The Day the Custard Shop Burned Down
The last physical remains of my old job are gone for good
To say I was excited to start my first job out of college would be an understatement. I was ecstatic. At just 21 years old, I felt like I’d made it. My whole career as a journalist was just waiting to unfold.
I had just been hired as an editorial assistant at Discover magazine, a publication I read growing up and revered as a budding science writer. Despite the fact that Discover is a national publication, it’s not based in New York City, Los Angeles, or Chicago — or any major U.S. city, for that matter. In 2019, when I was hired, the magazine’s headquarters were in Waukesha, Wisconsin.
If you’re not from the Badger State, you’re probably wondering, where the hell is Waukesha? What’s even there? and How do you even say that name?
Waukesha (pronounced WAW-ki-shaw) is 20 minutes west of Milwaukee — 40 during rush hour — and is technically its own city but feels like a suburb. You can’t get anywhere safely without a car unless you’re downtown (or if you’re on a designated hiking trail). A lot of people live on the edge of Waukesha or in neighboring Brookfield and commute into Milwaukee for work. Most others hold jobs in unremarkable office parks or factories in Waukesha county.
The Discover offices were in one of the many suburban, corporate buildings in Waukesha. We were under the leadership of the now-defunct Kalmbach Media, which also oversaw a bunch of hobby magazines like Trains, Model Railroader, Bead and Button, and Finescale Modeler. When I worked there, the only other science title in the building was Astronomy.
I thought little of the job’s location when I first took it. I was just happy to be employed in a editorial role and also to have an excuse to leave Milwaukee, which was wearing me down after four years of college.
I rented an apartment in Waukesha, down the street from my new job, with plans to walk there every day. (That was before I realized I’d have to cross a six-lane highway and walk on the side of the road for the bulk of the 20-minute commute.) My location also put me a short walk/drive away from a few places I’d see almost every day: Kwik Trip, Target, a luxury car dealership, and Oscar’s Frozen Custard.
Oscar’s was not the kind of place I’d go to on my own. Not that I thought it was gonna be bad, but I’m just not a custard fiend. Frozen custard is a very Wisconsin thing, and since I grew up in Michigan, I was more accustomed to ice cream. So if I was going to get a sweet treat, I’d go for ice cream first.
But it was thanks to my Discover colleagues that I actually did set foot in Oscar’s waaay more than a few times. Every Friday, one of us on our tiny editorial team (roughly 10 people, and then fewer after several rounds of layoffs) would message the group in Slack around lunchtime. “Oscar’s, anyone?” Usually three to five of us would reply, “yes please!!” and we’d set up a time to walk down the street for lunch.
Oscar’s wasn’t just a custard place — they had a full lunch menu as well. Things like burgers, chicken sandwiches, patty melts, hot dogs, salads, chicken strips, and fries. Basically an abridged diner menu.
My go-to order was a crispy chicken sandwich, fries, and a small cup of custard (usually something with chocolate in it). If I wasn’t feeling a full sandwich, I’d get chicken strips (which were VERY good).
After everyone ordered their food, we’d usually sit outside as a group, at a picnic table at the edge of the parking lot next to a grove of pine trees. The restaurant was right next to the freeway entrance, so I’d frequently find myself watching the cars speed down the road as I ate. When it was cold we’d sit inside or bring our food back to the office, which was decidedly less fun.
The Friday Oscar’s ritual became a huge part of my time at Discover. It was something many of us looked forward to every week. Not just for the food, but because it gave us a chance to get out of our soulless, half-empty office and spend some time together.
When work got frustrating or exciting, we had a designated time and place where we could process everything that was going on. Not every Friday lunch discussion revolved around work, but many did. I also had a chance to get to know my colleagues better than I probably would have while bonding over sandwiches and custard.
Even during Covid, when I was primarily working from home, I’d sometimes drive down to Oscar’s on my lunch break and grab a sandwich to take back to my desk. The ritual became so ingrained in my weekly schedule that it felt important to honor it, even if I was the only one going.
When I quit my job at Discover in 2021, one of my colleagues came with me for a final Oscar’s trip as a send-off. It was a random Friday in May, and I remember eating chicken tenders as we talked about work and life and sat at the picnic table by the big pine trees. I’d mostly cleaned out my office and was thinking ahead to the next chapter of my career. One last trip to Oscar’s was the perfect way to close the door on what I’d leave behind.
Since that last visit 3.5 years ago, I have rarely thought about Oscar’s. I don’t even live in Waukesha anymore, and have few reasons to go back and visit.
But last week, one of my Discover friends texted me with some bad news. Oscar’s caught on fire.
It was so bad that the building partially burned down, and then the flames reignited and took the rest of the structure down with it. The restaurant was a complete loss, and it’s now permanently closed.
The place we used to spend almost every Friday afternoon at is now gone forever. I studied the news clips of the building, where reporters stood outside as firefighters dumped water on the roof. Most notable was Oscar’s signature red awning, now slumped beyond recognition. It felt like seeing a friend’s familiar face disfigured after an accident.
I didn’t expect to feel such a sense of loss when I saw photos of the wreckage. Not sad exactly, but a mix of shock and melancholy. The good news is that no one was in the building when it burned. But the fact still stands that no one will ever set foot in that space again.
This blaze happened at a somewhat coincidental time, too. Just a few months ago, Kalmbach Media sold the last of its publications and shut down for good. I’m not sure what’s become of their behemoth, suburban office, but I don’t think anyone works there anymore. Discover still exists, and was bought by a company called LabX Media Group, which owns several other science publications like IFLScience and The Scientist. But the physical place I spent so much time working in after college is gone now.
I was talking with another Discover friend about Oscar’s last Friday. “It’s kind of the end of an era, isn’t it?” he said. I hadn’t made that connection at the time, but it’s true. The door to our past is officially closed. The universe sealed it off and threw away the key.
Obviously I still have those memories to look back on, but it’s weird that I can’t even get my regular order at my old Oscar’s when I’m in town anymore. (Thankfully the restaurant has two other locations, though. If you’re in the MKE area, I’d recommend stopping by to pay them some support.)
One thing that has outlived the loss of the restaurant, though: my newfound love for frozen custard. These days we go to Culver’s because its closer to home. But I don’t think I would be as excited about all the different flavors if it weren’t for all my fond memories at Oscar’s.
And, of course, the friendships that came out of my time at Discover were in large part due to our Friday lunches. It’s cheesy to admit, but if it weren’t for Oscar’s, I probably wouldn’t have built such lasting connections. There’s nothing that bonds people faster than a sandwich, a sweet treat, and a place to gossip … or something like that.
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I agree that nothing creates friendships at work like going out to lunch together. In the heyday of my old customer, back when the office was booming, a bunch of us used to go out to the Detroit Burger Bar in the Oxford area on Tuesdays. It was super fun. Great memories.
The whole “I live within walking distance of my workplace/grocery/convenience store but there is no walkable infrastructure in my city to support a pedestrian life” is so…uniquely American in the most abject way lol.
That being said, what a sweet ode to a bygone era through this custard shop. Thanks for writing!