But the Service is Excellent
He was well past his prime, he knew. The few stray wisps of hair combed from ear to opposite temple could not conceal the passage of ages. But he could still show some get-up-and-go, as he had in taking over the little sandwich shop, pursuing the American dream of entrepreneurial success.
Winning new customers was important. The sandwich shop lay just far enough off the main drag to lack visibility, so drop-ins were rare. Despite a sudden collapse of competition within the last year—when two blocks of more visible shops, including five food joints were closed down to pursue some new real estate project—customers remained scarce, which was part of the reason he was now at the counter, in place of the previous manager. So it was important that everything was right: the counter clean, the tables tidy, the menu accurate. Can’t impress the customers if everything isn’t perfect.
And yet these disposable menus he’d just had printed up weren’t perfect. The first section of entries, the hot sandwiches, were numbered, from one to twelve, just as they should be, with a tidy little period after each number. But the second section, the cold sandwiches, were not. Customers couldn’t simply walk up and ask, “Gimme a #27,” but would instead have to ask for a ham, salami, and provolone instead. Slow. Inefficient. It might put off customers who were in a hurry, and repeat business was vital. Quick service, that was the key.
Painstakingly, he pulled the first menu from the stack, and a felt-tip pen from beside the register. Bowing low over the menu, he began to number the entries by hand. One. Three. Period. One. Four. Period. One. Five. Period. One. Six. Period. His handwriting wasn’t so regular as a proper print job, but it would have to do. One. Seven. Period.
Someone was standing at the counter. The man could see it just in his peripheral vision. It nearly broke his concentration. One. Eight. Period. One. Nine. Pause. Touch up the nine—there, that’s better. Period. Two. A nice, even “O,” not too wide, not too short, but a proper oval…yes, that was good. Period. Start the next column. Two. One.
Whoever was standing at the counter began to drum his fingers. It was very irritating, very distracting. The old man pointedly decided not to look up. Maybe whoever it was would take the hint, and leave him to his task. It was very important to get everything just right. Customers want everything just right. Period. Two. Two. Period. Two.
“Hello?”
Whoever was standing at the counter spoke. It was very rude. This was almost as distracting as the finger drumming, but the old man managed to keep his head down. He could just detect a second person now, standing behind the first, waiting at the counter. He considered calling Vinnie from the back room to take care of the nuisance, but he hadn’t reached the end of the second column, and didn’t want to screw up his count. Three. Period. Two. Four. Period.
By the grace of God, whoever had been standing at the counter trying to get his attention gave up. He could hear whoever it was slip his jacket back on and pick up his bag. A moment later, the door swung open and shut again. The old man continued his counting. Detail is important. It’s vital to do everything you can to keep the customers coming back.
[Mostly true story. I was the distraction waiting at that counter, and, although I couldn’t swear to what he was thinking, it’s the most sensible explanation I could think of. I don’t know how the guy waiting behind me fared, but I wound up eating Chinese take-out instead.]