One of the hard facts of life is that your well considered plans can be undone by something disturbingly simple. It’s the unanticipated consequences of life that affect change in ways unknown. For example, the recent leak of “Classified” documents about the war in Afghanistan appear to be because of the actions of some faceless Private (First Class). Well, a used-to-be-faceless Pfc.
I use the term “Classified” loosely because a lot of institutions are prone to slapping the term classified on everything, right down to the luncheon menu in the executive dining room. Of course, a lot of stuff that is considered to be classified, secret, secure, eyes-only and such is just embarrassing and nothing more.
The Afghanistan leak is yet another example of how some low level employee can wreak mayhem on very expensive plans. Consider a recent experience at a local restaurant.
My friend Bill and I have been eating lunch together for decades. We’re famous, in our own little way, and more than a few restaurants know us and like us for a number of reasons. We do leave tips, not extravagant ones, but we do recognize the great value of service. We’re frequent fliers, which is to say that once we find a restaurant that we like, we come there frequently. We talk; which is to say, we tell others of good restaurants. And, we’re a quick table turn. We get in, order promptly, eat promptly without being in a hurry, pay our tab and get out. This frees up a table for other diners, which restaurant owners and servers like a great deal.
Over the years, there have been a lot of good lunches, some very good lunches, a few great ones and a few bad ones. The normal bell-shaped curve and all that. We both get misty eyed at the mention of the late, great restaurant on West Peachtree called A Taste of New Orleans. Don’t get me started, it’s too early in the day to be crying. Suffice it to say, we loved Taste and they loved us. Right up to that suspicious fire one evening, and then they went away. Other restaurants have since filled the gap, but we always speak with reverence about A Taste of New Orleans. Of course, it was the one-year sitcom called “Frank’s Place” about a restaurant in New Orleans that gave me one of my favorite sayings: “A restaurant is a fragile thing.”
Consider a recent experience that Bill and I had at a local eatery that had previously been the site of a restaurant chain outlet. The food at that restaurant had been good, and it was one of those places where you ordered and paid up front, found a table and the food found you. We ate there regularly until one day when it appeared that there had been some sort of plumbing accident. Whatever clean up that had been done was performed with a sour mop, and the place stank. When we came back a week later, the place still had that same smell, and it was time for us to move on. Of course, the restaurant was circling the drain, and eventually the place closed and the space stayed vacant for a while.
However, hope springs eternal and a new restaurant opened in this same space. It was promising since this was the second restaurant for a local owner. It was Italian, which Bill & I both like. It was convenient to work, which is nice. And the menu looked interesting. The place held promise. So, we stopped by for lunch on a Friday in early July.
We pulled up to the door. Being the early-bird types, it was 11:20 AM, a time when most restaurants are easing into operation, if not at full swing. The doors were unlocked, the lights were on, the music was playing and the wait staff were bustling about. Say what you will, I call that OPEN. We were intercepted at the front of the restaurant by a cute young thing, who told us that the restaurant was not open until 11:30, ten minutes away.
Of course, this being Atlanta, we simply thanked her, turned around and drove down the street to another restaurant that was willing to seat us. This was a startling thing though, since it would have been such a simple matter to seat us at a table, throw a couple menus at us and then go into the back room for one last ciggie before the place officially opened up. Given the fact that I move my lips when I read, it would have taken us at least ten minutes to read the menu.
So, here you have someone’s substantial financial investment, with hours of time devoted to creating a wonderful restaurant where people will come and have a good meal and good company. Done in by a low level minion that did not know that her job was to be hospitable. Will we go back? Who knows? Is the food good? We don’t know. This is a hot restaurant town, with a lot of very nice places. Will they survive? Maybe. Maybe not.
A restaurant may be a fragile thing, but this is a first. An Italian restaurant run with Germanic efficiency.
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