Imagine a place with a single published online review. Imagine it reads only: ‘Too good to be true.’
Imagine it is a one-star review.
That place is ‘The Oasis,’ or, in some regions, ‘The Mirage,’ one of a series of franchise restaurants that exist only in the least likely conditions. One might stumble upon ‘The Oasis’ operating in a ghost town, its neon and chrome casting ghoulish shadows across the walls of abandoned buildings. It might be the only establishment left open in an otherwise dead mall, the better-days ambience creeping through the halls of the empty complex. A smaller franchise might stand, inexplicably, at the peak of a mountain. The corporation’s location finder lists at least one in the open sea, where no known island exists.
Ecologically speaking, ‘The Oasis’ is whatever the opposite of a parasite might be: it can exist only when nothing else is around. It thrives for lack of competition because it is universally expensive, poorly run, and drab. When there is any other option, ‘The Oasis’ loses out, but when there is no choice, ‘The Oasis’ is unbeatable.
It would be easy to be critical of the franchise owners and of the overall business model at play but, if you find yourself at the doors of ‘The Oasis,’ you might reflect on your own choices and on the path that brought you there.
–excerpt, Autumn by the Wayside
