So, you may not believe this, but I know Wisconsin’s Secretary of State, Doug La Follette. I could call him to have lunch, and he would probably say yes. You see that thing on the floor? Yup, that’s a name and I just dropped it. You see, I love name dropping. I get to name drop so rarely that any time I get to state a relationship with someone of importance, power, or influence, I jump at the chance. Trust me, the old adage, “It’s not what you know, but who you know” is about as true as life gets. And if you drop the right name at the right time, it is amazing what opportunities will open up for you that you never thought possible.
JJ, JT and some boob. Best Super Bowl Halftime EVER!
Depending on the venue will determine what names I am able to drop, and some names are more worthy of dropping than others. I also never drop a name unless it makes sense to do so, and/or the situation requires it. I don’t just walk into a room and say, “You know, Janet Jackson was at my high school graduation and heard me sing” – True story. Now, if someone is telling a story about a famous person that was at their high school graduation, then I now have my ‘in’ to tell my Janet Jackson story.
So, today, when I was given the opportunity to drop a name, I was giddy as a school girl. About a week and half ago, my wife, Leah threw me a surprise birthday party. Lots of people showed up, I was 95% surprised, and it was very cool. And although I was not expecting any presents, I got a few. One present was a gift card to one of my favorite restaurants, Tozinos. Now it just so happens that the owners of this restaurant are my friends and are the ones that gave me the gift card. They have several restaurant locations, and I drive close by one of them every weekend when I drop off and pick up my son from his mom. Unfortunately, when I drive pass this restaurant it is either in the morning before it opens, or mid-afternoon and too early for dinner. But, everytime I drive by when I am hungry, I almost always stop by to eat. Today was one of those days.
I had just landed at Chicago O’Hare from Portland, Oregon. I picked my son up from his mom’s house and was heading home. I was starving. I had my gift card in my car and was ready to get some pizza and broccoli salad, one of my favorite items from this restaurant’s buffet. I handed the cashier my gift card and she attempted to swipe it. It would not work. She tried everything and the card would not register on her computer. She finally told me “This is an invalid card.” “Are you sure?” I asked, thinking that this card is from the owner. She finally said, “Sorry?” And then she gave me a look as if to say, you got screwed, and said “Who gave you this card?” “Perfect”, I thought. I told her, “Who gave it to me? Who gave it to me? I will have you know that the very proprietor of this establishment bequeathed that card unto me. The owners of this restaurant are personal friends of mine, and so you will show me some respect. I will have you fired unless this matter isn’t resolved post-haste.” I don’t know if I used those exact words, but it was something along those lines. The cool thing about this situation was that the woman was clearly nervous, which I thought was awesome.
The woman talked to her supervisor, and then called the corporate office and left a message on my friend’s voicemail. At this point, I’m thinking, I may have overplayed my “I know the owner” card. Because at the end of the day, it really wasn’t a big deal. I texted my friend, and he said that he would get the card fixed, but in the mean time, he gave me something far better than a gift card to a restaurant, he gave me a story. And I love stories. It is the gift that keeps on giving. My son and I finished our meal. Upon leaving, the cashier wanted to reassure me that she did everything possible to resolve the matter. I told that she would get to keep her job, for now. She kissed my ring and then we left. All in all, the dining experience could not have gone any better. Hmmm, who knows, maybe I will make a visit to the state capitol.
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My sister used to own a restaurant. It is a good thing that I never lived anywhere near it. Even when I visited the restaurant I didn’t expect to pay. My thought was always, “Don’t you know who I am? I’m your boss’ brother. I’m your boss uncle. I’m your buncle. So fry me up some shrimp, or I’ll fire your behind! I’m just sayin …
Race Credit Karma: Brett's Blog 