For this week’s wonderful-yet-unpublishable review, we go back a few weeks to a colder, darker time: late January in Chicago. The nights fell early, the snow fell often, and restaurant workers suffering a dip in their income and morale due to the nation’s collective holiday hangover, fell for each other.
Or at least that’s what one would-be reviewer would have you believe, though we doubt this particular tale. For one thing, nobody’s desperate/forgetful enough to do this right in the window. For another, this reviewer, who happens to know the name of the two employees and the identity of the owner, is about 99.9 percent certainly a disgruntled ex-employee of the soul food restaurant that will go unnamed:
[Name redacted], Chicago, 1/30/09
I’m no longer going to this place due to the fact that while walking to work one night I pass by the restaraunt to find the cook (name redacted) having sex with the girl at the front counter (name redacted), right in the kitchen. Huge store window and they were right there. Thats nasty and i wouldnt recommend this place to anyone. Also, they customers and boss are rude and disrespectful. Beware.
Right. You’ll have to come up with a more subtle (though hopefully no less juicy) story than that to get published here. Oh, wait.
