Chanel and Dolmades

I worked for a jewelry company in Chicago. As production manager, one of my responsibilities was to keep the contractors on schedule. We had different contractors for different types of jobs. Some contractors I liked, some I disliked, but I had to work with them, all the same. Some were willing to go the extra mile, to help meet your deadline, to make your customer happy, and some had the "you'll get it when you get it" attitude.

One particular contractor was in a building right down the block from us. He was my setter for intricate, special jobs. He did my ring. He learned jewelry making from a long line of jewelers in his family. He believed in craftsmanship and quality. I loved working with him. He wasn't particularly quick, but I knew when I inspected his work, rare was the day there was something wrong.

Aside from doing work for my company, he had a successful custom jewelry business, too.

One Saturday, he asked me to go with him to Chanel to look at wedding rings. He had a client who liked the way a ring was set, so he wanted to get a good look at it. The best way for him to see the construction was for us to go as a couple and look at wedding rings because the associates wouldn't rush us. In fact, they brought us water or coffee. Back then, it wasn't commonplace.

Anyway, as a thank you to me for going with him, he took me to lunch at his favorite restaurant. It was some little place off of Michigan Avenue, and I don't remember the name of it, but they had the best Armenian food. Their dolmades are unparalleled to this day.

So we were sitting in this restaurant, the only two people aside from staff. It was a cozy little place, lots of brick, dim lighting, and vine upon vine for decor. We're sipping our drinks, when we feel and hear this LOUD EXPLOSION. My hair blew from the air rushing through the place. It seemed to have originated from the kitchen. We looked at each other, realized we weren't hurt, only startled. He got up to check the staff/see what happened.

He came back laughing his “You're SO stupid” laugh. The pressure cooker in the kitchen had exploded. It was a MESS. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Boy, was that loud, though, and I still remember feeling the rush of pressure go through the place. That lunch happened around 20 years ago, and I still remember that day.

I think we have a tendency to remember the days that are unexpected, the surprises, anything out of the ordinary. Something that makes it stand apart from the rest, whether it be good, bad, funny or sad. I think that's why I remember that day like it was last week. It was so unexpected, surreal, and, well, fun.

Relish the unexpected. Just remember, someday, it will make a great story.