Just about every Saturday morning, early, I take Abraham to Dave’s to do the weekly grocery shopping. Just about every Saturday morning, Dave himself is there, and never fails to greet the kid and I with a nice word and a smile. It isn’t really Dave Saltzman in the flesh [that would be gross]. The manager just happens to be named Dave. I’m pretty sure he recognizes me, since not very many people are at the grocery store on a regular basis before 9am on the weekend. I like the guy.
Though he’s not the Dave, I think he probably feels as if the store is his, even more so than other managers because it carries his name. There’s no logic behind that kind of feeling, but I can tell that this Dave is proud to run his store well, and happy to be feeding families in this neck of the woods.
Cleveland is a small-town city.