I'm sure you have one.
That restaurant you drive by that always seems to have an empty parking lot regardless of the day or time.
And yet it stays in business year after year, and you wonder to yourself--
How?
How can a place that is seemingly never busy continue to operate?
I've always wondered about places like that.
You know, like lighting fixture stores.
There is, believe it or not, a lighting fixture store near my house, and I always wonder, how, in a bad economy, does a store that sells only lighting fixtures stay in business?
How many lamps can any one person need?
Does the store survive when some heiress pops in every year to replace all her chandeliers?
That seems more plausible than that a restaurant could get by when on a Saturday night--what should be the busiest night for a restaurant--they're as dead as ever.
Finally, I decided to figure out what was going on.
I decided to go to the restaurant nobody goes to.
From the minute I walked in the door, I was taken by surprise.
I kind of expected everybody to jump up and roll out a red carpet.
The scene in my head was a cross between the Dolly's big entrance in "Hello Dolly!" and "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast.
"He's here, everyone! A real live customer!"
Cue music and dancing forks.
Instead, the hostess leaning against a wall texting looked--irked.
"Oh," she said, "Are you here to, like, eat?"
I told her I was, and I tried not to feel bad about the lack of fanfare.
After all, she was just the hostess. Surely the waiter or waitress I got would be thrilled that they would actually be getting a tip tonight.
Once I was seated at my table, however, I found myself waiting for about five minutes before anybody showed up to say hello.
In the back, I swore I could hear yelling and arguing.
Finally, a middle-aged woman looking like she'd just been pulled away from a really good episode of "Two and a Half Men."
She--I'll call her Finola, since she didn't have a name tag--said hello, and then asked if I was ready to order.
Apparently she didn't notice that I didn't have a menu in front of me.
When I informed her of this, she let out an irritated sigh, and then went to retrieve me some.
A minute later, she was back to see if I had decided on what I wanted. I hadn't even browsed the appetizers yet.
I wanted to assure her--"Relax, it's fine. I plan on ordering something substantial and then tipping you well, my poor Finola. You won't go home empty-handed tonight!"
But when I ordered a salad, entree, and hinted at a dessert, she looked even more annoyed.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that my presence there was thoroughly upsetting everyone involved.
To prove my point, the hostess, another waitress, and a guy I imagined to be a dishwasher all stood around the front of the restaurant and grimaced at me while conversing.
In my head, I imagined that they were thinking of different ways to chop me up and use me in the Greek salad.
None of this made any sense to me, until I started thinking of all the real things this restaurant could be.
Had I stumbled onto a front for the mob? A front for a drug cartel? A front for a bunch of drag queens running a restaurant so their significant others never realize their true occupations?
...Okay, maybe not the last one.
Then I had a friend explain it all to me.
You see, my friend Amanda worked at a restaurant just like this one when she was in college.
She told me that it was frustrating because the place was rarely busy, but then every once in awhile a few people would come in, and it would be really aggravating.
"But why? Wouldn't you be glad for the business?"
"No, because you get so used to not having to work. If I worked at a place that was always busy, I wouldn't mind. But only being every so often means occasionally you have to overcome your laziness and you're STILL not making much money."
"Then how does the place stay in business?"
"Honestly, I have no idea."
"Does it still exist?"
"Yeah, I just drove by it yesterday."
The mystery continues.
That restaurant you drive by that always seems to have an empty parking lot regardless of the day or time.
And yet it stays in business year after year, and you wonder to yourself--
How?
How can a place that is seemingly never busy continue to operate?
I've always wondered about places like that.
You know, like lighting fixture stores.
There is, believe it or not, a lighting fixture store near my house, and I always wonder, how, in a bad economy, does a store that sells only lighting fixtures stay in business?
How many lamps can any one person need?
Does the store survive when some heiress pops in every year to replace all her chandeliers?
That seems more plausible than that a restaurant could get by when on a Saturday night--what should be the busiest night for a restaurant--they're as dead as ever.
Finally, I decided to figure out what was going on.
I decided to go to the restaurant nobody goes to.
From the minute I walked in the door, I was taken by surprise.
I kind of expected everybody to jump up and roll out a red carpet.
The scene in my head was a cross between the Dolly's big entrance in "Hello Dolly!" and "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast.
"He's here, everyone! A real live customer!"
Cue music and dancing forks.
Instead, the hostess leaning against a wall texting looked--irked.
"Oh," she said, "Are you here to, like, eat?"
I told her I was, and I tried not to feel bad about the lack of fanfare.
After all, she was just the hostess. Surely the waiter or waitress I got would be thrilled that they would actually be getting a tip tonight.
Once I was seated at my table, however, I found myself waiting for about five minutes before anybody showed up to say hello.
In the back, I swore I could hear yelling and arguing.
Finally, a middle-aged woman looking like she'd just been pulled away from a really good episode of "Two and a Half Men."
She--I'll call her Finola, since she didn't have a name tag--said hello, and then asked if I was ready to order.
Apparently she didn't notice that I didn't have a menu in front of me.
When I informed her of this, she let out an irritated sigh, and then went to retrieve me some.
A minute later, she was back to see if I had decided on what I wanted. I hadn't even browsed the appetizers yet.
I wanted to assure her--"Relax, it's fine. I plan on ordering something substantial and then tipping you well, my poor Finola. You won't go home empty-handed tonight!"
But when I ordered a salad, entree, and hinted at a dessert, she looked even more annoyed.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that my presence there was thoroughly upsetting everyone involved.
To prove my point, the hostess, another waitress, and a guy I imagined to be a dishwasher all stood around the front of the restaurant and grimaced at me while conversing.
In my head, I imagined that they were thinking of different ways to chop me up and use me in the Greek salad.
None of this made any sense to me, until I started thinking of all the real things this restaurant could be.
Had I stumbled onto a front for the mob? A front for a drug cartel? A front for a bunch of drag queens running a restaurant so their significant others never realize their true occupations?
...Okay, maybe not the last one.
Then I had a friend explain it all to me.
You see, my friend Amanda worked at a restaurant just like this one when she was in college.
She told me that it was frustrating because the place was rarely busy, but then every once in awhile a few people would come in, and it would be really aggravating.
"But why? Wouldn't you be glad for the business?"
"No, because you get so used to not having to work. If I worked at a place that was always busy, I wouldn't mind. But only being every so often means occasionally you have to overcome your laziness and you're STILL not making much money."
"Then how does the place stay in business?"
"Honestly, I have no idea."
"Does it still exist?"
"Yeah, I just drove by it yesterday."
The mystery continues.
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