Empty Calories & Male Curiosity, #44 🥢

Hold The Teriyaki, Bring The Rage. My Real-Life Chinese Restaurant Episode.

QUICK HITTERS:

1. This week’s book recommendation was inspired by our family’s recent trip to Purdue University. They Call Me Coach was written by John Wooden, the greatest basketball coach of all time and a Purdue alum, in 1972. This is practically required reading if you are or were a coach, but I’d argue it contains tremendous advice for anyone.

   

   Wooden’s “Pyramid of Success” is well known in coaching circles. I was reminded of it by this outside of the baskeball arena…

   

   We did some other stuff while we were there as well…

   

2. Just a reminder that I’ve chosen to make this newsletter free. I’m not telling you that for any other reason than to make you aware that the platform I use to send this (Substack), punishes me for doing so.

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   You see, their algorithm won’t promote my work in the same way that it will authors who charge for their writing (of whom I have no quarrel with).

   So, the only way this thing grows is with your help. Subscribe if you haven’t already. Heart any posts that you read. Forward to a pal.

   

GOING DEEP:

Hold The Teriyaki, Bring The Rage. My Real-Life Chinese Restaurant Episode.

The Chinese Restaurant episode of Seinfeld aired on May 23, 1991. At that point the show was only in its second season, and hadn’t exactly hit its stride yet. Let alone become the iconic American pop-culture reference point that it has for many of us today.

The entire episode takes place as George, Jerry, and Elaine wait for a table at a Chinese Restaurant. Many TV historians consider this episode to be where Seinfeld truly found its footing. While the episode is essentially about something simple (waiting for your table at a restaurant), there are various subplots that run throughout.

One of those involves George waiting to make a call on a pay phone. At one point a woman rudely jumps in front of of his turn to use the phone, which spurs George’s famous rant:

At the time, you could maybe shrug this rant off, seeing as fictional George was living in real-life New York City, which has always been considered a place for the inconsiderate.

“I got a gun, let’s go to a Broadway show.”

But I have to say, in recent months and years, I have seen a significant uptick in my ‘society’ moments. Moments where I want to scream out loud to anyone that can hear, “We’re living in a society!”

A few weeks ago I was merging into traffic on an interstate. The person I merged in front of flipped me off. I did not cut this person off, nor did I cause them to slow down. The simple act of me existing in the universe seems to have set them off.

And what is up with people’s refusal to use turn signals? Particularly in parking lots. People will meander down the middle of a two-lane parking lot, eventually coming to a stop while they stare at you in your approaching vehicle.

“What? What is it that you are doing?” You mouth to them as they continue to get frustrated with you for some unknown reason. Eventually, you slip by them, inches from parked cars, and then see them in your rearview as they turn into a spot that was behind you.

Do these people think I have ESP? How the flip do I know what you wanna do?

“Go Where? We’re low on gas and you need a jacket.”

I got another middle finger last week. This time, the driver flashing the bird had pulled a quarter of the way out into the road from a parking lot, trying to make a left-hand turn out into traffic. It was a two-lane road with a 40 mph speed limit and oncoming cars coming from the other direction.

We slowed to a crawl, unable to swerve around him due to the opposing traffic. Eventually, he backed up a little so we could ‘sneak’ through. As we passed he was going apoplectic while flipping us the bird.

Did he seriously think two lanes of 40 mph traffic should literally come to a stop for him?

Then, earlier this week, I had a full-circle Chinese Restaurant moment. I had met my wife at one of those build-your-own-bowl lunch places. Chipotle-esqe, if you will. Except this place also had several pre-made bowls that you could choose from if you didn’t want to build your own.

It was an empty restaurant, but unfortunately, we walked in behind a family. The family ran the gamut of four generations: a grandmother, two adults (a man and a woman), one teenager, and a 2-year-old.

Just looking at them made us nervous. No way ALL of these people were going to know what they were doing. But we held out hope that at least one of them would, and then could explain the process to the rest.

And surely they knew what to order for the small child. Why else would you walk into a place like this with a child that young? When our daughter was little, we did more recon on restaurants than J. Edgar Hoover did on MLK.

Our fears were confirmed when the adult female in the group started asking questions to the worker behind the counter. As she received answers from him, she had to turn around and re-explain it to the group, because:

1. The adult male had been staring at his phone.

2. The grandmother had earnestly tried listening to the directions the worker gave, but to no avail. The directions would need to be repeated in triplicate to penetrate her 1980s encrusted hair helmet.

3. The toddler (who could ostensibly have been the child of any of the other four), was busy repeatedly punching the teenager in the leg.

At this point, any normal person (or group of persons) would allow the twosome behind them through to order. But no. This family continued to have a McLaughlin Group level discussion about their order.

What? Do you not get this 35-year-old reference to a PBS political discussion show? Get with it people!!!

We made pleading eye contact with the worker several times. While he gave us an understanding look in return, he did not usher us through.

I’d like to say I had empathy for these people. I’d like to say that I didn’t want to scream at every single one of them.

But I can’t.

Because I’ve been in those situations before. And any other number of situations like it.

The proper etiquette if you are in a new place with an older person and/or a toddler is to not even ENTER the line until a thorough review of what this restaurant serves, and how you order it, has been completed.

This would include, but not be limited to, explaining to the grandmother that….

• Teriyaki is a sauce.

• No, she won’t like Teriyaki.

• She must pick a pre-made bowl combination.

• No, there are no ‘meal deals.’

• No, we already told you Gammy, for the love of God, do NOT do a build your own bowl!!

The adult man and toddler are easy:

Adult man: Tell him the portion sizes and how much the upcharge is for extra meat.

Toddler: YOU order for the toddler. Do NOT ask their opinion in line. If you have been parenting this human for the past two years and still do not have a solid handle on what their fickle self will ingest, then you are a horrible parent, and your child should be revoked from you immediately.

I’d love to tell you that there is a moral to this story. But I don’t know that there is.

It’s almost like this entire piece was about nothing.