Minnesota Pyramid Scheme

Last Updated on August 16, 2022 by Adam Watts

The Minnesota pyramid scheme sounded like a job interview at first. “I’m a good communicator because…” “I work well both alone and as a team…” “I graduated three years ago but I’ve demonstrated the 17 years of requisite experience by working 4 jobs and training myself to only need 8 minutes of sleep a day.”

We were in Lola’s Lakehouse, a restaurant on the shore of Lake Waconia, Minnesota. It was a rainy day — in fact hail was pelting the wooden panels of the verandah outside — and we’d found this place for brunch 45 minutes outside of Minneapolis. There was an actual fire in an actual fireplace. The ceiling was timber beams. And golly gosh, there was even a row of stuffed animal heads on the walls.

We ordered a walleye sandwich with chips and a bowl of warming clam chowder. We talked and planned the days ahead, chatted about the food, mused on places we’d like to live and not live, then immediately shushed ourselves when the phone call behind us took an interesting turn.

“So I get paid when I refer my first person? — Uh huh, right, right. — Okay. — And other people make lots of money doing this? — Great! Any extra income we get is appreciated. Kids aren’t going to feed themselves, y’know. — Yes, I’d love to get started. — Great! — Thanks, bu-bye. — Bye now. — See ya. — Goodbye.”

I shared a look, a raised eyebrow, and then a grin with my better half.

Then the other person at the table behind us said, “Sounds like it went well. Do you want to try the product?”

“Absolutely!”

“Okay, are you free this afternoon? I’ll bring the products round to your house and we’ll take it from there.”

And with that they left. Our entertaining lunch listening to a Minnesota pyramid scheme was over. Oh, Minnesota, you so silly.

Then we ordered dessert because the hail was still pounding the ground outside, and this was vacation, and we had no better place to be.

For more stories from restaurants, check out: A Fight with a Seafood Platter.