I’m presuming your first thought was, “Nobody can tell me what I can’t read” and then proceeded to read this despite not having permission. No one ever wants to be denied access and that includes opportunities that would be avoided if they were readily available. The mind cannot always process that something you can’t have may also be something you don’t want.
I became aware of this conundrum when I turned down an extra ticket to a concert a colleague offered. The show was too expensive, the original drummer was in rehab or it was on my yoga night. I don’t recall the exact excuse behind refusing but one of those sounds reasonable. Obviously, it wasn’t because I was set to receive a Pulitzer Prize that evening.
Anyway, later on I heard on the radio that the performance had sold out. After discovering that the option of going was no longer in my control, I became devastated. It hit me that I was the number one fan of “Band Theta” and I was adamant on being there.
Unfortunately, the ticket trickled down the pecking order to some female. I tried bribing my friend with free rounds of alcohol to retake me instead and I insisted there was no way she was a bigger fan then I just realized I was and. Alas, my efforts to persuade him proved fruitless because what it really boiled down to was her having nicer legs.
As I sat on my bed concert night in dismay, I reflected upon the experience. Maybe it wasn’t my own desire to see “Band Theta” but it was falsely created in response to being unable to go. Demand for a product can be more essential then the quality of it. Finding out the concert was sold out did not improve the band’s music but for some reason it increased my craving for it.
With that wisdom, I had to find a way to take advantage of this phenomenon. I began pondering about how easily accessible a diner was. Given that it’s available 24 hours, there is never a mad dash to arrive. That leads to casually meandering around and leaving opportunities to wander off course.
Say a person wakes with a passion for waffles at the diner. Since they have infinite time, it’s common to end up getting distracted. They try to squeeze in a load of laundry to clean their favorite green shirt, read new catalogues from the mail while waiting for the dryer and before long they are at the department store shopping for discounted golf clubs.
Although enjoying breakfast at the diner was the original priority, there were no enforced parameters. Now the person has already eaten at the mall food court and has focused their attention on finding a tee time. The waffle plan was placed on the backburner and who knows when it will be spatula-ed off. The sappy diner never plays hard to get and is treated like a floor mat. Over convenience can be a restaurant’s worst enemy.
My proposal is to introduce an eatery that has restricted hours. Maybe not even hours, just minutes. If you don’t have a reservation or show during the allotted time at Pete’s 47 Minutes of Heaven Cafe, then you blew it. That won’t even account for the random days I shut the doors for private parties or to just to sit in the window mocking patrons.
This isn’t an easy rebound restaurant that’s wrapped around your finger. It’s a challenge, so when you arise in the morning, all of your attention is centered on arriving in the limited time frame. I’ll bet that people at my establishment missed board meetings, went with just deodorant instead of showering or recklessly weaved across 3 lanes of traffic to get there.
Now for the customers who are punctual, their adrenaline is pumping. This artificial sense of excitement has their mouth watering for any food. My pedestrian potatoes, mediocre meatloaf and floor wine have transformed into fantastic garlic roasted fritters, tender aged prime rib and table wine. The most difficult customers are ones that are grouchy, but at Pete’s 47 Minutes of Heaven Café everyone is so drunk off a sense of proudness for showing, how the food tastes is meaningless.
Twisting the hours of supply so tightly has demand overflowing in my favor. I have found a way to intertwine two simple things, limited working hours and serving average produce. This foolproof plan is a lazy man’s dream.
Alright, let me calm down because it’s unlikely my restaurant will launch. This entrepreneur considers making cereal, freezing ice and conducting the deli worker through making my sandwich as forms of cooking. Also, I have been oblivious to my lack of capital or have a prospectus worthy enough to get a loan financed.
Besides, I am more of an idea man. Creating a dream world scenario that has a low percentage of success is my strength. Anything towards making the design a reality shifts towards a weakness. If I brainstorm a get rich quick scheme, while putting the plan in motion, I devise ways to make that process easier. It’s a never ending cycle so I am better off on the couch instead of weakening the structure of the absurd idea until it collapses.
The morale of this story still remains. If the girl with the poor personality never returns your call, ballroom dancing class is filled or the limited edition presidential coin offer expired, don’t get upset. If you had them, you would be finding ways to escape or to dispose of them. You should have just listened that this essay was sold out. You could’ve been off doing something rewarding, like a puzzle or taking a nap. I am sure you’d rather pieced together an accomplishment or feel refreshed now.
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