Local Business Website Woes
THUNDER BAY, ON — After decades of navigating restaurant sites that seem frozen in time, Thunder Bay residents are finally voicing their frustrations with local businesses refusing to update their websites. From decade-old menus to expired store hours, citizens say the city’s online landscape resembles a museum exhibit dedicated to “The Way Things Were.”
“I just wanted a burger,” fumed resident Greg Foster, who was shocked to discover his $7.99 patty from a local Thunder Bay restaurant actually cost $16.50. “Their site said 1996 prices, but it’s 2024 in the real world. The internet is supposed to lie in my favour.” Foster, who ended up paying 105% more than he budgeted, added, “At this point, I check a coin flip app to predict prices. It’s more reliable.”
Restaurant owners, however, seem unfazed. Ralph Peterman, owner of a popular local eatery, claims website updates are an unnecessary extravagance. “People used to come in and read the menu like normal human beings,” Peterman scoffed. “Updating the site? What am I, Google?” When asked why the website still lists fax numbers and AOL Canada contact info, Peterman shrugged. “You’ll live.”
Meanwhile, tech-savvy locals are desperately offering their services. Jack Thompson, a starving college student specializing in web development, has been pitching businesses an unbeatable deal. “I told them I’d revamp their entire website for the cost of one meal. Just one!” Thompson said, his eyes welling up at the thought of food. “I haven't eaten a real dinner in weeks. I live off ramen and dreams. They’re turning me down because they think it's a scam. The only scam here is being charged $16 for a ‘website special’ that’s extinct.”
As Thunder Bay’s digital anachronisms persist, the issue extends beyond dining. Shops list holiday sales from 2003, laundromats promise long-discontinued “$2 Tuesdays,” and one used car dealership is still advertising Y2K “End of the World” discounts.
City officials have considered creating a “Web Archiving Museum” to monetize the chaos. “We’ll brand it as a historical experience,” joked one council member. “People can see ‘artifacts’ like $1 coffee, and Ralph can finally feel like a pioneer.”
For now, locals remain resigned to their fate. “We might not have accurate info, but at least we’ve got character,” Foster admitted, begrudgingly pulling up a phone app to check the nearest restaurant’s hours. It crashed.