It's not my place it's Randy's. See, that's a bad attitude right off the start. That kind of talk will get you time in a small Human Resources department "interviewing" room with smiling blank eyed people that tell you it's really our place. Except it's Randy's Place. He found the place. He made the calls, used his experience, connections and skills to get to the landlord past the realtor, get the whole story and lease the place. More than the usual deal, if you know the whole story, that includes a wellness centre and other side bets, discounts, trades, finagles and show downs that Randy cobbled together to get a broken city block working again.
It's Randy's Place
I wrote the menu and made the Canadian Pub argument with my partner. Together we found the people that make My Place run. I gotta ask out loud sometimes, what kind of incredible positive balance in the bank of Karmic Hospitality would give us the wonderful people that we work with? The building has been about food for at least six decades - does indentured service to the dispensation of food give a building a particular feel or pitch about it that is the sirens' call to food lovers?
It's their place.
As soon as we started scraping away the old and revealing the new, people began to bang on the windows or, if we left a door ajar, just come walking in. They each announced "I used to come here all the time" and we smiled. We tell the new story and describe the future place each time, and we invite them back, and we hurtle through the renovation to the opening in time that left our suppliers smirking when we first set the date and impressed after we hit it. As the patio and then the main bar and finally the lower floors open to the public we realize how strongly these people feel about this place and we give it to them.
It's your place.
He sits at the bar. He asks all the right questions and mostly ignores the details of the business. And, yes, it's still his place.
But by now, truth be told, it belongs to everybody.
It's truly My Place.