I had a flashback memory earlier today from when I was a young boy, eating at Bill Knapp’s with my family. This was back in the day when the orders were handwritten in pencil on a paper order pad by the server, using whatever abbreviations they and the kitchen crew had worked out.
At the end of the meal, the server would bring that same order sheet to the table, now “the bill,” with the math calculated manually in pencil by the server. And then my Dad would double-check the math in his head.
Occasionally there would be a dispute over the math, and in my memory, my Dad was always right. But mainly I just thought it was so cool that he could do all of that math in his head, and I couldn’t wait for the day when I would be able to do that, too.
He was a math superhero.
And now I have an iPhone that will do the math for me…
Today, I passed a KFC that is obviously undergoing remodeling, but what caught my eye was the sign out in front of the restaurant, which said, “Drive thru open during remoldeling” (emphasis mine).
A couple of immediate thoughts I had…
- I don’t want any part of a food place that is “remoldeling.” One mold is bad enough; repeating it is worse.
- I definitely don’t want food prepped in a restaurant that is undergoing a remodel. “Would you like your chicken to be original recipe, extra crispy, or extra drywall dust? And would you prefer gravy or paint chips on your mashed potatoes?”
Just do us all a favor — close the restaurant while you remodel.
And fix the misspelling on your sign.
When our son was a baby, we would frequently have music playing in his room at night, and very often, it would be the soothing music of Enya.
We played her music so much, in fact, that now, anytime I hear her song, Only Time, even ten years later, I have the most vivid memory of being up in the middle of the night feeding my son.
The lights were off in the room, except for a night light that provided a serene glow.
I was sitting in a bright green upholstered rocking chair that we bought before he was born to have in his room for moments such as this.
My son was snuggled in my arms, feeding quietly from a bottle.
My wife was in our bedroom next door, sleeping.
It was perfect.