Yesterday had a couple of curious events, especially curious to happen in the same day, both involving dining.
For lunch, a bunch of coworkers and I (plus one who got left behind) had lunch at a middle-eastern grocery/restaurant. Hardly really a restaurant, more like a deli with some booths and tables. For myself, I grabbed some tabbouleh and some pita bread and a drink, paid for it and sat at a booth. Everyone else all had their food from the kitchen. I wondered how everyone paid for their food already. They didn’t. And no one seemed to understand how payment was going to work.
So each of them just went up to the kitchen window, asked for food and got it and was now seated and eating it, whereas I went to the shelves and coolers, got food, paid for it, and was now eating it. No one else had any order slips, checks, or anything else to indicate what they got. The point I am laboriously making it that this restaurant operated on the honor system. Does such a thing exist anymore? Well, it worked out well for everyone, because I do have standards for my cohorts and honesty is one of them.
But, if that story is somewhat interesting, maybe mildly interesting, this one is better.
After work, I decide to stop at my local Blimpie for dinner. You know Blimpie, there’s what, maybe a dozen of them around? I can’t seem to find one anywhere, but I do love their bread. It’s so fluffy. Anyway, that’s not what’s interesting. See, the guy who runs my Blimpie, runs/owns, I mean. Foreign as well, maybe Indian, maybe Pakistani. That’s all completely irrelevant. He’s a damn hard worker. He owns the place and is the only employee. He works open to close seven days a week. His wife owns/runs the dry cleaning location in the same plaza.
Now, I feel sorry for this guy, not only because he’s always there, but also because there’s never anyone else there. Maybe I’ll see another customer when I’m there, most often I won’t. But he always recognizes me and always forgets what cheese I want on my sandwich, so hey, I guess we’re friends.
Tonight, I get my food and as usual I’m the only one eating it there. The guy comes over to me and says, “Can you do me a favor?” He puts this paper down beside me. “I’m going to go over next door. If someone comes in, have them call this number on here and I’ll come right back.”
Yes, you probably understood that just as I did. I’m in charge of the store while he goes out. That’s quite a promotion for someone who’s not even an employee. So, since we’re friends, I say, “sure,” and off he goes, carrying a box from Amazon.
He had said he was going to be gone for just a minute, but I think it was something more like five minutes. And wouldn’t you know it, here comes a customer. As soon as the customer gets in the door, I hold up the piece of paper and say. “Well, you are the first person to come in and I have been told that he wants you to call this number and he will be right back.”
The customer is like, “Where’s he at?” And I say, “I assume he went to the dry cleaners. I think his wife runs it.” He’s just “Geez,” but he gets his phone out and calls the number on the paper I’m holding up.
“Hey.” “Yeah.” “Ok.” And the guy hangs up. Then he’s just walking around the lobby. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to make sure that anyone walking in doesn’t steal anything or not, so I ignore him for a bit, then try to engage in random talk. “It must be rough working open to close every day.”
The customer doesn’t seem fazed at all. “Oh, he and his wife run this and the dry cleaning business.” Well, then. I guess he knows what’s up. Blimpie owner comes back and he and the customer are just “Hey, how’s it going?” I guess they’re friends, too.
But the point of this is, I was trusted to watch a restaurant yesterday. Sure, I’ve run pizza shops alone, like 20 years ago. But I was an employee then. I’m a customer now! What’s up with this trust all of a sudden?
