BlogOrama

I was using a public restroom the other day and extra toilet paper sat stacked on a shelf. The rolls, individually wrapped caused me to snap a double take when I read the name. Written across the TP label was the word CONFIDENCE in all caps.

First reaction? Snorting laughter burst from my lips. Then I thought about what confidence and toilet paper together meant to me. Yes, it all made sense. Tissue paper that won’t fail, always there in a pinch and most importantly, won’t inflict pain upon the user. I nodded in silent agreement to the producer of such noble toilet tissue.  

A few months back I discovered a roadside diner along a heavily traveled road where I often work. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but several cars were parked in the lot and it was almost lunch time. When a stranger enters a diner full of regulars there are two types of reactions I’ve noticed over the years.

1. Wary skepticism. You might get a nod from the first couple people at the counter. Sometimes it’s the “elevator eyes” where they look you up and down, inspecting you for who-knows-what. The hostess and wait staff smiles appear forced and their questions, “Table for one?” or “How are you today?” lack the proper warmth.
2. Warm acceptance. Conversations at the counter don’t skip a beat. The hostess greeting has all the sincerity you’d need. People in the booths smile and nod as you pass by.

In the B-diner, I always want to sit at the counter. You’ll sometimes get pulled into conversations or debates more often than not. It makes for a different experience than sitting alone in a booth playing with your smart phone or reading the paper.

So this diner, Brodie’s Diner is a B-diner. Even though I was the only person wearing a collared shirt, never mind a tie, it didn’t seem to matter one iota. But one thing made me hesitate sitting at the counter. The footrests. If I’m going to perch up on a stool while I eat, I need either a bar stool with support slats I can rest my feet on or a step that usually runs the length of the counter.

But Brodie’s had neither of these features. They decided it would be more cost effective to use milk crates. Yes, milk crates. Now I’m all for cutting costs but in this case the logic is flawed. You see, since I decided not to sit at the friendly counter I was guided to a table where I could view everyone seated there from behind. And what I saw failed to inspire.

The top of each milk crate sported a slight depression from the weight of the patron’s feet. And trapped amongst the open spaces and gaps in the plastic was, you guessed it, abandoned food. Bits of bread, egg, pickle and other unidentifiable consumables hung suspended like bugs in a spider’s web.

The rest of the diner appeared clean enough for me. Yet the space of floor under each crate looked sinister and shadowy. Maybe they glued them to the floor so they wouldn’t get kicked around by the customers? I looked for a suggestion box when I paid at the cash register near the door but they didn’t have one. A pity. The food was good. The table top was clean. Ketchup bottle and salt & pepper shakers were full. Cups, forks, knives, spoons and plates – all clean with no water marks or crusty food that the Hobart missed in hot wash cycle.

So next time you visit a diner, check the greeting you receive. If you’re in B-diner try the counter, but check the footrests first!