A Friendlys story I’ve been sitting on

Go read some stuff about Friendlys filing for bankrupcy and closing some locations nearby here.

It’s time for a story.

I’ve always enjoyed Friendlys. There was a time, back in the 2005-2006 fitness era, when I ate there once a week. It was one of my cheats. I used to love getting chicken tenders, fries, and a 5 scoop Reeses Pieces Sundae.

I used to patronize the route 9 Latham location pretty frequently and exclusively. The service was always a roll of the dice. The waitresses were nice enough, usually, and the one waiter who kept saying “excuse me” was at least good for a laugh.

There was one time where the service was so bad and so funny,¬†we almost walked out. And it wasn’t even the server!

During a torrential downpour one August day, my brother and I, along with some dead weight, decided to stop on our way home for dinner. It was about 8PM. From the smell of Pine Sol in the air, you could tell they were probably getting ready to close early. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who decided to get off the road in the downpour and eat there. About 6 other parties entered the restaurant right behind us.

As the hostess walked us to a table, we heard some ruckus from the kitchen. One thing we heard from a punk kid looking cook is something that my brother and I still talk about to this day.

“Just because it’s Friendlys doesn’t mean you gotta be.”

You should have seen the look on my brother’s face. The fear that the quality of his food wasn’t going to be good in his eyes was a classic moment in my life. I just laughed about it. I mean, you never know what they’re giving you in the first place, you think this kid is really going to do something to your food? I think my brother did suggest that we leave right then and there. We didn’t, and the food was the usual.

Nowadays, we bring up the story and both laugh about it. It’s another reason of the myriad of ways that Friendlys has put smiles on faces.


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