I have a weakness for hot dogs, which, while embarrassing, is not nearly as embarrassing as some things I could admit to. I can see two hot dog stands from my office window. One is a generic little cart run by a generic little Russian guy. The other is Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs.
Biker Jim has a big shiny grill. His logo is a grinning skull with sunglasses, pierced by two hot dogs. Biker Jim has reindeer sausages and elk jalapeno cheddar brats and wild boar dogs. Biker Jim grills onions to go on any of his dogs, and he has a cream cheese caulking gun that he applies liberally upon request. He’s a handsome 50ish guy with a ponytail and interesting tattoos. He keeps music going on the boom box at the right level, loud enough to get you in the mood and not too loud to have a conversation. He’s a good talker, and he engages anyone who comes within the cart, giving them the ins & outs of the gourmet dog experience.
Biker Jim’s dogs cost three times what the little Russian guy’s do. Biker Jim always has a pretty long line going.
I bet you know what I’m going to say next.
Biker Jim is telling a story worth repeating
His take on the hot dog cart is literally remarkable. People in my office building mention him all the time. "Did you get that from Biker Jim? Do you like the reindeer? I always get the elk jalapeno, but I’m thinking about trying the reindeer."
Me, I actually always go to the little Russian guy. I don’t want grilled onions, and I’ve got to be honest–an elk dog and a reindeer dog and a German veal dog are all still . . . hot dogs. Plus I never want a hot dog badly enough to wait in line 15 minutes for one, and I like talking to the Russian guy about Moscow. He’s polite enough to listen to my halting attempts at Russian, and his dogs cost what I think dogs should cost.
The Russian guy gets enough business to scrape along. He could start telling a story at any time–a story about where he came from, a story about interesting things to put on hot dogs, a story about his product being worth more than a dollar or two. But he doesn’t. It’s too bad. He seems like a nice man, I wish he would.
You’re in Denver, too!
I keep hearing great things about Biker Jim’s food—several in my office were early adopters.
I haven’t been because I, like you, can’t seem to get over the “waiting 15 minutes for food that comes from a cart” aspect of it all.
I’m sure it’s delicious, and there is a great story here. It’s simply more trouble than it should be.
Ah but Sonia, your nice Russian is telling his story. His life is not wrapped up with made to order fried onions dressing exotic dog flavors.
For me, there’s something reassuring about a product and a service that just is what it is – the wheezing mailman versus the tanned athlete from FedEx; or the regular British pub not the nouveau, self-advertising “Dog & iPod”. We’re not all marketing superheroes and – obviously since you choose differently – we don’t want our entire lives to be told via a series of Disneyfied transactions. Sometimes I just want a dog from a pleasant Russian who has more interesting things to tell me. Pray he doesn’t discover the Borscht & Vodka Dog. I like his story.
Sure, everybody tells a story. And sure, James and some others like the Russian guy’s story (and/or shorter line). But which story gets retold?
Maybe we can all feel good about both storytellers if we assume that the Russian guy gets as much business and conversation as he wants, and Biker Jim has more capacity and need to add flavor to the transaction.
Not to lose the point though – Russian hot dog guy could have more business by telling a more repeatable story.
I’m getting hungry.
Hey there office guy, and gal. Thanks for noticing the two carts outside your window. You may not know that there are actually two Russian guys that work that cart across from me. They switch off every other week. The one guy is as nice as you would want to have a conversation with. We’ve traded Russian Chocolate for slices of my cheesecake. He’s needed rolls and is appreciative when I can lend him a pack. He is really a sweet guy, an avid skier and also a tennis pro that teaches somewhere, I’m not sure where. This guy genuinely likes people and enjoys the job. The other guy has never said one word to me in the almost two years I’ve been on the street. As for waiting 15 minutes to grab a dog, all I can say is I’m glad not everyone shares your opinion. You never know sometimes a queue social can be fun.
Thanks again,
Jim
Hey, too cool! Thanks for swinging by.
I know exactly which is which–the nice Russian guy is a little shy, but friendly when you get him to warm up a little.
And my not wanting to wait in line is definitely a sign of my addiction to my desk, not a good thing but there you have it.
How awesome that the guy posted a comment. Interesting part of the story though, that he looks for stuff about himself online. He has a logo that could be a tattoo. He’s shiny. This isn’t judgement against, just observation. Both are great studies in opposition, but both are just people living their lives authentically.
One likes to tell a story, one that’s repeatable. The other likes to live a story you need to live with him and can’t easily spread. I don’t think it’s fair to use the word “worth” to characterize the stories. If the Russians told their story in a blog-postable way, they wouldn’t be who they are.
Peace.
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could you tell me what font is used for the words “Biker Jim’s”?