originally written 12/21/2024
The last week of business was wild in a lot of different ways. So many customers who came through were long time regulars who showed up for that last experience before we closed up shop. At some point, I started just assuming that everyone who showed up was there for that reason.
"Hello," I said to one group, "glad you guys could make it in one last time. What's that one menu item you'll miss the most?"
Only to be met by blank stares. "Can we see a menu? Do you have soup? We've never been here before."
D'oh! Nothing like a little dose of reality to knock me back to earth. Not everyone knows your whole career and life story, self-centered guy. Lesson learned. Another shot of karmic humility administered and received.
At one point, a guy came through, Ron. ordered a bunch of food, and then asked to use a coupon he had gotten through a text message marketing service I tried toward the end as a desperate attempt to try to stoke a bit more business. I kind of assumed he didn't know we were closing up, given the context, but then he made a point of telling me that he wanted to make sure he used the coupon before we closed, so he didn't miss his chance to cash in on it.
It felt pretty tone-deaf to me. Then again, I'm self-centered guy as noted above. And for Ron, this was more about his opportunity to save $5 than it was the end of the 15-year run of my eponymous restaurant. So, sure. Going out on a positive note. Taking the high road. Coupon applied, sir! Thanks for your business.
The best, though, was a guy named Joe.
Joe and his friends came through, each ordering separately. We talked about the restaurant closing, their past visits, how it felt like the end of an era. Joe waited and ordered last. When he was about to order, his face got all scrunched up like he was getting upset. He clearly needed to say something.
"I'm sorry!" he blurted, "I used to come here like twice a week and then Covid hit and now I work from home and I haven't been back here since. I feel like it's all my fault that you guys are closing!"
His friends were silent. They looked at him, then at me, waiting for my response. I looked down at the POS screen, absorbing Joe's confession, trying to figure out what to say. I took a deep breath and allowed a long sigh to come out slowly.
Looking up, keeping my face serious I said "so YOU'RE the one! You destroyed the economy, you and everyone like you! Damn you to hell!"
I was kidding, of course. But also, kind of not. We did, I believe, close due to the whole working-from-home phenomenon that has changed the economic landscape in so many areas that depended on office worker business. I kept expecting people to finally one day come back to the offices and stream off the el and the metra every morning the the way they used to, but it may never happen.
Obviously, it's not Joe's fault. Or the fault of any one person. So, Joe, you're off the hook. I don't blame you. All the customers who now can't get their garlic fries or char burger anymore don't blame you either.
....not entirely, at least.
So of course when I rang up Joe for his double cheeseburger, fries, and Oreo shake I made a big show of it and announced, "that'll be $322,032.43 please!"
.jpg)
Posts
Post a Comment