Adjacent to my office building is a little restaurant, or more likely diner, that is called Fathers. It is housed in some sort of modern art-converted boxcar deal that actually looks sort of cool. When I’m in it I always imagine that I’m in one of the post-apocalyptic novels I like to half-read and real buildings have been destroyed and the remainder of humanity is surviving by converting things like old railcars into diners.
Anyway, in the shower this morning, I was thinking about the name Fathers. The people that work there are all immigrants and I’m pretty sure they’re all related. They seem to work very hard and they have sort of a sense of ownership over the place that results in good food that is prepared quickly and at a very reasonable price. They seem to have pride in making the food and getting to know the customers. So I’ve imagined all along that perhaps the patriarch of the family owns/runs the joint and they all work hard to make their American Dream work for them.
The name of the place was what helped fuel my little fuzzy fantasy the most. I had somehow got it into my head that the head of the family had perhaps come over and named their boxcar diner after the dreams of his father and his father’s father who dreamed of one day owning a restaurant and making quality food for patrons. Then it occured to me that in reality, it is probably very likely that the place is actually owned by (and the profits actually go to) some rich real estate magnet who got all his money through inheritence and just bought this quirky place to impress some girlfriend. His last name would of course be Fathers.
I guess it really doesn’t matter either way why the joint has the name that it does. If anything, it was probably a brilliant choice just because it might provoke people to assume it is family-owned and operated even if that is not the case at all. I’ll still eat there either way. I guess I’ll just assume next time I see one of the counter guys just sort of run in, make a wise-crack and wink at an older lady, do what looks like punching his time card, and then run out, that he’s just screwing the owner as every good employee is likely to do now and again, as opposed to just having sweet-talked mom into telling dad he had to skip his shift because he had a hot date.
Ah, misperceptions.
-jd
