My wife and I were having a late afternoon snack in a grand, historic San Francisco restaurant perched on a cliff suspended over the crashing waves of the blue Pacific. As she sipped her wine and I drank my beer, an uninvited guest joined us at the table.

A paperclip-sized cockroach scurried from behind the cut glass candleholder, stepped gingerly over the placemat and stopped, Kafkaesque, in front of the drink specials as if pondering the selection.

My wife barely controlled her natural instinct to run screaming from the establishment.

I convinced her to stay just long enough for me to chug the rest of my beer. Luckily, I can drain a full Sammy in 8 seconds flat.

In the restaurant marketing business,cockroaches are the Kiss of Death. When la cucaracha made his presence known, the restaurant lost our patronage forever.

Did you know there is a similar Kiss of Death in Yellow Pages advertising?

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