Disappointment

by Shannon

About once every four months or so I fly down to North Carolina for meetings with some dear friends and colleagues, and since this is the location I worked at previously I am always excited to hear about what is new.

Let me begin by saying that about three years ago, we moved our offices from the metropolis of Rocky Mount, NC (pop. 65,000) to Whitakers, NC (pop., at best 650). We would often joke that Whitakers was the bedroom community of Rocky Mount, but that was just to make the twenty-minute drive past cotton and tobacco fields seem more glamorous. 

When I lived there, there was a classic dive named “Lisa D’s”. This was a converted gas station, adorned with fifteen-year-old Dale Earnhart posters and a 1997 Nascar schedule on their walls. No matter what you ordered it came on a flimsy paper plate with a stack of the one-wipe-and-done napkins.

A couple of us would sometimes risk our health and eat there because we forgot to brown-bag it and didn’t feel like driving all the way into town to Chik-Fil-A. It was always an adventure, but the sweet tea at Lisa D’s was always perfectly brewed.

Anyhow, I found out after moving to Rockford that Lisa’s went under. I was crushed. But, my spirits were quickly lifted when I found out a new joint in town had just opened. The Pink Magnolia Grille. WOW! I couldn’t wait till my next trip down so I could visit this fine establishment and review their biscuits and gravy. So, I made my plans.

I arrived last Monday and planned on hitting the new eatery on Thursday with a friend. So, we arrived at the office and carpooled the half mile to this upstart. What sat before my eyes was a triumph in architectural form. Sure, it was small, but the building’s lines were clean and crisp. But it was the color that gave this building a unique glow. It was painted bright pink and it beckoned hungry people as it was placed in the middle of a canvas of gravel and dirt, and set against a backdrop of southern pines. Stunning.

I walked in and immediately noticed that this was a place for the hungry. There were no tables…just a walk up window with a linoleum entrance. I figured, people placed their order and because the food was so good there was no need to sit and eat it because it would be devoured by the time you found a table. Smart.

 

But…my excitement turned to pure angst when I asked for their biggest plate of biscuits and gravy and I heard the words you never want to hear—”I’m sorry, but we don’t serve biscuits and gravy.” My head began to spin and I quickly realized that I needed to sit down as my vision became blurred. I put my head in my hands and quickly gathered myself. The lady wondered if I had suddenly become ill and was concerned. Little did she know that my day…nay my week had come crashing down.

Of course I asked “why!?” and as I moved from disappointment through sadness and on to anger, I began to try to be logical, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help but wonder how it is that in the heart of pork and grease country (the two main ingredients in gravy) a place wouldn’t serve my favorite breakfast. As I pondered, I realized there were going to be no easy answers—nothing that would soothe my aching belly.

After regaining my composure, I felt like I needed to buy something since my buddy and I were probably their only two customers all morning. And who can pass on a hoop-cheese and country ham biscuit? But I digress…what I ordered at this point is irrelevant. 

I write this entry to uplift the spirits of those of you who have suffered the same fate. To encourage you, that while you will be tempted to go through the whole myriad of emotions, that it’s simply not worth it. Accept the outcome and move on. I, myself, must muster up the courage to find another place and hope they don’t let me down.

In the end…the quest for the perfect plate of b&g is worth it.

Press on.