Snippets
Takeout Lawyer's been busy this last week. Lots of personal news, but you're not interested in that. So here are some random items about the Thai joint that illustrate its absurd quality.
The Envelopes
Under the counter, near the takeout window, behind the radio that usually plays NPR, is a stack of envelopes. Ok, not a stack. A stack is neat and orderly. Someone once put a bunch of envelopes there, and they sit there, like a partially-opened fan, sorta. On my first day, I thought I would take all of the order tickets for the day and put them in an envelope, label it with the date, and put it in a special place so that Theo or his accountant would know what orders came in that day.
Makes sense, right? So at the end of the night, I grab an envelope.
But I can't open it. It's sealed. I grab another. They're all sealed. Every one. Pre-sealed, I call them. So I carefully tear off one side, stuff the order tickets in, and fold the torn edge over. I put them beside a bunch of pieces of paper sitting next to the cash register. I don't know where they go from there.
The Cigarillos
Theo smokes when he's not in the zone. That is, before it gets busy and then again after it's calmed down. While he's preparing food. Once when he was rolling spring rolls, ashes fell onto the pastry wrapper thing. Theo wiped 'em off as best he could and continued to roll and to smoke.
I don't really mind the smoking so much, though, because he smokes cigarillos. They're like big cigarettes, or little cigars. Cigarillos. Brilliant name. He asked me to go to the drug store to get him some once. With great care, he slowly and deliberately wrote the name down. It wasn't the name I was expecting. He wrote: Garcia Vygenia or something like that. Hunh. I guess it's a knock-off of Garcia Y Vega. (Not that I'm an expert when it comes to smoking products, but I can certainly tell a Tiparillo from a Swisher Sweet.)
I find the cigar section at the drug store. They appear to be all out of the Garcia Gevynas, but I do find the Garcia Y Vegas. Very mild.
The Menus
Ah, the menus. Theo's got a menu, of course. It's posted everywhere in the back, which is convenient. Printed on regular 8 1/2 x 11, tri-fold or bi-fold or whatever they call it. There are even some folded up on the counter for customers to take. One night we ran out of those menus, so Theo's buddy asked me to fold some more and put them in the menu display thing. He told me where they are. Theo has, apparently, 2,000 of these things.
And Theo showed me how to fold them just the right way.
So I'm folding, and I'm thinking. Theo sells a dish called salmon in red curry. Consists of an entire salmon steak. You know the kind. It's thick and big. And Theo charges $8 for it. $8. The barber, Jeff, from two doors down comes in every once in a while and buys it. Deal of the freakin' century, I think. It's fantastic.
I prod Theo on it, though.
Theo, the salmon itself must cost almost $8. How are you going to make money off that?
"Is ok. I charge not so much money now, but in three months, I raise price." He gives a little laugh. "I sell all food cheap prices, then make more expensive. Get them hooked on Thai food!" He seems really excited by this. I laugh along with him. Seems like a plan.
Then one day I come in and Theo's buddy tells me that they have new menus with new prices. Ok, fine. New menus, new prices. Now we're going to start making some money, especially on the salmon. Theo's buddy replaced all of the menus hanging in the back, so that when we take orders, we have the right prices. Cool. I'm down with that. Good thinking.
Theo's buddy leaves.
So, Theo, what do I do with all these old menus with the old prices?
"Oh, tha's ok. Just use dem. Don't want to throw away. Paid $2,000 for them. Very expensive. Just keep them, use them still."
But they have the wrong prices, so when people order, don't you think they might be a little upset if we charge them more?
"Tha's ok. Just tell them we have new prices."
I'm not sure how happy they're going to be with that, but Theo's obviously made up his mind, so I don't press the issue. New prices, old menus. I briefly wonder if maybe the old menus state somewhere on them that the prices are subject to change without notice, but then realize that I really don't care enough to look. Wu wei, man. Wu wei.
The Envelopes
Under the counter, near the takeout window, behind the radio that usually plays NPR, is a stack of envelopes. Ok, not a stack. A stack is neat and orderly. Someone once put a bunch of envelopes there, and they sit there, like a partially-opened fan, sorta. On my first day, I thought I would take all of the order tickets for the day and put them in an envelope, label it with the date, and put it in a special place so that Theo or his accountant would know what orders came in that day.
Makes sense, right? So at the end of the night, I grab an envelope.
But I can't open it. It's sealed. I grab another. They're all sealed. Every one. Pre-sealed, I call them. So I carefully tear off one side, stuff the order tickets in, and fold the torn edge over. I put them beside a bunch of pieces of paper sitting next to the cash register. I don't know where they go from there.
The Cigarillos
Theo smokes when he's not in the zone. That is, before it gets busy and then again after it's calmed down. While he's preparing food. Once when he was rolling spring rolls, ashes fell onto the pastry wrapper thing. Theo wiped 'em off as best he could and continued to roll and to smoke.
I don't really mind the smoking so much, though, because he smokes cigarillos. They're like big cigarettes, or little cigars. Cigarillos. Brilliant name. He asked me to go to the drug store to get him some once. With great care, he slowly and deliberately wrote the name down. It wasn't the name I was expecting. He wrote: Garcia Vygenia or something like that. Hunh. I guess it's a knock-off of Garcia Y Vega. (Not that I'm an expert when it comes to smoking products, but I can certainly tell a Tiparillo from a Swisher Sweet.)
I find the cigar section at the drug store. They appear to be all out of the Garcia Gevynas, but I do find the Garcia Y Vegas. Very mild.
The Menus
Ah, the menus. Theo's got a menu, of course. It's posted everywhere in the back, which is convenient. Printed on regular 8 1/2 x 11, tri-fold or bi-fold or whatever they call it. There are even some folded up on the counter for customers to take. One night we ran out of those menus, so Theo's buddy asked me to fold some more and put them in the menu display thing. He told me where they are. Theo has, apparently, 2,000 of these things.
And Theo showed me how to fold them just the right way.
So I'm folding, and I'm thinking. Theo sells a dish called salmon in red curry. Consists of an entire salmon steak. You know the kind. It's thick and big. And Theo charges $8 for it. $8. The barber, Jeff, from two doors down comes in every once in a while and buys it. Deal of the freakin' century, I think. It's fantastic.
I prod Theo on it, though.
Theo, the salmon itself must cost almost $8. How are you going to make money off that?
"Is ok. I charge not so much money now, but in three months, I raise price." He gives a little laugh. "I sell all food cheap prices, then make more expensive. Get them hooked on Thai food!" He seems really excited by this. I laugh along with him. Seems like a plan.
Then one day I come in and Theo's buddy tells me that they have new menus with new prices. Ok, fine. New menus, new prices. Now we're going to start making some money, especially on the salmon. Theo's buddy replaced all of the menus hanging in the back, so that when we take orders, we have the right prices. Cool. I'm down with that. Good thinking.
Theo's buddy leaves.
So, Theo, what do I do with all these old menus with the old prices?
"Oh, tha's ok. Just use dem. Don't want to throw away. Paid $2,000 for them. Very expensive. Just keep them, use them still."
But they have the wrong prices, so when people order, don't you think they might be a little upset if we charge them more?
"Tha's ok. Just tell them we have new prices."
I'm not sure how happy they're going to be with that, but Theo's obviously made up his mind, so I don't press the issue. New prices, old menus. I briefly wonder if maybe the old menus state somewhere on them that the prices are subject to change without notice, but then realize that I really don't care enough to look. Wu wei, man. Wu wei.
posted by Takeout Lawyer at 9:49 PM
1 Comments:
Man, you wouldn't know a Tiparillo if it bit you on the armadillo!
Lovingly,
Earbrass
Post a Comment
<< Home