It was our second meeting with the leaders of a Dallas organization and, since the first went so well, we decided to recreate the ambience by returning to the same location.
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Fred’s Texas Cafe. The Original Fred’s. Fort Worth, Texas.
Garry and I decided to stick with our choice from the first lunch from over a month ago — the Fredburger. As he was ordering, Garry quipped, “You can’t go wrong with a Fredburger since it is, after all, named after Fred.”
The rest of us laughed, even as the rest of the group settled on The Diablo which is, in essence, a Fredburger lavishly dressed with ingredients guaranteed to light up your mouth — and perhaps the rest of your day.
The server didn’t laugh, but commented drily, “Yeah, well you know, Fred is a dog.”
We actually found that funny and laughed again. To which she noted, “You’d be surprised how many people come in here and try to tell us that Fred is a close, personal friend.”
And, not to be daunted in our merriment, we all laughed again.
Name-dropping. It’s a big temptation. But you have to wonder about the reasoning of people who do it in a setting where there’s a fair likelihood that their charade will be exposed. I mean, if you tell people you know Fred and you’re at his restaurant, wouldn’t it follow that word would get to Fred and he would come out to greet you — a total stranger? How embarrassing. Unless, Fred is a dog. Even at that, there would have to be some embarrassment. Of course, Fred’s serves adult beverages. So, maybe not all that much embarrassment.
We all want to be known. We all want to be recognized. We all want to be somebody. Even at the risk of stretching our credentials just a little too far.
As I finished my Fredburger and fries, I couldn’t help but think, “I’d like to meet Fred someday.”