Breakfast and lunch on Main Street, until three

That board at the top is yours. I typed it straight off the photo you put on Facebook on Monday July 21, down to the mustard. I did not write a word of it and I did not make up a price.

Here is the thing I would want to know if it were my shop. You rewrite that board every morning and you photograph it, and it goes to 2,100 people who follow you. But a photograph of handwriting is the one thing a phone cannot make bigger and Google cannot read at all. Somebody searching lunch in Brownsville at eleven o'clock gets nothing of what you actually cooked today.

That is the whole job. Same board, same words, as text, in a place anybody can find it. It takes about a minute a day.

I have left the street number off on purpose, and here is why. Google says 240 N Main St. Your Facebook page says 250 N Main St. One of the two is wrong and only you know which. The directions button above goes to the exact spot on the map either way, so nothing is broken, but one of those two is sending somebody to the wrong door.

Your Google listing has no website link on it. Google is showing an “Add website” button in the space where it would go. That is the field this page would fill, and it is the only reason I built it.

Nobody has claimed the profile yet. Google is still offering “Claim this business” to anyone who looks you up, which means the hours above, the address and the phone number are all sitting there without you holding the keys to them. Claiming it is free and it takes a few minutes.

277 reviews at 4.7 is a bigger number than most businesses in this valley will ever see, and the first one up there is somebody driving in from Sweet Home. That is not a review about coffee. That is a person telling you your sandwiches are worth a twenty minute drive.

You already photograph the board every morning, so the habit is there. It is the food that never gets its turn. A tray of cinnamon rolls before the morning goes. A pastrami cut in half. The soup. The room from the door with people in it. The front of the building from across Main Street so a stranger knows what they are looking for.

They should be yours. The phone in your pocket beats anything I would bring.