Ideally, one should be passionate about their career. For the record, I have never met a passionate technical writer. Nor would I want to. I mean, that sounds like the most annoying person ever.

I am passionate about hiking. Sometimes I think: How cool if I could hike for a living! And not as, like, a sherpa! Maybe people would pay me to lead them on hikes. I could read maps, exude enthusiasm, and point out obvious things in nature. “Look, it’s a mushroom! That’s called a, um, white mushroom.”

Mr. Pinault dreams of opening a restaurant – simple yet elegant, French yet affordable, casual yet French. For several years, I championed the idea of a fondue restaurant in a cosmopolitan location. Then we discovered that urban areas are brimming with fondue establishments, and thanks to a chain called The Melting Pot, even upper-middle class suburbs like Natick can dine on fondue for roughly $50 per person.

But what about fondue for the masses? In lower middle-class rural and suburban areas, casual sit-down restaurants are a popular social activity, and since all foodstuffs are a slight variation on the same tasteless, greasy, deep-fried thing, a novel presentation is appreciated. It won’t be classic Gruyere and Emmenthaler Swiss fondue, but given the target market, it wouldn’t have to be. We’re talking Velveeta fondues with bread, oil fondues with hot dogs, chocolate fondues with twinkies and marshmallows. $8/head for basic, $12/head for deluxe, and did I mention the waitresses and waiters are all (nonsensically) wearing Lederhosen?

It would make a killing, I tell you. But my passion in this venture was always based solely on the strength of being able to call the restaurant Fundue. Unfortunately, a quick Google search revealed that Fundue is trademarked by a desktop USB fondue set (“Looking to expand your culinary sophistication without leaving your cube?”). Wow. That’s so… disgusting.

For some reason, my alternative names (Fon-fun, Forky’s, The Fat Pot, Pot Belly) just don’t sustain my passion. I mean, even white trash wouldn’t eat at a fondue restaurant called Forky’s.