I went to Urban Chicken in Montclair, NJ because I heard it was good. When I walked in, a woman behind the counter saw me reading from the menu mounted on the wall above her.
“Have you ever been here before?” she asked. I said no.
“Would you like a chicken tutorial?” I said yes.
She walked me through the menu, describing all the delicious options available. I asked her if this was a single store, or whether there were others. She decribed the long successful story of Urban Chicken. She and her brother started with one store, and currently have several in the state of New Jersey. Her name is Laura, and his is Larry.
I bought a breast and thigh, with homemade coleslaw and a piece of cornbread thrown in, for a very reasonable price. It was delicious.
Two weeks later, my wife and I were on a weekend bike tour of bars and restaurants in Montclair, and guess where we went? Urban Chicken. I wanted to show it to her.
A man wearing a white apr0n lounged in a chair on the sidewalk outside the store in the early warmth of spring.
“Your name is Larry,” I said, trying to take him by surprise. He said yes.
I told him how his sister had served me when I first came in. We chatted briefly. I told him I’d be back.
Some people have a knack of piercing the protective shield we wear around ourselves in public. They have an unfair advantage over the rest of us. They make friends fast. They get to the lizard brain at the base of our skulls in a matter of seconds.
Laura has that knack. It’s good for her business, and a good way to live. She makes people feel known and recognized. She’s a connector, a helpful persuader, and a trusted chicken advisor.
She would also make a great salesperson (actually she already is) and a good presenter. With a touch of authority and a pinch of gravitas, she’d be a superstar in the executive ranks of corporate America.