
It was Daniel, the kitchen porter.
He had been robed in a professional waiter’s uniform for the evening, and he was eager to play the role, but feeling nervous under the gaze of so many dignitaries. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up his assigned tray to balance it. As he took a step, his eyes darted anxiously around the crowd, his mind racing.
Daniel was determined to prove himself. As he walked steadily through the crowd, offering his tray of finger foods—kelewele bites, stuffed mushrooms, and mini quiches—swallowing hard, the food’s aroma, teasing his senses.
Just then, he lost his balance and collided with a casual staff member carrying drinks. The crash was spectacular—glass, cocktail crockery, finger foods, and startled gasps.
For a moment, everything paused.
Yawa-Attah’s eyes widened in alarm. This scenario had never come up in their training.
Then someone chuckled. Then another. And before long, the band picked up again, the crowd relaxed, and the incident became part of the evening’s charm.
Daniel stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. “Oh no, I’ve ruined everything! He thought to himself, what will they think of me?“
A supervisor rushed to his side, while two other personnel sprang into action, working together to clean up the mess and restore order.
-“We’ve worked too hard to let one mishap ruin the evening. Let’s get this sorted! They said among themselves. Despite the chaos, they remained focused on providing excellent service, ensuring the guests had a wonderful time.
Later, as the team debriefed, Yawa-Attah noted in her reflections: The staff rallied together, their uniforms now speckled with spills and splatters, as they worked tirelessly to restore the lawn to its former glory. By the early hours of the morning, their hard work paid off. A bus was arranged to drop them home—a quiet thank-you for their stamina and spirit.
As for the band, they departed with more than applause. Several guests requested their contact details, hoping to book them for future events. Their melodies had done more than entertain—they had lingered.
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by the operational experiences and sectoral engagements of Hospitality Associates and its collaborators. While the narrative draws upon real industry contexts, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events is purely coincidental. Characters, locations, and scenarios have been fictionalized or amalgamated to serve educational and storytelling purposes. The intent is not to critique individuals or institutions, but to distill operational insight through dramatic narrative.