For a chain, the Pewter Pot resonated with personality. With waitresses dressed in Revolution era dresses, colonial theme wallpaper, post and beam ceilings and the best muffins and New England clam chowder on earth, the Pewter Pot felt like a "townie place" for the George Washington set. I loved the Arlington, Lexington and Burlington locations. The Franklin burgers were phenomenal!
When graduating journalism school with seemingly no future at all, I inquired about a job in the Pewter Pot management trainee program. Some slick, aggressive guy with a pencil-thin mustache told me that working at the Pewter Pot was my future. He stated the usual pep rally stuff like it's hard work and you'll struggle at times, but, ultimately, that I would love working there 65 hours a week at an anemic salary.
It was then and there that I decided to stick with journalism and just be a customer at the Pewter Pot. I soon secured a job at a local newspaper -- not only editing the paper at 10K a year with no benefits, but also delivering it in my Ford Escort to the local stores. Better career days eventually evolved, but sometimes I wonder what life would have been like working at the Pewter Pot. Ultimately, I often came to the conclusion that it was a nice to place to visit, but not to live there!