The Evidence Left Behind

It was Sunday and I was irritated that I had to work. “Had” being the word that was driving the irritation because no one was making me work. I wasn’t on a schedule. No one expected me to show up. The only person that knew I was even in town was my General Manager Cindi, and she was off that Sunday. Most GM’s were. All Directors were, and usually I was among them.

But that day I had to.

The original intent of my visit was simple, sit with my Kitchen Manager and find out what was going on with Duane. He’d been recently promoted and was still grappling with his new responsibilities. His learning curve to management systems and processes were taking longer than we’d anticipated, he was technology adverse to say the least. More concerning, he wasn’t showing the maturity or self-application to the new role I’d expected either. I had consistent reports of him leaving early, coming in late, blaming others, not asking for help, not communicating with his team or peers.

The driving force behind that “had” to work on that Sunday was because I felt culpable for Duane’s performance. He wasn’t my direct report, but I’d known Duane a long time. He’d been an anchor on my line cook team at a previous employer. In the time since we’d worked together, I heard he’d been selected for the New Store Opening team, performed well enough to be promoted to kitchen manager, but unfortunately, they’d recently closed that location. Several months prior, I’d reached out to Duane and offered him to join Cindi’s team as an hourly line cook. I had a feeling that I’d eventually be needing backfill. I relied heavily on my prior relationship with Duane and the references of people I’d known still at the old company, without validating it myself and stuck Cindi and my Hampton with someone who wasn’t ready. Worse, I felt like I’d put Duane in a position where he couldn’t succeed.

This had been going on long enough and I needed to intervene. I’d been working with Cindi on this for a while remotely while my other units had been commanding more of my physical time and energy. I was in the midst of orchestrating a switch of three key GM’s, trading a couple of my rockstar GM’s out to other regions, replacing them with a couple new guys and playing musical chairs with another GM. Plus we were adding three new players to the team at the lower ranks, and transferring a fourth. Not to mention, it was party season. We were in the thick of holiday events and I hadn’t yet added a sales manager to the squad so much of that fell on my shoulders. I had marketing partnerships with Georgetown Basketball and Monumental Sports in D.C. (fresh off a Stanley Cup winning season for the Caps), and I was finally turning the corner in that dreaded Capital One arena unit that had plagued our brand for so long. We were capitalizing on the many gamedays, and I’d been there for most of them.

I hadn’t been to Hampton in a while, so I felt guilty for neglecting Cindi. It was the same thing that had happened to me when I was the GM in Hampton. She was kicking so much ass and rarely needed any help. She had filled my shoes and then some. It was easy to keep in touch, and after six plus years working together, there was even a sort of telekinesis happening between us. One of us would think of an idea or solution, call the other, who would inevitably already be a page ahead, working on the same thing.

That’s one of the reasons I was more than a little bummed when I walked in the door. Even though I hadn’t been there in a while and I was carrying around the guilt, I had a great line of communication with Cindi. We talked a hundred times a day. Her results in most areas weren’t just amazing – Hampton was often leading the region and the entire brand in any way we could measure our business. She was growing new leaders and becoming a distinguished leader herself. Cindi was always my first GM in to support new changes, drive initiatives, and she was becoming the emotional leader in the market.

Our company had recently outsourced marketing to a firm that had “out of the box” ideas to say the least. In an effort to drive gift card sales, they had developed a “card trick” bartenders and servers would engage guests with, complete with branded playing cards. At the concept, I thought the idea was brilliant; it drives into that “local neighborhood bartender” DNA. In my mind I could see a silver haired bar keep, white sleeves rolled up, lean over the bar and say in a thick townie accent “So ya wanna see a card trick?”

The disconnect here is we employed mostly younger millennial and Gen Z bartenders where social engagement was more natural behind a screen. Engagement like this felt forced for many, at least at first. This was a radical and disruptive concept, as it had been designed to be in the first place. The marketing firm wanted to disrupt the guest experience with an interactive, engaging exchange. They’d underestimated the hesitation from the field. What we had was annoyed staff that half assed used props at the end of the dining experience to push gift cards with lackluster effort. It was a dismal role play in most regards.

Our leadership had recently asked to step up the promotion by having the cards out on the tables and bar tops before the guests arrived. The thought being if the guest picks it up and asks, “What are these for?” our crew would be forced into a conversation about gift cards.

I had not been in agreement with this promotion from the jump. I thought it was too “out of the box” at first. While I understood the origin of the idea, and I supported it, I thought we could have had some “warm-up” style promotions for teaching our service staff to engage more genuinely. I thought we were forcing this down the throats of our crew and guests, in a big part, because we were not coaching or teaching the “Why” behind the card trick. It felt like too much, too soon and not the right time.

At the end of the day, none of my disagreement mattered because my job was to be in alignment with the program. My entire purpose as a Director of Operations was to ensure that standards and expectations of our leadership were executed consistently at a high level.

Son that Sunday when I walked into my bar in Hampton, I had expected to see the cards on the tables.

Hampton was one of my best locations. They ALWAYS executed promotions with enthusiasm. Cindi was one of my best leaders. The management team communicated exceptionally well making this Duane thing so much more uncharacteristically outstanding. Hampton had been having success with selling gift cards every day. They were at the top of my spreadsheets.

I was ranting in my head, “I shouldn’t even be here.” I was wrapping up my most successful year ever. Cindi was a rockstar. The results had shown Hampton was selling gift cards. This was the one bar I would have bet money on to execute this program flawlessly every day. I was mad and confused. This was adding to my anxiety of having the sit-down with Duane.

I reeled myself back in.

It was about 45 minutes after opening. There were only two bar guests in the entire place. “Perhaps, maybe I am over reacting,” I thought.

The bartender was working on setting up, and I knew Hampton well enough to know that only about 6 hours before the closers had another crazy Saturday night. How we went from a bar with live music, drinks, shots, using elbows to part the crowd, and please-don’t-look-down-floors in the bathrooms on a Saturday night to Sunday brunch, mimosas, football, Sangria, and everything was CLEAN was nothing short of a miracle sometimes.

I popped my head in the back of the house and fist bumped my opening cooks. Duane was in the walk in completing the food order that needed to be in before the 2pm deadline, and more importantly, before we started getting our butts kicked for the 1pm games. In that moment, I decided I’d let Duane do his thing, and I was going to fix this forsaken card game issue in the front of the house before the rest of the staff and front of house manager came in.

Still irritated, I dropped my backpack in the office and grabbed a stack of playing cards that had been on the manager’s desk. There was a note from the closing manager reminding Duane to have the cards on the tables after the chairs were taken down. They had communicated, he just hadn’t done it. I’d certainly add that to my talking points when I sat down with him after lunch.

Scanning the dining room from the office door, I adjusted the music up just a notch. The TVs were set on football pre-game shows and we’d switch the audio up later to a game. For now, I wanted some energy for brunch. I set about the dining room, fanning out a “hand” of seven cards on each table, adjusting the table presentation, lining up tables, adjusting chairs, and making fine adjustments.

My actions about the dining room caught the attention of Josie the bartender. She’d been busy most of the morning setting up, running back and forth from the kitchen as she brought out fruit, juices, and stocked beers and wines. She’d had two guys at the bar, and from the best that I could tell they were not together. They were sitting on the same side of our rectangular island bar, about four seats away from each other. I’d heard Josie engage with both gentlemen as she took their orders. She was one of our best at making true, genuine connections and developing regular guests. As she noticed me placing the cards out on the tables around the dining room, both fellas at her bar were digging into their meals.

Spying me nervously, Josie grabbed some of the cards she had behind the bar. She knew what I was doing, and she’d clearly known the focus and expectations that surrounded this promotion. Josie was a smart, intuitive woman that paid attention to her managers and really bought into our brand. I can only imagine watching my body language, she was nervous and felt like she somehow at fault.

What happened next became serendipitous.

Josie did the damn thing.

With shining, perfect brilliance, she executed the card trick with the two guys at the bar. The whole thing played out as if we were filming a skit for the marketing firm that designed this ploy in the first place. I had a front row seat to this amazing scene.

Immediately the energy in the building changed, as if the sun had just come out after a storm. These two fellas at the bar started laughing and joking, no more silently chowing down their Sunday morning grub and Bloody Mary’s. One of the men even bought gift cards for the foremen in his office.

Josie looked at me as if she’d just pet a puppy, won the lottery, and seen her first rainbow. I was incredibly proud of her, but more so excited to see her face light up when she won.

I could not believe what I’d just seen. I came over to the bar and gave Josie a high five. We celebrated together and shared the experience with the servers who had just shown up to start their shifts. The excitement and buy-in was palpable. The crew was engaged.

I knew immediately what had just happened was special. I was a believer, and I needed to share the message. I grabbed my laptop and sat down, the energy flowing through my fingers. I banged out an email describing what I’d just seen. I was going to copy every manager in my region on this one. We were all going to get bit by the magic I’d just encountered.

I read it. Re-read it. “Man, this is awesome.” I decided I’d send to the other directors in my region too. Edited it. Added a bit. Re-read it again. “Damn this is good.” I added in the marketing team of course. “Why not?” I’ll send it to the other VP and west coast Directors as well. I read it again. Took a bit off. I get wordy with these things sometimes. “Yeahhhhh, this is REAL good.” I copied in the entire executive leadership team.

Then I got a little overconfident.

I added in the F-bomb.

I stared at it for a few minutes. I could hear my dad’s voice in my head, although he was no stranger to a well-placed F-bomb, he’d have me hung if he knew I was dropping one at work. In an e-mail. I took it out. No F-bomb. I considered there might be a few names on the distribution list that might not be so thrilled with the language. HR is copied. This has enough impact without the F-bomb.

“Fuck it.”

I added it back in. Bombs away.

Sent.

Team –

I can’t make this up…. Second day in a row that I walk into a unit that doesn’t have the cards on each table. I don’t know how or why that is even possible given all of the communication and direction – but that’s in another email. I want to tell you about what DID just happen.

The KM is opening today, and working on truck order. Fair enough, as there’s only two guests sitting at the bar and NFL games don’t begin for an hour or so. But there’s no cards out on the tables, he’s in the back, and I get 6 packs from the office and I begin putting 5 cards on every table all fanned out like in our picture without saying a word to the KM, the bartender, or the server – I planned on talking to them when I was done.

As I’m coming around the bar, still putting cards on tables, the bartender sees what I’m doing. So she gets some cards from behind the bar and she does the game with her two bar guests. These two guys, who probably haven’t said two words since they’ve been here, just staring at the NFL pre game show, start smiling and laughing with her. And they bought a gift card! Now these two gentlemen at the bar can’t stop talking. This disruption literally woke them up, and we sold a gift card because we did one thing – we tried.

This method WORKS. We have to get out of our shells. We have to quit being afraid of change and scared of different. We are BAR F&^%$#@G LOUIE and we are Mavericks! We do stuff differently. We created the WOW this morning because we TRIED. I look at the numbers on a spread sheet and it keeps becoming more clear that in my experience, if you’re not producing it’s because you aren’t trying.

?

Within minutes the replies began to ding on my phone. Opening Managers hit me back with “We got you boss!” “Heard!” A few managers and other directors clapped back with congrats for our bartender. A few directors forwarded to their teams, urging the same message by sharing our awesome story.

My VP called me fast and my heart sank. I’d dropped an f-bomb and copied in everyone. This could have gone either way. He called it a big win and mentioned something about brass you-know-whats. The COO replied all, jazzed about the magic. Even our CEO replied all with a “well done.”

If I judged the day by my original mission, I failed miserably. I did have that conversation with Duane. It was a good one. I was psyched when I left that day, because I thought I’d made a difference with him. Duane said all the right things. It was clear he was having a hard time adjusting to his new role and responsibilities, but he told me he was bought in. He was going to make the effort to step up. We had a plan. We shook hands.

Duane walked out less than a week later. Never showed back up and never returned a call.

At the end of the day, Duane wasn’t ready to commit to making changes and learning new things. He didn’t stick to any part of the plan we made and shook hands on. He wasn’t ready to get out of his comfort zone and take the risk. His inability to do those things led him to jump off the ship.

I’ll always carry guilt from that because as a leader it’s my responsibility to make sure leaders are ready for a promotion. When promoted, they should be set up for success. I didn’t do my very best job ensuring that, and I let down Cindi, the team at Bar Louie Hampton that was left without a Kitchen Manager, and Duane, who gave up on his opportunity, his team, his leaders, and himself.

?

In 2016 Bar Louie had Bryan Williams as a speaker at our conference in Cancun. His prevailing message was simple – “leave evidence you were there.” That email is no doubt the proof I made an impact at Bar Louie. It quite literally became etched on the wall. The evidence I left at Bar Louie validates that pushing through the discomfort of something new and the confidence to commit to the risk can pay dividends beyond spreadsheet results – it can change culture.

WE ARE BAR F&^%$#@G LOUIE became the rallying cry for months within our brand. Days after the email, our CEO Tom Fricke had the words added to the wall of the conference room at the office in Addison. A week after that, Tom sent me a handwritten letter thanking me for “THAT email,” which he said had been the missing ingredient he’d been looking for. In a couple of months, placards were made, and chants heard at our annual conference.

“WE'RE”

“BAR”

“FUCKING”

“LOUIE”