So far, today has been sub-par. I’ve been in the library since like 7 am studying for this stupid final, and my head hurts, which is probably directly correlated to the shocking amount of MD 2020 I drank this weekend. Whatever. I live a life without regrets. Anyway, it looks like my guardian angel decided to brighten my day, and threw a little gift my way: a nice review for my site on Facebook.
Say what you want, but a five star review is a five star review. So what that he thinks that my website consisting of me spewing my deepest thoughts is an above average restaurant? I’ll take anything I can. Fake it til you make it.
Honestly, the review is pretty on par with the site, if I’m being honest. Is the service great? Not exactly. I still don’t know how to use WordPress, and my site design is on par with a porn website from 2001, not that I watched porn at age 6. That being said, the food (blogs) I agree are spectacular. You get what you put in, and grinding out multiple posts everyday while putting off all other responsibilities sure has paid off.
Is the service slow? Well I send most of my morning emails (please subscribe) more closely to noon these days, so I guess that’s a fair argument. Sorry, I need my beauty sleep, and a kid needs to dream.
This review has also inspired me to start thinking about entering the food business. If I can pull off this type of review without even owning a restaurant, imagine the damage I could actually do with one. I worked at a Papa Gino’s in high school, so I think I know everything I’ll ever need to about the food industry. With that, I have a few ideas about my future restaurant. Here are a couple:
Leave a gallon of water at ever table so I don’t have to have my water refilled every 2 minutes
Besides the Holocaust, ISIS, racism, and Amy Schumer, is there anything worse than restaurants that give you tiny glasses of water that need to be refilled constantly. Everyone knows how big I am on hydration. I’m a human camel. My brain works harder and faster than anyone else, so it makes sense that I need more water. So in my restaurant, I’ll have at least a gallon of water at every table.
I’m not sure why, but my ability to see the good in people does not translate into seeing menus, especially in dark restaurants. I’m not sure why restaurants do this, but the lighting in there always makes me feel like Helen Keller with ears. A white Stevie Wonder, if you will. It’s hell. In my new establishment, I’ll insist of having normal lighting for humans.
There’s nothing that makes me more furious than biting into a bread role and having it feel like I’m chewing on a crack rock. I didn’t go out to dinner to eat like the homeless guy outside. That’s what 7/11 is for. Also the butter will be more spreadable than Chlamydia, or Elton John’s butt cheeks. Both are not great examples, but I think they get the point across.
No guy waiters
This might come across a little sexist, because it definitely is, but I don’t like when other guys wait on me. I just feel weird. By nature, guys just aren’t as compassionate or caring as woman, and I think that translate to food service. Like I know whenever a guy asks how my meal is, he doesn’t give a fuck, and that’s honestly okay with me. There’s just no way he can. It’s biology. Also, there’s nothing more humiliating than asking another man for a to-go box. It’s just accepting defeat.
That’s all I have for now. I probably shouldn’t have written 700 words about this 20 minutes before my final, but final grades don’t bring in ad revenue.