MIO SUSHI MARKETING LESSON OF LOVE

BoomerPDX Blogger and plate of Mt. Fuji. The blogger is the one wearing glasses. Image via DG Studios

More often than not, a restaurant review helps you decide where not to go.

If the food is great and the service superb, do you really want to go there? It sounds more like an expense account place for out of towners.

A glowing review eliminates the hit and miss of driving around until you find a place that looks right for the night.

Would you rather be a food cruiser, or go for the sure thing?

The first time I went to Mio Sushi was a cruise.

My kids go so often they know the staff. They can call an order and the staff recognizes their voices.

They said that’s where my wife’s birthday dinner would be.

Who doesn’t like take charge people? I was glad they remembered their mother’s birthday, but they added one of her favorite things: adventure eating. And one more: Saki bombs.

Mio Sushi was so fun that night it became the go-to stop for birthdays, celebrations, and memorials.

After writing Midsummer Night’s Sushi after another birthday dinner, and sending the link to the theater company and Mio Sushi, a few months passed.

The kids said the staff asked when the boomerpdx blogger was coming back every time they went in.

This is when Mio Sushi marketing lesson happened.

Shakespeare in the Beaverton Round, or Central Park, it’s still Shakespeare outdoors. I think Joseph Papp would approve.

Mr. Papp may have brought theater to more people than any other producer in history, but did he include sushi?

That was the beauty of Midsummer Night’s Sushi.

The night the birthday group returned to Mio Sushi was tinged with sorrow. We’d lost one of our loved ones earlier in the day and showed up a little shocky.

Our Grandy loved being with her family and joining in nights out. She carried us over good times and bad. We picked each other up when we were down.

Her spirit was the helium that lifted us all.

Since her grand kids had cracked the sushi code, they knew what to order for her.

On this night I lagged back while everyone else filed in. You miss people at odd times when they’re gone, and this was one of them: The first time to Mio Sushi without Grandy.

The grieving process is different for each person, each situation, and this was no different.

This blogger was little choked up, watching the family walk ahead, until I caught up with them.

Once in the main room, the Mio Sushi marketing lesson of love took over. The staff who knew my kids stepped in with hugs. Handshakes and thanks from the chefs topped it off.

I thought of Grandy, who loved the Red Carpet, who would have been showered that night.

Then the real tear jerker, a thank you from Mio Sushi that looked like a plate of Mt. Fuji rolls.

If it looks like someone squinting back tears up top, they were tears of happiness and joy for one of life’s sweet ironies: remembrance and celebration.

That night we sat in the empty chair formation.