...Yea some partnerships can survive and thrive. Me and my partner have been Sancho and Don Quixote since before Carter. We gently butted heads and behinds but never once got in the other's face. I'd turn the music up, he'd turn it down. I'd turn down the lights he'd turn em up. He preferred dark wood, I liked natural tones. I preferred a NY Strip, he was a filet man. He liked a clean look on ads and menus, I dug funky artwork. He wore a 3-piece suit to funerals and weddings, I didn't own a tie. I wrote the training manual, he wrote the soup recipe. I deciphered the lease and the P&L, he decoded the broiler specs and re-plumbed the gas lines.
Handling employee snafus and removing rowdies by the seat of their pants was my job. Rewiring a 220v receptacle was his. He stayed alimony free, single and happy. I stayed married and happy. And neither of us ever offered the other romantic advice or was a sterno sniffer, slave to the bottle or arm spiker.
If he was in maitre d' mode I eased to the back. If he was on the kitchen line I manned the front. We both signed checks, both interviewed, neither ever questioned the other's integrity. We coulda made lots more money if we'd been a tad more tyrannical with pricing, expenditures, overtime and leaner staffing. But that wutn't our style.
Along the way we each made concessions, chased a few windmills, sometimes the same bar girls. We had a lotta laughs, made a lotta mistakes, peed in a few public fountains, but never needed bail money. And through it all we never jumped into each other's face and always respected each other's veto.
From what I hear that's plenty unusual.
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