We hired a Central Oregon refugee. She came in and announced that she was a resident of Baker City for all of 48 hours, and by 72 hours, she was our go-to gal. She and her husband waved goodbye to Central Oregon when their oldest child left for college. She explained how over-crowded they felt, and how they could both get P/T minimum wage jobs in Baker and live in a much nicer home.
Preaching to the choir.
Then, while we were interviewing our last prospective employee (who ended up being our go-to guy for the kitchen), a car pulled up, parked, and a guy jumped out as if to come in for lunch. He then realized that we weren’t open yet, and before he could get in his car and drive away, I ran outside.
I smiled and yelled “TWO WEEKS!” and he turned around and came back to the front door. I told him we’d be open in two weeks, and gave him a card with our website on it, inviting him to send us his email address and we’d send him an invite to our private opening.
He said he and his wife had just moved here, and were living in the RV park until they either found a house or built one on the property they had just bought outside of town.
“Where did you move from?” I asked.
“Bend,” he said, reluctantly.
It seems to be the reaction these days when someone admits moving here from Mt.Bachelorville.
No shame, I said, and I admitted being from Bend as well. Almost as if we were Californians disclosing our previous zip code when approached by our new neighbors in Northwest Crossing. 🙂
And in other news, we’re 14 days away from opening our restaurant and couldn’t be more excited. I spent the day in Boise shopping for the last-minute things that we had completely forgotten about. Whitey spent the day golfing. He needed a day off after the last few weeks.
Our final inspection is scheduled for tomorrow, the rest of the ceiling is put up, and then the place is all ours.
So much more to do, and so few days to finish it.