Welcome to the Kitchen

You can't afford to pay me, for the manager role I've been doing for years.

Because you have no passion,

No drive,

No love for the industry and the restaurant anymore.

You carry far too much fear to let anyone else have a say,

Because god forbid you lost any of the self-perceived "control" you have over the business, though you lost that years ago.

Why can't we fix the equipment that is a bad day away from blowing up,

Instead of calling a bartender meeting to tell them they have to wear short shorts and leggings in the summer,

Instead of changing menu items to more expensive and less profitable dishes because your supply reps talked you into it,

Instead of yelling at your staff as if your incompetence and lack of caring is somehow their fault.

The restaurant may have been your dream once, but your dream is dead.

This place is my home. This place is your nostalgic tribute to an old dream. Dreams can be intoxicating, even hauntingly painful to let go. I understand. you've had this bar for almost three decades. You've been through a lot. But a love that causes you hurt is only pain. A pain full of remorse, Full of fear to let that dream become nothing but a bittersweet memory.

I swear to you, when you retire, you will see your family more. You will remember the tranquility of not being responsible for us. Your dream will never die, it will live on in the people that made your vision into a joy for your customers, staff, and everyone that ever heard its name. Every sports team that ever celebrated a win. Every couple that ever shared their love. And every drunk that ever had a shot.

You really,

Need to just,

Let it go.

Sell it.

Other people have been keeping your dream afloat for years already.

Sell it.

It's not giving up, it's letting go.

Sell it.

Before you lose the drivers of your lost dream too.