“You young folks and your weird dating concepts,” my father, William Lee, said with an amused smirk. “I don’t know why the lot of you are opposed to meeting people the good old-fashioned way.”
My dad, who could sometimes fall under the category of traditionalist, was currently in the middle of explaining to me and my best friend, Megan Riley, why the youth of today struggled with finding lasting relationships. The three of us were standing in the now empty dining room of Ho-Lee Noodle House, our family restaurant and my current place of employment.
As he went about romanticizing “the good ole days,” he looked rather official in his black pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, and polished dress shoes. Fresh from showing a luxury home in Pepper Pike, he’d stopped by to see what shenanigans I was up to.
And who am I? I’m Lana Lee, his youngest daughter, and manager for this fine Asian establishment. At the moment, you could also add “annoyed” to the list of descriptors.
From time to time, my dad liked to razz me about generational differences. He found it funny—and sometimes I did too—but now was not one of those moments.
“Because Dad, people like action and spice in their life,” I replied in defense of the speed dating event we were going to host. Granted, it wasn’t a conventional setting for something like this, but Megan had “called in a favor.”
Over the course of the summer and fall months, the bar where she worked—the Zodiac—had started hosting speed dating events on an almost weekly basis. It brought them a surge of business, and that outcome was something I was highly interested in at the moment. I figured my parents would also be more than happy to cash in on that possibility. Unfortunately, my dad wasn’t totally sold on the idea. His main concerns lay with the fact that online dating was now all the rage, and he didn’t hold out much hope that people would really shell out the money to come to an event like this.
I—despite my original protests—thought it was an excellent way to drum up extra business and knew the potential that it held. After all, I had witnessed a speed dating event in action.
There was an admission to get in, so it was an automatic moneymaker. Along with the entry cost, we provided a sampling of appetizers and beverages to all of the participants. If they happened to want meals to go, or shimmy off to a private booth with their newfound honey and a full-sized dinner, who was I to stand in their way? I saw dollar signs, and dollar signs were what we needed after the slower months of business we’d experienced.
We were nearing the holiday season, yes, but it never hurt to end the year on an even greater note than anticipated. Plus, I was thinking that if I could manage it, I’d like to give our small staff of employees a holiday bonus. It probably wouldn’t be as much as I’d like to give them, but at least it would be something. Without question, it was well deserved. We’d seen a lot of challenges this year, both on personal and professional levels, and in my book, everyone had earned a little extra padding in their pockets.
“Now I’m no fuddy-duddy”—my dad smoothed his lapel—“but to me this seems like a wackadoo idea. What happened to the days when men picked women up for a proper date and went to dinner … for longer than five minutes? What can you really learn about anybody in five minutes anyways?”
Megan’s hazel eyes lit up, accepting the challenge my father presented. She opened her mouth to provide a counter argument, but before she could say anything, I held up my index finger. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
Clearing my throat dramatically and putting on my best smile, I said, “Hi, my name’s Lana Lee. I’m twenty-eight years old—half Taiwanese, half English—live with my best friend, and manage my family’s restaurant. I enjoy lots of browsing in the bookstore, I’m a dog person through and through, and I’ve never met a doughnut I didn’t like. And as we can all see; I enjoy dyeing my hair various colors of the rainbow.” I pointed to my angled bob that now included a mermaid ombré of color. The teal, blue, and purple dyes exposed themselves beneath the contrast of my naturally black hair. It was my most vibrant hair to date.
My dad pursed his lips, but I saw the amusement hiding in his eyes.
I kept going. “I’m a lover of all music, but I prefer rock. I enjoy going to the movies, but hate the butter they use on the popcorn. My ideal first date would be getting coffee or drinks with a chance of dinner.”
My dad crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you finished?”
“Has it been two and a half minutes?” I shot back.
Megan chuckled. “You should have added that we always bring our own snacks to the movies. Guys like a woman that plans ahead.”
“This is true … I always bring my big purse,” I said with a grin.
My dad inhaled deeply, which I registered as him pulling together all his patience. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea, but your mother is excited about the prospect of the business it will bring in.” He sucked in a breath. “I wouldn’t want to rain on her parade.”
“Exactly, Papa Lee,” Megan replied. Her ruby-painted lips turned up in a confident smile. “Trust me when I say that the bar is at full capacity when we host one of these events. And we’ve covered the Zodiac in flyers about moving the evening here. People were really excited about a change in venue.”
“Yeah, and it’s been a long time since we’ve seen this place filled to the brim,” I added.
The three of us took a moment to examine the restaurant. I don’t know what the other two were thinking, but I was thinking about the crazy things that had happened since I began working for my parents on a full-time basis. There was the whole mess of being held at gunpoint just past booth number six, or the awkward conversations I had with witnesses and suspects at table eight, and meetings with a PI at lucky number seven.
Behind those memories were fonder ones. But they were further in the past and a little harder to grab on to. I’d grown up in this restaurant and it was an enormous piece of my childhood. I’d played in the dining room—much to my mother’s dismay—skipping and weaving between tables just to pounce on the swinging kitchen doors and plant myself in the employee lounge. When I say “lounge,” I use the term loosely. It’s really a small, cluttered back room with enough space for an old couch, an even older TV, and a dinette table for two. How many days had I sat in that back room, watching cartoons on Saturday mornings while my parents worked in the restaurant? Or struggled with my math homework after school? By the way, Asians automatically being good at math is a myth … I’m proof of that.
“There she goes off in la-la land again,” Megan teased, giving my arm a nudge. “You care to join us?”
I shook my head, loosening the grips of memory lane. “Yeah, sorry, I’m here. Just thinking about all this restaurant has seen in the past thirty-odd years.”
My dad nodded. “It’s been an adventure, kid, that’s for sure.
“Dad, I need you to be okay with this, all right? Trust me a little bit.”
“Well, as they say, you’re the boss,” my dad replied. “I guess it’ll be fine, right? I mean, what do I know about modern dating anyways?”
I smiled at him. “It’s going to be great. I promise.”
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