Chapter 3

I braced myself as I watched Sonia stomp her way towards me from the dark depths of the back of her restaurant. She was steaming mad. It looked like she was ready to deck me!

She came right up to my booth and put her hands on her hips. “YOU! You again!” She looked up as if talking to God. “Jesus fucking Christ! What have I done to deserve this?!” She shook her hands beseechingly towards the heavens only to put them back on her hips.

She leaned forward and glared at me again. She spoke through clenched teeth. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?! Please tell me you’re just here to eat lunch and scram. Do NOT tell me you’re going to stay all fucking day!”

I replied, “Actually, I’m eating lunch, as you can see.” I nodded down towards my mostly eaten eggplant sandwich. “Then I plan on staying here for the most of the afternoon.”

She raised her hands up above her head and clutched at the air. “ARRGH! I knew you were going to say that! Why me, Lord?! Why me?! Why am I cursed with having this deviant sex monster trying to ruin my life and drive me out of business?!”

She dramatically planted a hand on the tabletop, which allowed her to lean in closer towards my face. “This will not stand! Look at you and your fucking bra!” She glared angrily at Sue Ellen’s bra, still in full view not far from her hand. “Would you fucking remove that from sight, at least?!”

I shocked her by responding, “Sure.” I took Sue Ellen’s bra into my lap and out of her direct sight as I continued to talk. “I would prefer more ‘please’ and less ‘fucking, ‘ but that’s a reasonable request.”

That caused her to stand all the way back up. She put her hands back on her hips and exclaimed, “Why the hell didn’t you do that yesterday, then?! It was sitting out in full view the whole fucking time!”

“Because you didn’t ask me,” I said in a deliberately calm voice. “Sure, you railed about it a lot, but you didn’t ask.”

“Well then, what if I just ask you to fucking piss off, leave my restaurant right now, and never darken my door again?!”

“You could do that, but then you’d be welshing on the terms of our bet. I know we don’t get along, but even so, I admire you and I think you really are an honorable person who wouldn’t actually demand that I leave.”

She bristled even more. “‘We don’t get along?’ That’s the understatement of the year! I’m in the fight of my life just to keep my restaurant afloat, and the least thing I need is some dangerous sexual deviant stalking my staff here all day long!”

She planted her hand back on the table and leaned in aggressively again. “But you’re not going to get to me today. You know why? Yesterday, I let you get to me and distract me because I tried to deal with you myself. I came to your table far too many times, and it didn’t do any good. But today is your UNlucky day, because Paula happens to be working here too.”

She waved a hand in Paula’s direction. I realized that Paula was the name of the fifty-something frowning waitress I’d been wondering about earlier.

She continued, “Paula’s not just my best and most experienced waitress; she’s also one of my managers. When she’s here, I know she’ll take care of everything. She knows all about your perverted and disgusting ways, and she’s told me she’ll be glad to make your life miserable until you finally wise up and fuck off on your own accord. No bets broken there. So ... HA!” She stood back up and folded her arms triumphantly across her chest.

I was distressed to find that Sonia had an apparent ally in her effort to get rid of me. But I had a plan that had been slowly forming in my mind over the past couple of days during rare moments when I wasn’t feeling totally overwhelmed by my ongoing sexual adventures. Basically, I wanted to make myself too useful to Sonia for her to get rid of me.

I held a hand up in a “stop” gesture. “You could do that if you want, although I warn you that I’m not going to go easily.”

She huffed, “What the hell is with you and my restaurant?! You never used to come in here. I certainly would remember someone with your face! And now it’s like you’re fucking planning on living here!”

With my hand still up, I asked, “What do you mean, ‘with my face?’ What is it about my face?”

That threw her for a loop. She looked away, and muttered, “Never mind about that!”

I got the sense she would have blushed, except her face was already reddened from anger. From her curious reaction, I suspected she thought I was unusually handsome, but she was loathe to admit it.

However, I left that slide since I wanted to get to my plan. “Whatever. And by the way, I strongly object to being called a ‘deviant’ and a ‘monster’ and all the rest. Anyway, I’ll make it easy on you and on Paula. I’ve brought my laptop and I’m planning on working here all afternoon. But I’ll make a mini-deal with you. I want to talk to you for just five minutes about your restaurant. Just FIVE minutes! If you think what I say has absolutely zero merit, then I’ll leave as soon as I finish my lunch and I won’t come back until tomorrow.”

She wailed, “‘Tomorrow?! Joy!” She groaned loudly. “Why do you keep coming here?!” She unfolded her arms and shook her hands in agitation.

“I have my reasons,” I said cryptically. “Partially, I’m interested in this restaurant as a business. I think you’re sitting on a potential gold mine.”

She snorted derisively. “Yeah, right! I’m just barely breaking even. And ANOTHER motherfucking Olive Garden has opened nearby, and this one only a few blocks away. ‘Gold mine?’ More like a money pit!”

“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. I have some ideas that I think will completely turn this place around.”

“YOU?!” She pointed at me accusingly. “From what I understand, you’re an author of stupid, pulpy books, not to mention being a full-time sex freak! What do YOU know about running a restaurant?”

“Absolutely nothing,” I replied honestly.

“Ha! Thought so. Do you at least have some knowledge of running a business?”

“Nope. I’m totally clueless on that too.” I put my hand back up. “I know, I know. You’re going to ask why the heck you should take any advice from me. But all I’m asking is five minutes. If what I say is nothing but crazy ramblings, then tell me so and I’ll leave you alone the rest of today. Just today, mind you, but this would be the easiest way to get rid of me for that long.”

She asked suspiciously, “And if I don’t think you’re the crazy idiot that you obviously are?”

I held my hands out wide. “Then, I do stay the rest of the day, and you and Paula can’t hassle me during that time.”

“That’s it? And I get to decide?”

“You do.”

“That’s a fucking no-brainer then. Fine. Let’s hear your stupid little ... whatever.”

I pointed to the opposite side of the booth I was sitting in. “Please sit. I get five minutes, but I want your full attention. If you stand, you’re going to be impatiently looking around the room.”

She looked at that side of the booth skeptically. “Okay, fine. Whatever. But NO touching. Not even a knee brushing under the table or some sneaky crap like that. The way I look at it, you’re like some kind of disease. The thought of you touching me makes me ill.”

“And I like you too,” I said sarcastically. Although the truth was, I did kind of like her, in weird way. She had a lot of spirit and passion. Unfortunately, much of that was directed against me.

She slid into the booth, then looked at her watch. “Okay, I’m timing you. Your five minutes exactly begins now.”

“Okay, good,” I said. “No interrupting for you, okay?” After she reluctantly nodded at that, I started into my pitch. “Here’s the thing. I don’t know jack shit about how to run a restaurant, I’ll admit. But I have lived only a few miles from Mama Mia’s for many years, and I know a lot about this area and the people who live in it.”

That got her attention, at least to some degree. I hoped that she hoped she might at least learn some useful local information from me.

I told her, “This restaurant would do well in this area as it was, oh, say, about twenty years ago. But it’s changed a lot since then. To be frank, most of it has gentrified and gotten a lot wealthier. Mama Mia’s is a kind of a working class greasy spoon. That’s not an insult. You serve quality food for a reasonable price.”

That got a proud reaction from her. “That’s right. That’s practically my personal slogan. Our food is MUCH better than that pseudo-fast food crap they serve at Olive Garden!”

“I completely agree. Unfortunately, that’s not what the people around here around looking for. The newer, wealthier people, I mean.”

“Bullshit! That’s what everybody wants. Who the fuck wouldn’t want great food for a cheap price?”

“Bear with me. Of course that’s a great combination, but there are other factors. I’ve known this place has been a hidden treasure for a long time. You may not remember me, but me and my wife have been coming here occasionally for years. But most of what I’ll call the ‘new crowd’ will never find out how good this place is because they’ll never give it a try. They want something upscale and classy, and they think this place is beneath them.”

She glared at me. “And that’s your big insight? I’ve very aware of that already, thank you very much. But it takes money to make money. I wish I could give this place an overhaul from head to toe, but I can’t afford it. Like I said, I’m just scraping by. And unlike you, I don’t have money to burn. Oh yes, Sue Ellen raves about how big your house is and the enormous backyard with the pool and the deck and the direct view of the ocean and blah blah blah. If I had that kind of money, believe me, I’d be putting it into my restaurant. But I don’t, so I can’t. Are we done here?” She started to get up.

“Not hardly. I’m just setting the scene.” I waited until she reluctantly returned to her seat. “As it so happens, the ‘new crowd’ has some quirks you can take advantage of. When it comes to food, they’re concerned more about food purity and quality than a fancy building and classy decor. And this is the key word: ‘organic!’ They’re CRAZY for organic anything! You’re in the ideal location to take care of that. This area has been changing rapidly, and most restaurants haven’t kept up. There are very few restaurants around here that serve any organic food whatsoever.”

Sonia sighed impatiently, like she was dealing with a stupid child and was running out of patience. “Look. I know all about organic food. That’s been a thing since the sixties. But that’s a niche market, less than five percent. And it’s not who we are. My customers roll their eyes at that kind of thing and especially at the ridiculous prices.”

I said, “Maybe so, but that means you need new customers, and more of them. Sure, organic is a niche on a national scale, but it’s growing in popularity and it’s all the rage in this area. I can’t emphasize that last point enough. There’s a Whole Foods just a mile or two down this very street! Have you seen how the parking lot there is full all the time? That’s the ‘new crowd’ I’m talking about.”

She made another scoffing noise, but at least she was paying attention.

“Like I was saying, you’re sitting on a potential gold mine. Here’s what I would do if I was in your shoes and I had a very limited budget. Come up with some organic options for your most popular dishes. It doesn’t even need to be all organic. If you just have say, organic pasta and organic tomatoes, that’ll be good enough, at least for a start. Print up new menus with a special organic section highlighted and just test the reaction. If it works, then you can go more in that direction.”

I went on, “But here’s the thing, and here’s the key: make a huge sign, and I do mean a HUGE sign, out in front. Bigger even than your ‘Mama Mia’s’ sign. And put it right up to the main street, so anyone driving by can’t miss it. Have the sign say: ‘new organic menu.’ That’s it. I swear, all those people coming and going to Whole Foods will swarm to this place like bees to honey!”

I continued, with growing enthusiasm, “And here’s the great part: the new crowd types I talk about are rich, very rich. They don’t mind being ripped off and paying way more than they should for organic food at places like Whole Foods, because they’ve got money to burn. Sure, your costs for the organic items will go up a little bit, but your profit margin for those will go up way more! I don’t know the exact numbers, since I admittedly know next to nothing about the restaurant business, but the difference is bound to be so huge that you literally can’t miss!”

I added, “I tell you, you’re missing out. It’s like running a dollar store in Hollywood: you might break even or even make a little money, but you could be doing soooo much better. This place has gone way upscale, and you’re still clinging to the remnants of the working class crowd. More and more they’re going to eat at the Olive Garden, since that place can beat you with more advertising and other advantages of being a large chain. You need to either change with the times and location, or die. The key to your salvation is the organic menu. Sure, a complete makeover and a grand reopening would be best. But you could still do a lot on the cheap. Having a big ‘organic’ sign out front is the key to the whole thing!”

I sat back and waited for her reaction.

She stared at me for some long moments with a look that could only be described as sullen and annoyed. Finally, she asked, “Is that it? Are you done?”

“That’s the gist of my main point. I could say more. I have many more ideas, actually. I’ve been thinking about this a lot in recent days. But maybe this is all falling on deaf ears, so I’d like to see what you think before I say more.”

I felt hopeful, despite her continued hostile glare. I thought it was significant that she’d started out occasionally glancing at her watch, obviously keen for the five minutes to end, but she’d forgotten all about the time about halfway through my pitch.

After another long pause, she said, “Good. I’ll admit, your idea isn’t totally crazy. But you know nothing about the restaurant business and it shows. Your ideas would never work, for a whole variety of reasons that I’m not even going to go into because it’s a waste of my time talking to someone like you. So, since you’re done with your damn five minutes, finish your damn sandwich already and get the hell out of here!”

I was shocked. “Really?! You’re going to kick me out for the rest of the day?”

She snorted derisively. “I’d like to kick you out for the rest of time, but I’ll take the rest of the day for starters.”

I said, “I don’t believe you mean that. I think you’re a better person than that. I know you hate me, but I actually do really admire you, and I sincerely mean it. When I see you, I see someone who has been put in a bad situation. Sue Ellen tells me this restaurant fell into your lap as the main part of your divorce settlement, and you knew nothing about running a restaurant or even running anything at all. But you’ve put your heart and soul into this place and kept it going mostly through lots of hard work and sheer determination.”

She said fiercely, “That’s right. And that’s why I’m so eager to kick you out and keep you out before you turn this into some den of iniquity for your perverted sexual games! To think that I would take advice from the likes of YOU! I might as well take advice from a pedophile neo-Nazi!”

I shook my head sadly. “Sonia, I think you’re better than that. When you say that, you’re letting your personal hatred of me trump doing what’s best to make your restaurant succeed. My ideas are good and you know it! You’re just too stubborn and angry to admit it. And I have much more to say. I don’t know the restaurant business, it’s true. I’m just an author. That’s true too. But I’m a successful author, because I’m observant about human nature and the world around me, and I’m creative. I know way more about the new crowd that’s taking over this area because I’m one of them, and I associate with them. I’m betting you don’t, and you don’t even know many people who do, because if you did you’d already be making changes to move with the times. Do you really want to see your restaurant die just because you hate me?”

There was another long pause. She looked to be on the verge of exploding and yelling her head off. But instead, she seemed to manage her temper, though just barely. She actually clenched her hands in the air and growled, before exclaiming, “You! You’re the most fucking ... frustrating man I’ve ever met!”

She got out of the booth and stood up. Then she glanced down at my mostly eaten eggplant sandwich. “Finish your fucking sandwich already!”

“Are you going to kick me out after that or not?”

She turned away and ran her hands through her hair like she was on the verge of tearing her hair out. “ARRRGH! I’ll admit ... you have a slight point with your organic ... fucking ... bullshit. Just a slight one, mind you. It’s still not workable for reasons you can’t even begin to see, but you’re not totally crazy. So, technically speaking, I guess you’re allowed to stay. But I sure as hell hope you’ll leave anyway!”