Back in the 20th century, I worked at a hockey pant factory in Canada for one summer. Or, right next to the factory, because I, being a business graduate, almost, I was sitting in the office. I also happened to be boarding with the boss.

One afternoon, the boss packed his extended family, that being his wife, two kids and myself, into their van, and drove up to the cottage country in northern Ontario to meet up with the company lawyer in a casual setting.

Turned out, the lawyer had just bought or sold (or was the lawyer of, I really can’t remember) the Oshawa Generals, the Canadian junior hockey team. In fact, the hottest Canadian (junior) hockey team because a certain Eric Lindros was playing there, and because they had just won the Memorial Cup, the Canadian championship, that is.

Note: That has nothing to do with what I’m about to say now, but I just wanted to get it in somewhere. Didn’t really fit in the polar bear story, or the rink of dreams entry.

While we were having dinner at the cottage, the host asked my boss for his business card. He didn’t have one because he was just on a Sunday cruise in the cottage country. The lawyer confronted him:

“Aren’t you proud of your company?”

I thought about that yesterday when I saw that on the receipt for my cappuccino, it said:

“Cooffehouse by George”.