Steve Trotter

One morning while driving from Minneapolis to St. Paul I had the radio on. This was decades before cell phones. “Spotify” was some sort of fabric cleaner. Cassette tapes were all the rage.

That morning I heard an interview with a restaurant owner with the name “Mama D.” That was both the name of the restaurant (“Mama D’s”) and the name of the person.

Mama D’s I learned was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, small, with only a few seats. Italian to the core; Mama D, the chef. It was, by the interviewer’s words, a crowded restaurant, with most evenings seeing people lining up to get in. I regret I never ate there.

I don’t remember much about the interview, but this exchange never left me: Interviewer: “Mama D, with the popularity of fast-food, how do you compete with (insert name of fast-food restaurant 1) and (fast-food restaurant 2)?” (The interviewer used the names of two popular fast-food places; I’m keeping them anonymous.)

Mama D (You’ll have to imagine her thick Italian accent, as if she had just stepped off the boat): “Ah! One and Two, they’re all right. But there’s no love in the food.”

I remember hearing nothing after that except the echo of Mama D’s last phrase:

There’s no love in the food.

“Love in the food” became my measure for teachers, employees, politicians, public workers, bus drivers, authors, librarians, business owners, car dealers — I could keep going, but you get the idea.

Does this person put love in the food/their job/whatever the task is?

Recently I was asked by the Deschutes Public Library to do a brief presentation. One of their staff worked with me and soon proved Mama D was right. That staff person (Laurel is her name) put love in the food.

Laurel showed up well before the meeting started. She had the room set up, the projection equipment on, tested and working. She showed warmth to me and to all who showed up. Laurel demonstrated professional skill melded with personal warmth.

There was love in the food that evening. She did it again the following week.

I can tell you many stories — you can too — of folks in various settings who long ago quit caring, quit trying, quit working while still on the job. Folks — bosses or supervisors or employees, politicians and police officers, teachers and administrators — who put no love in the food.

No eye contact. Sullen demeanor. Low energy. Lower engagement. Around such, I feel as if I’m interrupting their more important agenda of X or Y or Z. I, the customer or client, am of far less value or importance than their plans.

No love in the food.

Over the years I’ve also found establishments and people who put love in the food. Who seemed eager to help, even when I wasn’t buying something. Who went the extra mile to answer my questions. Who saw me as an opportunity to provide a service or offer assistance, to put themselves to good purpose. They put love in the food.

I suspect you have too. If you haven’t, stay alert: those individuals and establishments are out there. Some of the love starts with you and me, of course.

Show up grumpy or angry or crusty or defensive or superior? Chances of finding love in the food goes down, and it ain’t their fault.

But when you find it. When you find that person (or office or business) who puts love in the food? I recommend three things. First, tell them in your own words what a great job he or she has done. Second, tell that person’s supervisor. Third, frequent that business.

Maybe one more? Fourth, ask yourself a question: When it comes to me, is there love in the food?