Mac’s Mustique

Mac and I were being wooed by some of the home-owners on Mustique.  They wanted Mac’s Pizzeria, and had gone ahead and drawn plans for a restaurant before we had even been consulted.  Mac was enthusiastic, he was flattered that the Island of the rich and famous wanted his name on a restaurant. I was skeptical, there were many questions that had not been answered to my satisfaction, and the thought of adding a second restaurant to my crazy life was nuts.  Although Mac’s name would be on the restaurant it wasn’t Mac they wanted over on Mustique, it was ME.

Lord “something-or-other” (I can’t recall his name) came to Bequia with a contract, he was the Treasurer for the Mustique Company and was ready to go over the figures with us.  NOW I would get some answers!  As he read through the costs I wanted to shout “I told you so!”  If Mac had thought the restaurant was being handed to us on a silver platter he was now learning the hard facts, the list of monthly maintenance fees was lengthy.  We would have to pay for the upkeep of the power plant, the desalination plant, the wharf, the airport and roads, plus there was a rental fee of $80,000 per year for the building they had designed without our input.  Where I would be living had not been determined, but I would certainly have to pay rent for that as well.

As the Treasurer droned on I kept track with a calculator, and the sum per month just for maintenance was hefty.  Access to the mainland would be harder and cargo expenses higher.  The cost of a pizza at the new restaurant would have to be triple what I charged on Bequia, at LEAST triple, and although the homeowners and their guests were wealthy people there was a limit as to how much one could charge for a pizza!  Mac seemed oblivious to how much we would be paying per month, he kept nodding his head in agreement as the list of expenses grew.

“Just one small thing”, his Lordship said, “We have decided to leave the word PIZZA out of the restaurant’s name, the word Pizzeria is rather tacky isn’t it?”  Well, blow me down with a feather, I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.  I said, “Mac’s Pizzeria is what the home-owners say they want on Mustique, why would they want to change the name? That’s the name of the restaurant. What else would they call it?”  The Treasurer said, “they have decided to call it Mac’s Mustique.”  I rolled that little tongue-twister around in my mouth before I said, “say Mac’s Mustique three times in a row, it’s literally impossible to say. The name of the business is Mac’s Pizzeria, not Mac’s Mustique!”

If I thought the change of name was bad, the membership scheme blew me clean away. The treasurer said that the restaurant would be like a club house, all home-owners would be members and the membership would extend to those renting the houses.  Each house would pay a yearly membership fee (I believe the man said $400 EC per year), and this would entitle them to a table whether they were dining or not.  Once I got through the fuzzy layers of what he was saying I inquired how I would be able to take reservations from visiting yachts if I had to keep the tables available for restaurant members who might or might not come, and who might or might not dine?  The whole idea was preposterous!

His Lordship told me that the home-owners’ wives liked to go out in the evening, and they wanted to be able to go someplace where they would not be pestered. “Ah!” I said, “They don’t want to be pestered by locals!”  The man nodded his head. “So”, I said, “You want me to open a restaurant on Mustique where the riff-raff is kept out”.  Once again the man nodded, this was indeed what they wanted, a place where locals were not welcome. To my amazement I saw that Mac was nodding along with him, and at that point I lost my cool.  Turning to Mac I said, “What are you nodding your head about?  A local won’t be able to afford a pizza at the new place anyway, I’ll be forced to charge a fortune for a simple plain cheese pizza!  What you don’t seem to realize is that you, Mac Simmons, will not be welcome in your new restaurant!”  The treasurer hastened to correct me saying, “Oh, we aren’t talking about people of Mac’s caliber!” to which I replied, “Well where do we draw the line? If you want to open a restaurant on Mustique that openly discourages local patrons you are talking to the wrong person. Count me out!”

Mac’s Mustique never happened, and Mac never really forgave me for refusing to sign the contract.  He was so flattered that his brain-child was wanted by the rich and famous that he couldn’t see what a dreadful mistake it would have been.