The Burger Shop Summit
The air conditioning hummed overhead as the
Thompson family gathered around
their usual table at Burger Haven,
the spot where all negotiations had taken place since Uncle Gary’s divorce.
Today, however, felt different.
Different in that unsettling way that only happens when someone brings
a spreadsheet to a casual Friday lunch.
“Dad,” Sarah whispered through clenched teeth, “we’re supposed to be having burgers.
Why is there a projector?”
Robert Thompson sat at the head of the table like he owned it because in this family,
he did. His PowerPoint slides had already been projected onto a whiteboard
they’d somehow found hanging in the back corner.
He’d taken down the previous owner’s motivational poster about
“Making Every Customer Smile”
and replaced it with what Sarah now called
“The Apocalypse Agenda.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Robert said smoothly,
his fingers flying across his iPad to advance to slide four.
“I just needed more screen real estate.”
His son Tyler rolled his eyes so hard one thought he might fall backward
into the milkshakes on the floor.
His daughter Mia was already scrolling through her phone,
probably Googling how to escape without seeming rude.
The baby, Liam, had somehow managed to open a ketchup packet and
was now conducting an unauthorized science experiment with mustard.
“Let’s get this out of the way,” Robert said, clicking to reveal his master plan.
“I’ve been researching family reunions, financial planning,
and… innovative dining solutions.”
Tyler leaned forward. “Wait, what does ‘innovative dining solutions’ mean?”
Robert beamed with parental pride.
“I mean I found this incredible app that lets you order food
from three different restaurants simultaneously
while watching movies on the screen. But first ”
He paused dramatically and swiped to a slide showing a flowchart of family dynamics.
” we need to address the elephant in the room. Or rather, the kitchen in the room.”
The projector zoomed in on a photo of Burger Haven’s kitchen.
The employees were wearing aprons that said things like
“I ♥ Grease” and “Burger Chef 2018-2025.” Robert’s finger pointed
to a particularly grimy-looking fryer station.
“My research,” he continued, “suggests we could… optimize our dining experience
by having family members work in the kitchen on a rotating schedule.
It builds character! Teamwork!”
Mia raised her hand. “Dad, are you serious? Last time you said something about
‘building character,’ you made me write 500 essays before I was allowed to watch TV.”
“It’s been four years since then,” Robert insisted.
“And it turned out that those essays were actually quite well-researched!”
Tyler groaned and pulled a napkin from his chair,
covering his laptop screen with grease from a nearby fryer.
“We’re not here to work. We’re here for burgers.”
Robert sighed dramatically, as if he’d been waiting all day for this moment.
Then he swiped again. The whiteboard now displayed: A live-streamed feed of Burger Haven’s kitchen.
Tyler and Mia stared at it simultaneously. Sarah caught her breath.
Liam stopped ketchuping his plate and pointed excitedly.
“Whoa,” Tyler said, “that’s… actually pretty cool.”
Robert smiled triumphantly. “See? I was right to bring the projector!
Now everyone can see what happens behind the scenes while we eat our burgers!
We’re not just customers anymore we’re stakeholders!”
Sarah looked at Robert, then at Tyler and Mia. Then she slowly pulled out her phone.
“Dad,” she said quietly, “why does your PowerPoint say that you want to acquire Burger Haven?”
The family collectively froze mid-bite into their quarter-pounders.
The projector flickered as Robert tried to swipe away to his next slide,
but it was too late.
The whiteboard now displayed a company logo with an arrow circling
the Thompson name like a predator stalking its prey.
Tyler’s eyes widened. “Oh crap.”