The Boost of a Blemish

Taberdon is a relatively different town when compared to its neighbors. Many of whom are bustling, suburban metropolises, steamrolling asphalt over any traces of green acreage or historical landmarks.  If by chance, dazed commuters hurriedly speeding from one town to the next, happen to drive through Taberdon, they would have a brief repast to travel back in time.  The colonial roots rise up and the antiquated houses, which now serve as bed and breakfasts and various offices greet these weary travelers (if only for a moment), are quickly left behind amidst their dust and exhaust as they are shuttled off to the next town and are thrust back into the twenty-first century.  Yes, Taberdon is a rarity these days.  

Along the main road resides the business district, as it has for the past two hundred years.  Businesses in Taberdon do not dare move beyond this area, as opposed to what happens in most towns, where, creeping like ivy, slowly choking off the residential neighborhoods.  Savvy business owners knew better, but Martha Peters was not savvy in the least. 

Sitting well off the main road on what many would call an alley, Aunt Martha’s Pancake House withered.  The few who even cared to give a thought to the business pondered how such a place in its location had survived for two years.  

            The restaurant, Aunt Martha’s was a lifelong dream of Martha Peters.  With her children now gone, she decided it was time to open her business to the angst of her loving and endearing husband, Howard.  While Aunt Martha’s had the love and care of its owner, to the community it was stranded and left to wither and die, as so many others had gone in such style. 

            One early morning, the sun and autumn breeze entered through the open door, as the only waitress, Erin stood, one foot in the door and the other on the sidewalk, glancing down the street. The morning was half over and there had only been two customers, who were regulars.  

            Erin peered down the quiet street, “The street is empty as usual Mrs. Peters.”

            Martha glanced up from the table with dismal figures on her mind, her reading glasses on her head of curly, blond-dyed hair, “I heard the festival in town this weekend should bring a crowd.”

            “I hope so Mrs. Peters,” said Erin returning to wiping dust off clean tables.  She was a good-looking young girl of nineteen who worked two other waitress jobs.  Mrs. Peters had always admired her work ethic.  She worked so much and lived at home with her parents to save her money.  “Smart head on her shoulders,” thought Martha.  Yet, truth be told, she did not need all three jobs.  Unbeknownst to Martha, Erin had a letter of resignation folded in apron to give to her that day.  

            Martha went over the figures repeatedly.  She would have to pull from her savings again to break even this month.  Her husband entered the kitchen, and she nervously jumped in her chair. 

            “Howard is that you?”

            “Who else would it be?”  Mr. Peters looked young for his age, but felt the worst he has ever felt in his life.  He thought maybe he had an ulcer of some kind giving him slight pains, or maybe it was all in his head.  He was nervous for his wife and her failing business.  He loved her, and supported her in fulfilling her life’s dream, but as he watched that dream go to pieces, he faltered when she needed his support the most.  

            He looked at her and then at the front door, “How many today?”

            “The usual two.  Hopefully the festival this weekend brings in a crowd.”

            “Martha, I think it’s time we had a talk,” he looked over at Erin. “-in private.” 

            “This is not the time nor place Howard, plus it’s almost ten,” Martha went back to her finance sheets.

“Fine,” rolling his eyes at the prospect of an influx of customers,  Then, first thing when you get home today.”  

With this dreaded conversation pushed off even further, he felt a slight grin on his face give way.  He hated himself for it, and hurriedly walked out the front door.  As he did, he held it for a family of four.  Glancing back towards Erin and Martha he spoke up, “you have some customers.”

            Erin sat the family and handed them menus.  Being used to her slow morning, she thought she had time to look at her phone.  Just then, the door opened and two more parties entered.  Martha gathered her financial sheets off the table, threw them in the back office on the unused, but cluttered desk and ran to the kitchen.  

            That day proved to be the busiest in the short history of Aunt Martha’s.  Howard was eventually phoned to return and assist in the kitchen.  Martha was stunned.  The customers were frequent and talkative.  Erin left her resignation letter in her apron.  She had made more tips that day, than in the past two years combined.  

            “What a day!” Martha exclaimed as she helped Erin clean the dining room.  “If business keeps going like this, we may need some more help.”

            Erin ignored the comment about more help and said, “I am curious though.  Some of the customers were asking me for my name and other random questions.”

            “Why do you think that’s strange Erin?  It’s just customers wanting to get to know their server better.”

            “That’s what I thought at first, but the questions were very odd.”

            “What were they? You should have come to me immediately if you were that bothered by them.”

            “Oh, they weren’t being rude or anything, just odd.  Like, one question was about where I went to school.  Another asked why I didn’t like traveling and seeing other cultures.”

Martha turned and looked at Erin, “But you haven’t gone to any school yet outside of high school, and you always said how much you wish to travel one day.”

            “Exactly!  When I answered them, they seemed confused, as if they knew me better than myself.” Erin realized she was raising her voice. 

            “That is interesting, but I wouldn’t let it get to you.  We had the best day yet!”

            “Yeah, we sure did.”

            The following couple of weeks were just as busy, if not more so for Aunt Martha’s Pancake House.  Martha hired another waitress and Howard was able to sleep at night for the first time in two years.  

            One Sunday morning, Erin’s friends came in for breakfast.  They were surprised to see how busy she was, but knew she was happier being busy than not.  At a slight lull in activity Erin sat at the table with the two of them.  

            “You guys sure are busy,” smirked the brunette girl. 

            “We are,” replied Erin, then lowering her voice, “but I have to tell you I keep getting the same, weird questions asked of me by customers.”

            “Those are strange questions, but we think we know the reason,” said the boy with shaggy hair leaning back in his chair.  

            “What do you mean- the reason?”

            He smiled and took out his phone, “Look here.  When you told us about what was happening here and the odd questions from customers, I began thinking about it.  Then my dad happened to share this review of your restaurant.”

            “A review? What review?” Erin was intrigued.

            “It’s a terrible review that was written about Aunt Martha’s some weeks ago,” said the shaggy-headed boy passing his phone to Erin. 

            It was indeed a review written about Aunt Martha’s Pancake House.  Erin’s eyes widened and she blushed, “This is a terrible review! One star! Who would write such a review about us?”

            The review was written anonymously and spoke so low of the food and customer service, that Erin had to read it over three times before grasping the full gravity of it.  It blasted a waiter by the name of Aaron and degraded him so much that Erin felt tears building up. 

            “Wait, my name is not Aaron, it’s Erin. E-R-I-N.  This has to be a man,” said Erin defensively. 

The brunette girl spoke up, “Wait Erin, hear what Sean has to say.”

            “I dug a little deeper and it seems this review was written about the wrong restaurant.  I just can’t find the correct one.”

            “Oh great, meanwhile we’re being thought of as this absolutely terrible restaurant.”

            “But this explains everything.  This is why you have been questioned, and people leave surprisingly happy with their food and service.”

            Erin looked up from the review for a moment and looked around at the bustling restaurant.  She glanced at Mrs. Peters, who was standing at the register smiling, talking with a family.  She smiled at her friends, “Well, for one thing it has surprisingly helped Aunt Martha’s.”

            “This review is so negative, it has spread over social media and people apparently want to come to just experience how terrible a place it is.  But look at the next reviews.”

            Erin smiled, “They’re wonderful.  Friendly staff, great food.”

            “Aunt Martha’s has made a name for itself, even if not in the best of light.”  At this, her friends left and Erin returned to work.  

For reasons unknown, Erin never told Mrs. Peters about the one-star review.  Aunt Martha’s truly made a name for itself.  Eventually, the positive reviews outshone the one negative.  The community of Taberdon grew to expect that the alley to Aunt Martha’s was to remain busy during the morning hours for breakfast.  As motorists hurry through Taberdon, many now try to take a glance up the side street leading to Aunt Martha’s, that once, so-called negative restaurant.