When the government shutters, most federal employees wait it out in silence. Isaac Stein, however, took to the streets — with a grill, a grin, and a dream wrapped in a bun.
By weekday, Stein is a 31-year-old attorney for the Internal Revenue Service, the kind of mind that untangles retirement plan regulations in a quiet Washington office. But when the shutdown sent him home without work, he traded his desk for a hot dog cart he cheekily calls “SHYSTERS” — complete with a slogan that could only come from a lawyer: “The Only Honest Ripoff in D.C.”
Each afternoon, Stein appears near a Metro stop and a Harris Teeter, dressed not like a street vendor but like the lawyer he is — crisp suit, pressed shirt, tie knotted tight — serving hot dogs, Moon Pies, and RC Cola with the composure of someone presenting a closing argument.
“This was supposed to be a weekend hobby,” he admits, flipping buns like case files. “Now it’s a full-time art project.”
The stand, equal parts food venture and performance piece, took shape from a childhood memory — the thrill of selling snacks at his school’s basketball game while everyone else watched the score. That early rush never left him.
“People talk about the game,” he says. “I talk about mustard.”
His menu is simple but deliberate: steamed Hebrew National dogs topped with spicy brown mustard and sauerkraut — the “Correct Hot Dog,” as his board declares — plus nostalgic snacks that speak to regional loyalty. Southerners smile at the sight of RC Cola and Moon Pies; locals bring their dogs for complimentary bone-shaped treats. Anyone who can recite the history of the RC Cola–Moon Pie pairing gets a nickel off.
Every detail is steeped in irony. The name SHYSTERS plays on the slang for shady lawyers, a nod to Stein’s own profession — and an inside joke he’s happy to explain between orders. “It’s performance art,” he says with a laugh. “Part commentary, part commerce.”
Operating the cart wasn’t just a whim. Stein dove into the bureaucracy with the same diligence he brings to the IRS — reading 150 pages of regulations, securing every permit, inspection, and registration needed to run his mini-empire. “Everything’s done by the book,” he insists, the grin suggesting he knows how absurdly poetic that sounds coming from a tax attorney.
Now open seven days a week, SHYSTERS draws a mix of construction crews, federal staffers, and remote workers craving fresh air — and perhaps a little satire with their lunch. For Stein, that human connection is the real reward.
“It’s like reading short stories,” he says. “Every person’s a vignette. You feel stitched into the city.”
When the shutdown lifts, Stein plans to return to his IRS desk, but SHYSTERS isn’t closing. The cart, like his humor, will stay open on weekends — serving up mustard, mockery, and a taste of rebellion, one “honest ripoff” at a time.
