Jim Nantz wrote a whole big thing for Golf Digest, which you can read here. Like all the great storytellers, he knows how to set a scene and really captivate an audience: by using the narrative power of total insanity. He starts with a standard—"Hello, Friends"—and flashes a little self-deprecation and then out of nowhere you are reading the craziest thing you've ever read. Jim Nantz was so concerned about wasting 48 hours per year sending back toast at breakfast because it was insufficiently burnt that his wife made him a special laminated card he could show the waitstaff so they'd know just how burnt he liked his toast.How Jim Nantz likes his toast: burnt. https://t.co/dOUAE5owGM pic.twitter.com/MYDEn7MxpD
— Bryan Curtis (@curtisbeast) March 29, 2016
Friends, I am literally reeling in my chair reading this. And I've read it probably 17 times. There's so much! First the strange description of the differences in toast—limp and tan, black and scary—I mean, Jim, who talks about toast like this?! It's both vaguely racist and faintly pornographic at the same time, and yet it is also about toast. Also, Jim Nantz has done the fucking math on how much this limp and tan toast has been costing him per year. How much time has he spent thinking about the amount of time he's wasted sending back toast? Which brings us to Courtney, his poor wife. It's undeniable that she loves Jim, which is something I suppose.Imagine the steps involved here:I'm a breakfast guy: three eggs scrambled, with bacon and wheat toast, burnt. The problem is, it never came back burnt. For years it would arrive limp and tan, which brought breakfast to a standstill when I sent the toast back. It was costing me 10 minutes a day, which, multiplied by six days a week, is four hours a month. That's 48 hours—two full days—per year. My friends, time is currency. My wife, Courtney, got tired of hearing me complain about it. She found a photograph on the Internet of a kitchen toaster ejecting two slices of burnt toast. She minimized it, printed it out and had it laminated. She insisted I put it in my wallet. When I order, I present the photo to my server. I get some strange looks, but I can assure you, the toast now arrives black and scary, just the way I like it.
- Google image search for "burnt toast."
- Correcting, Google image search for "burnt toast black scary."
- Figuring out how to save image to the hard drive.
- Re-sizes image so that it fits in one's wallet.
- Prints.
- Forgot that they ran out of printer ink last week.
- Goes to Staples, buys ink.
- Prints out picture.
- Fucking laminates it.
- Gives it to Jim for Easter.