Finding Your Way In

I took my menu of nine different grilled cheese sandwiches from the second taste test & walked over to Winston's Beach Club one Monday afternoon.  There was nobody there except for a manager named Steve behind the bar.  His salt & pepper hair was slicked back & he had a sleeve of tattoos on each arm.  I showed him my menu & asked about setting up a cart late night.

"Well, we had a hot dog guy that came out for a while, but he got in trouble with the city over permits or something," he said, "so that didn't pan out.  Then, there was a different cart- Hot Diggity Dog, but they moved over to the corner on Cable [Street]."  Steve didn't seem excited about it.

"I'm doing grilled cheeses & I'd be able to setup Friday, Saturday & Sunday nights," I told him.  "People really like my menu, there's a bunch of different options.  And, it's way better than hot dogs."

"Your menu looks good," he said with a nod.  "But, what does your cart look like?  Is it small enough to fit on the sidewalk out front or is it a trailer that would have to park in the alley?"

"Right now I'm in the process of getting a cart.  I'm heading down to Chula Vista tomorrow for this one," I showed him the same printout I showed my relatives the week before.  I still didn't have the $800, didn't know where the hell I was gonna get it, but I today was about finding my way in.  

"The lady claims it has all of the permits.  I talked to her on the phone earlier & she said it's ready to roll."

He nodded at the printout.  "Alright, well let me know when you get it.  Here's my card.  I'll pass your menu along to the owner later this week.  I'm not sure if this is something he wants to deal with again.  At the end of the day, he'll have the final say on it."

"Well, thanks for your time, Steve," I said & shook his hand.  "I'll follow up with you later this week."