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For the Elite, the rewards of composing daily, adjective-rich, multihundred-word-long restaurant reviews are much less clear. While some have tried to use their status as a platform for greater foodie glory, few have succeeded. Ed Uyeshima leveraged his membership into a travel writing gig at the San Francisco Examiner; New York Elite Chris Hansen parlayed his cult popularity into work at the somewhat influential midtown Manhattan lunch website midtownlunch.com. Last fall power reviewer Libby Rego earned a guest spot on Gordon Ramsey's reality show, Hell's Kitchen. And those are the success stories.
For others, the rewards are personal. San Francisco architect and amateur pickled meats expert Theodore Ordon-Yausi, 26, was tapped in 2010 after attending the "Elite Prom" as a plus-one. "My reviews are definitely read more now," says Ordon-Yaussi, who writes under the nom de plume The King of Pastrami. "I get more random messages from people I don't know. I have 20 new fans who follow my reviews." That can be invigorating. "I like to tell my friends that my opinion is important," says 29-year-old research scientist Kristin Patrick. "When I go into a restaurant, the owner says, 'You're here to write a review, aren't you?' I'll say, 'Don't worry, I'm Elite.'"
Yet with clout can come hubris. A recent fracas among Elite users in Los Angeles and Vancouver resulted in several account deletions. Houston Elite member Edgar V maintains a Web page of businesses he feels are "Evil and Must be Destroyed." And while this includes massive corporations such as Bank of America (BAC), it also lists Van's Chinese Seafood Restaurant in San Antonio—on whose Yelp page Edgar V's scathing review is listed first. And then there are persistent entitlement issues. This spring, Yelp's New York community manager sent a letter to Elites after a party at Club A Steakhouse turned into "abject terror." One waiter at the restaurant, the letter said, "was absolutely traumatized by the rabid ferocity with which certain guests attacked his plate of hors d'oeuvres." It wasn't the first time. "The staff at several events," read the dispatch, "has commented on the fact that occasionally some members of the Elite Squad at meals can be likened to an Animal Planet feeding frenzy."
The Elite Squad's greatest threat may be itself. As Yelp continues to develop its haut monde, Elites face a future in which their cult influence is being betrayed by their growing numbers. With Yelp pushing mobile device searches, which account for one-third of all searches on the site, the utility of the hyperbole-rich essays is also declining. For some, it's the end of an era—and time to get a more productive hobby. "On a personal level, I got what I needed out of it and moved on," says Christie Day-Gee, a Chicago real estate broker who relinquished her badge last year. Retired engineer Phil Anderson, a member of the 2005 inaugural class, agrees. "I still write reviews," he says, snapping a picture of some osso bucco at San Francisco's South Harbor Restaurant and uploading it for a future review. "Instead of a review a day, I do one a week." But Anderson, who also gave up the badge, is O.K. with that—at least sort of. "Life evolves," he says, "and you move on—to some degree."