Letter Posted On The Door Of A Shuttered Restaurant

TO OUR VALUED CUSTOMERS AND DEAR FRIENDS

Over the past 19 years it has been our absolute privilege and joy serving the finest clientele any business could hope for. As we all know, the recipe for operating a successful restaurant takes endurance, passion and just a pinch of luck. I am pleased to say, during our term, we were blessed with an abundance of all three. 

But even with luck the line between success and failure is razor-thin and profit margins are counted in fractions of a percent, even during the "Good Times". And we did have our "Good Times", didn't we? Over almost two decades we have celebrated countless birthdays, including two One Hundredth birthdays (Rest in peace Mildred and Charles).  Newly elected Mayor Bryon Canliss held his inaugural celebration in banquet room B, which spilled out into the bar and waiting area as cheers and hugs spread throughout our fine establishment. The photograph which sits prominently above the fireplace mantle captures a precious moment in our community's history, and is thought to be the last photo of newly elected Bryon Canliss before the tragic ski-buss accident the very next morning (Rest in peace Bryon and Malinda Canliss and half the night crew of Gladhands as well as twenty five other potential customers).

But they were not all good times and we came together as a community on many occasions under the bright red roof of what was once a Pizza Hut but for us has been home. We have held vigils twice for Baby Jennifer who fell down the abandoned mine-shaft and was heroically rescued at the age of six, but was not so lucky sixteen years later when she fell down the same shaft at what we would assume was an "age when she should know better" (Rest In Peace Baby/Average-Aged Jennifer). 

We huddled, as a community, during the zombie infection of 2017 and argued constructively about whether to let, seemingly healthy, Jack Parker into our midst as he begged and pleaded an assured us he hadn't been bitten. In the end compassion defeated suspicion and we welcomed Jack with open arms, a decision that would prove foolish and deadly (RIP the Anderson, Bateman, Kasick and many other families and potential customers. Jack, you sure were hungry).

While the town's few survivors roamed aimlessly through their new and dystopian hell-scape we remained open with what infected staff we could "Chain and Train" but the poor timing of the doomsday comet left me as our sole survivor, employee and customer. While I was very loyal and worked and ate every day (sometimes twice but I do have a weakness for Frank's Hotdog Haus), in the end I just couldn't keep ahead of costs and was forced to admit defeat. Perhaps we'll never know the true reason we couldn't make it. The economy. Bad timing. The lack of living customers. Its hard to know.

It has been a good run and I thank anyone still roaming the ashes who may remember Gladhands fondly. We sure remember you!

Yours Truly

Phil Parsons

Owner, Manager, Sole employee and Customer of Gladhands LLC

*really is a bad restaurant name.. maybe that was the problem.. sounds kinda "grope-y"