Sometimes it can be a good thing, on a personal level. There was a period when my folks would come to town, and invariably my family would have to join them and my sister's family for that overpriced Sunday brunch thing at the B-town Bristol. Bad enough for a long table to converse in a noisy restaurant, but once the jazz trio was added to the mix...thank god that tradition evaporated!
My wife discovered the old Third Street Cafe through work, and our family enjoyed patronizing it, until the last time, when as the three of us were conversing with our meal, we were interrupted by some crappy combo setting out a plastic 5 gallon mayo jar labeled TIPS. If the management's intent was to turn tables, it certainly worked. The next time we dared down, we found the place shuttered.
Here's a funny story. Last spring break, we drove down and picked up our son, and spent a week in a cabin in a TN state park. My wife, the cruisemaster, misjudged the timing, so we wound up back in Murray on a Sunday hours before he could get back in his dorm. Blah blah blah. We ended up at a Captain D's at 11 for an early lunch (certainly not my choice) right after they'd opened. At least the fry oil would be fresh. As I looked at the crappy decor while eating my chicken tenders, I was thrown off by the piped in music. It was frantic tempo modern jazz. As Muzak, it didn't make sense. But then I remembered satellite radio. After one particularly appalling track, I announced to my family, "I never thought I'd say that I actually loathe scat singing." It was definitely table-turning music--I felt very uncomfortable the longer we ate--though there was only one other occupied table to be flipped at the time. Why the gods at corporate earn 7 figure salaries.
Heading to the punchline. My discerning son is a fan of Your Food, and my later bands. When Kate went off to the restroom, I apologized to him, "Sorry that I squandered all my negligible talents on this punk rock shit, that your inheritance won't include royalties from my music being played at Captain D's." I took a final bite, swallowed down with soda.
"It is a pity," he waited to announce. "Think of it. You could've been in a band called Your Groove." I burst out laughing, so proud of my clever son.
As we picked up our trays to get the fuck out of the place, he declared with a cocky look, "And now you owe me."
"For waiting for you to swallow, so you didn't blow soda out your nose."