Lucky Star

If I could write a book about business models, I would definitely include a chapter about Joey.

Joey is the owner of THE best Chinese-American restaurant in o-HI-o. I'm not kidding. The food is fresh, they cook it while you watch, and it tastes awesome. Plus, the place is clean. Those things alone (or together) are enough for me to declare it a marvelous restaurant.

But there's something about this restaurant, aside from the food and cleanliness, that makes it the best Chinese-American restaurant in o-HI-o. Possibly even in all of the U.S.

There's Joey.

We started going to Lucky Star when we lived in Akron and my husband worked near the newly-opened eatery. He came home from work one night and said, "You've gotta try this place. It's awesome." I like chinese food, sure. But it tends to be rather...questionable. I have this thing about eating bamboo shoots and water chestnuts that smack of formaldehyde. Plus, at the time, I was on a health kick that required that all grains be brown and nothing contain MSG (which is still a requirement), so I called Lucky Star and asked if I could get my meal with brown rice.

"Shuaw," came the voice on the other end. "You wan' brow' rice? I make brow' rice."

"Okay..," I continued, "what about MSG? Do you put MSG...?" Before I could finish, a voice shouted back.

"NO MSG! NEVER MSG!"

Alrighty then.

I placed my order--broccoli chicken with brown rice, moo goo gai pan for Bo and two orders of fried wontons. It was ready when we arrived. And it was, indeed, delicious. I even checked the ingredients on the soy sauce packets. No MSG.

Lucky Star thus became a regular habit in our lives. I'd call Bo at work and tell him that I was going to place an order, ask him to pick it up. Chinese food replaced our pizza nights, our sub nights, and our fried chicken nights. We talked to Joey on the occasions that his ever-growing business allowed. He talked about coming to America from China to start a restaurant while behind him worked dozens of his friends and relatives who had come along with him, apparently inspired by his enthusiasm and his work ethic. We asked him if he's glad he did it. "Yeah," he said. "Business. Is good."

About the third time we ordered, I called Lucky Start and started my schpiel. "Broccoli chicken..."

"Brow' rice, righ'?" came the voice on the other end.

"Uh...right. And I would like to order two..."

"Two ordeh fry wonto', righ'?"

"Yeah! How did you know that?"

"Ready fifteen minute. Okay? Okay."

And, sure enough, it was ready and waiting when we arrived, even though we were five minutes early. Made to order. After all, the sign outside says "Chinese Fast Food."

As things usually go with us, our chinese food fit became a little worn, so we eased back into pizza and subs on Friday nights and our trips to Lucky Star became a bit less frequent, a bit more balanced. That wasn't to say we'd fallen out of love with Lucky Star. We just ordered a bit more sporadically. Still, every time I'd walk into the restaurant to pick up my food, Joey would be there, smiling and waving, holding my order in his hand even when ten other customers were walking in behind me. The amazing thing is that it wasn't just me. He had all of the other customers' orders lined up waiting for them, too. And he didn't have to ask which order was which. He just knew.

Our Chinese food hiatus lengthened into weeks and then into a couple of months. Bo would eat there for lunch occasionally, and Joey always knew who he was just by the sound of Bo's voice on the phone. Joey'd answer the phone saying, "Lucky Stah. Moo Goo Gai Pa'? Ten minute." Bo would have enough time to say, "Yeah," or "Make it General Tso's today," and the conversation would be over. The food was in the making before the phone hit the cradle.

After our little Sweetheart was born at home, I immediately craved Lucky Star food. Sitting in the comfy nook of my bedroom, snuggled with my newborn babe in my own bed in my own home, I picked up my own phone and ordered my own first postpartum meal.

Trying to think about all of the other people in the house, like the midwife and the kids and my dad, I stumbled along with my thoughts. "Um...lemme see. Well, I know I want two orders of fried wontons..." Before I could finish, I heard Joey yell my name with a tone of recognition and surprise.

"Yes!" I said, astonished. "That's right!" I placed the rest of the order and told him that it was my very first meal after the birth of our newest baby girl. He gave us extra fortune cookies that night. He's a shrewd businessman, Joey is. He's got a great memory, but he's still a shrewd businessman.

Then we moved away. And we lost Lucky Star.

There's a Chinese place here in our town. We've tried it. It's no comparison. And besides, there's no Joey.

Sometimes we tell people about Joey. Sometimes we refer people back in Akron to Lucky Star and tell them how good the food is. But it's kinda like a movie that hit you just right--you're not sure if it'll be as well-loved by others as it is by you. Sometimes I think, "Well, maybe Joey's not really as awesome as I remember him. Maybe I'm exaggerating."

But it only takes a couple of trips through the grumpy cashier's lane at the local grocery or an unpleasant run-in with a disgruntled McTeen to realize that not everyone is a Joey.

Today I happened to find myself in Joey's presence again. He has opened up another place in a town neighboring his first shop and we met with friends for a lunch date. Joey came out of the shop and met Bo on the sidewalk, waving and shouting his name. Aformentioned friends accompanying us were surprised. "You know this guy?" Bo nodded, grinning. Sometimes you wanna go where somebody knows your name.

"Been too long!" Joey chastised us. "You move too fah!"

"You need to come down south," I joked.

Joey pointed to Sweetheart who was standing by my side. "This the baby?" He shaped his arms into a cradle, rocked back and forth and smiled at Sweetheart.

"Sure is," I told him.

He took our order, pointed us to a seat, and handed us two sets of chopsticks for Sweetheart and me. He checked on us regularly while we ate. As we were finishing up, Joey brought us each a fortune cookie and tossled Sweetheart's hair. I cracked open my cookie.

"Your enthusiasm inspires people," it said.

Business owners, you spend a lot of money trying to get into the heads of your consumers. Listen up. I'll clue you in, and I won't even charge you.

I believe that's the model of a truly successful business, enthusiasm that inspires people. I've been to some swanky places that served great food or boasted an awesome atmosphere or made killer lattes, but if there's no human connection, it's just feeding the flesh. People respond positively to to a positive attitude. Behavior breeds behavior.

"Your enthusiams inspires people."

I looked up to see this enthusiastic entrepreneur greet another incoming customer, call out his name, ask him if he'll be having Pepper Steak today, ask him why he's been gone so long. I see the young customer smile shyly. I looked back at the fortune in my hand.

I think I got Joey's cookie.