Tuesday, March 23, 2010


I went to the local burger joint for dinner tonight. It's set up very simply: you walk in, order at the registers, and pay. If you're taking out, they call your name when your order is ready; if you're eating in, they bring the food to your table.

I was there for about fifteen minutes until my take-out order was ready. Two men were standing at the registers, looking at the menu, and debating what to order for that entire time. I heard pieces of the conversation, which included such scintillating debate as whether or not the herbs were spread throughout the meat or simply sprinkled on top. It's a fucking hamburger. A good, well-made, and tasty hamburger, but nothing more. A burger joint with a half-page of burger options is providing a service to both regular customers and obsessive-compulsives.

I've used a variation on this phenomenon at work. If I need a fast response from a client, I give them one or two options. If I want a project to be delayed for a while, I give the client six options or more.


zombie rotten mcdonald said...

Of course, if we ever work together, you have just allowed me to NOMM yer branes.


Big Bad Bald Bastard said...

I prefer my burgers made with pink slime.

My favorite restaurant in your neck of the woods is the Chip Shop on 5th Ave. I love their steak-and-kidney pie, but my best meal there was a filet of striped bass, the fish caught earlier that day by the proprietor.

N__B said...

the fish caught earlier that day by the proprietor.

I avoid eating the denizens of the Gowanus Canal.