I used to own a restaurant. For about seven years our very best customers were an older, blind man, and his son. They would come in for lunch every day of the week and then sometimes come back for dinner, too. The father was a widower who had not always been blind. He was retired from working in the prisons, and his wife had died, and then he had lost the use of his eyes, too. I think he had diabetes. His son, who had also worked in the prisons, had taken an early retirement, just to look after his Dad. Both men were funny and kind and extremely generous, and we (the owners of the restaurant) and the staff grew to know them, and to love them, a great deal. It got so that we would phone their house if they were just ten minutes late coming in because we would get worried about them. And it got so that they would warn us ahead of time if they were not coming, so that we would not be anxious. They were like a favourite uncle and a beloved grandfather for all of us. And then the inevitable happened--- and the father passed away.
My restaurant sat on a very busy road in the west end of town and had a large sign out front where messages could be posted. I wanted to post an appropriate farewell for our dear friend. The words we chose were: BILL CLARKE... WE MISS YOU ALREADY. I assured the staff that one of the benefits of dieing was that he would have gotten his sight back, because they were afraid that he would not be able to read it. Besides that, his son could certainly do so. We agreed that it was a fitting tribute.
Entirely by co-incidence the pastor of a local church was also named "Bill Clarke." In fact, we discovered by putting up the sign that there were at least three Bill Clarkes in town. We had a man rush into the restaurant to say that he'd been driving by and had not known that his acquaintance had passed away. "Such a young guy!" he told us. "Still working on the road crew for the city just yesterday! And now..." I assured him that his friend was a different Bill Clarke and therefore probably not dead, yet.
Also by co-incidence the pastor of the local church whose name was Bill Clarke had as one of his parishioners my ex-brother-in-law... my ex-wife's twin brother, Jack. He was, of course, the uncle of my son. And by co-incidence, as he was leaving church one Sunday morning, his pastor asked him about his plans for the day. My ex-wife's brother told him that, since that day was his anniversary, he was taking his wife out for dinner.
"Just hope you are not going to--- (and he named my restaurant)."
Jack smiled a little and asked: "Why do you say that?"
"Because I ate lunch there the other day and it was terrible! I'm never going back!"
Jack worked in town and lived in the west end so he had to drive by my old restaurant at least twice a day. He called his sister--- my ex-wife--- my son's mother--- and asked: "Did your son tell his father what Rev. Clarke said to me yesterday?" "I don't think so. Why?"
"Because", said Jack, "They have a big sign up in front of the restaurant, begging him to come back in and try lunch again!"
Since their names were the same, the elderly Bill Clarke used to get the occasional call in the middle of the night from parishioners seeking some counselling from their pastor. He usually corrected the error and gave them the right phone number. Once or twice, though (he confided), he let them talk a little before doing that, and he said he even tried his hand at giving advice when the situations were not too complicated, or too serious. He thought that he had been quite good at that. The two Bills actually ended up meeting each other, before old Bill died, and they discovered that they liked each other. Well, everyone liked old Bill Clarke. The son ended up asking Bill Clarke (the minister) to officiate at his father's funeral. The lunch after the service was at my restaurant. The Rev. Bill Clarke had to tell people about the lunch plans and invite them all to be there. So he did, in fact, end up recommending that the gathered should try my place... and he came, too. And he liked it.
We were glad to have him back.
THIS IS SPALDING GRAY
THIS IS SPALDING GRAY. What really bothers me about this picture is the empty water glass. Who is his server, and why isn't she doing her job?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
PUB QUIZ
Last Tuesday night was trivia night at the Queen's Pub in Kingston, sponsored by Queen's (no relation) University Alma Mater. I go and play when I can. Sometimes my son shows up, and usually I have Irish Tom on my team. "Irish Tom" is not his real name. He may or may not be Irish. "Tom" may or may not be his first name. All I'm saying is that "Irish Tom" is not what appears on his passport.
Anyway, Irish Tom and I did indeed form half of a team on Tuesday night. I am a big fan of the Habs, and Tom is a faithful supporter of the Maple Leafs. So I suggested that our team name be: "Leafs and Canadiens, Living Together". Tom did not say whether he liked the name or not; he only said that we would have two more people joining us, and that they might want input. I said that that was okay, but let's just go with that for now... "No, no, no!" he protested. "The other players may want a say."
"Do you LIKE the name?" I asked. He was entirely non-committal. He is like that: No praise for a clever name... No pat on the back for humour...
Then he showed me that he had already DECIDED on names. I was to be "Greg (No Pencil) Millage". The "no pencil" remark dates back an entire year and refers to the fact that I have been (in the past) a little hasty with my answers, and a little closed-minded about accepting input from others. His name suggestion for me is his way of telling me to let go of the control over team answers. Fair enough. The misspelling of my last name, however, was sheer carelessness.
His name was to be "July, 1969". That was a rather cruel dig concerning that aforementioned incident from one year ago. Something regarding the month and year of the first moon walk. I keep telling him that I had misunderstood the question, and my "June, 1969" answer would have been correct had "first moon walk" been a reference to Michael Jackson, and not to Neil Armstrong. Both men, by the way, advancing civilization while living on another planet.
So the two additional team members join us and the woman says: "What's our team name?" I tell her my idea and she thinks that it's great and she writes it down. I look significantly at Tom but say nothing. He fails to meet my eyes. She turns out to also be a Leaf fan. (They are EVERYWHERE.) Our fourth player is a guy and I ask him what his team is. You know... you do not meet many fans of Buffalo in Kingston. On my suggestion we change the name to "Leafs and Canadiens, Living Together, Brandishing Sabres".
We come second out of twelve teams in the first round. We miss winning by one point. We come second again in the second round. For the third round our name changes to: "Leafs and Canadiens, Living Together, Brandishing Sabres: The Bridesmaids." Our name is getting so long that when they announce our score in the third round (second place again) the Quizmaster (well, Quizmistress, actually) reduces us to "The B.M.'s". And so heading into the fourth, and final, and hardest, round (Name That Tune) our self esteem has been, collectively, diminished as only a moniker referring to poop can doo.
Anyway, Irish Tom and I did indeed form half of a team on Tuesday night. I am a big fan of the Habs, and Tom is a faithful supporter of the Maple Leafs. So I suggested that our team name be: "Leafs and Canadiens, Living Together". Tom did not say whether he liked the name or not; he only said that we would have two more people joining us, and that they might want input. I said that that was okay, but let's just go with that for now... "No, no, no!" he protested. "The other players may want a say."
"Do you LIKE the name?" I asked. He was entirely non-committal. He is like that: No praise for a clever name... No pat on the back for humour...
Then he showed me that he had already DECIDED on names. I was to be "Greg (No Pencil) Millage". The "no pencil" remark dates back an entire year and refers to the fact that I have been (in the past) a little hasty with my answers, and a little closed-minded about accepting input from others. His name suggestion for me is his way of telling me to let go of the control over team answers. Fair enough. The misspelling of my last name, however, was sheer carelessness.
His name was to be "July, 1969". That was a rather cruel dig concerning that aforementioned incident from one year ago. Something regarding the month and year of the first moon walk. I keep telling him that I had misunderstood the question, and my "June, 1969" answer would have been correct had "first moon walk" been a reference to Michael Jackson, and not to Neil Armstrong. Both men, by the way, advancing civilization while living on another planet.
So the two additional team members join us and the woman says: "What's our team name?" I tell her my idea and she thinks that it's great and she writes it down. I look significantly at Tom but say nothing. He fails to meet my eyes. She turns out to also be a Leaf fan. (They are EVERYWHERE.) Our fourth player is a guy and I ask him what his team is. You know... you do not meet many fans of Buffalo in Kingston. On my suggestion we change the name to "Leafs and Canadiens, Living Together, Brandishing Sabres".
We come second out of twelve teams in the first round. We miss winning by one point. We come second again in the second round. For the third round our name changes to: "Leafs and Canadiens, Living Together, Brandishing Sabres: The Bridesmaids." Our name is getting so long that when they announce our score in the third round (second place again) the Quizmaster (well, Quizmistress, actually) reduces us to "The B.M.'s". And so heading into the fourth, and final, and hardest, round (Name That Tune) our self esteem has been, collectively, diminished as only a moniker referring to poop can doo.
QUOTATIONS TO PONDER
"Managers tend to pick a strategy that is least likely to fail, rather than to pick a strategy that is most efficient. The pain of looking bad is worse than the gain of making the best move."
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
Remind you of anyone? The "safe" and conventional choices trump the really good ones every time. And the business under-performs.
"...if gross miscalculating of a person's value could occur on a baseball field, before a live audience of 30,000, and a television audience of millions more, what did that say about the measurement of performance in other lines of work? If professional baseball players could be over- or under- valued, who couldn't?"
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
This applies to staff, and customers, and suppliers, too.
"The pleasure of rooting for Goliath is that you can expect to win. The pleasure of rooting for David is that, while you don't know what to expect, you stand at least a chance of being inspired."
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
This should be taped to every one's forehead. Most of us are Davids.
"The lesson of Warren Buffet was: To succeed in a spectacular fashion you had to be spectacularly unusual."
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
...or was that Jimmy Buffet?
"People... operate with beliefs and biases. To the extent that you can eliminate both and replace them with data, you gain a clear advantage.'
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
But don't get caught looking at your own average check at work if you work at the Orange Cat!!
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
Remind you of anyone? The "safe" and conventional choices trump the really good ones every time. And the business under-performs.
"...if gross miscalculating of a person's value could occur on a baseball field, before a live audience of 30,000, and a television audience of millions more, what did that say about the measurement of performance in other lines of work? If professional baseball players could be over- or under- valued, who couldn't?"
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
This applies to staff, and customers, and suppliers, too.
"The pleasure of rooting for Goliath is that you can expect to win. The pleasure of rooting for David is that, while you don't know what to expect, you stand at least a chance of being inspired."
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
This should be taped to every one's forehead. Most of us are Davids.
"The lesson of Warren Buffet was: To succeed in a spectacular fashion you had to be spectacularly unusual."
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
...or was that Jimmy Buffet?
"People... operate with beliefs and biases. To the extent that you can eliminate both and replace them with data, you gain a clear advantage.'
Michael Lewis, Moneyball
But don't get caught looking at your own average check at work if you work at the Orange Cat!!
MONEYBALL
The movie "Moneyball" made on me a great impression. I have been thinking about how the movie (about a small market baseball team trying to compete with the likes of the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox) contains lessons for the restaurant industry in my home town.
I have worked for small, independently owned restaurants and I have worked for one of the biggest chains in the world. I have even owned a small, independently owned establishment in Kingston. (Let's call it: "Bananaskins". Not for legal reasons... I just like the name.) Small businesses the world over often make the point that they cannot compete with large corporations because they (the corporations) have all the money. That's kind of like the situation in baseball, and that brings me back to Moneyball.
Brad Pitt plays a real life character called Billy Beane and he was (and still is) the general manager of the Oakland Athletics, a small market team if ever their was one. The owner of the team is just an ordinary millionaire and his pockets are no where near as deep as the pockets in New York and Boston. So Brad Pitt (Billy Beane) must find a way to sign players he can afford and still be in the hunt to win the World Series. Otherwise... what's the point? And he knows the old methods of finding players have not been working. He turns to, and hires as his assistant, a computer geek who has never played a game of baseball in his life, but he knows stats and he loves numbers and he has his own theories about how to get value when you sign a player to your team. It's called "sabre metrics". And the result is a very entertaining movie, and a very good lesson for restaurant owners in Kingston.
Restaurants are labour-intensive. You need staff. You (the owner) cannot do it all yourself. So you need to find good people. And you need to hire them. And you need to retain the really good ones. And how can you do that when you are competing with the likes of The Keg and Red Lobster and Milestones? And how do you MEASURE the performance of your staff and therefore recognize the good ones?
Restaurants, like all businesses, need customers. How does the independent operator attract customers to his or her place when the big chains can spend so much on advertising? How do you (the little guy/gal) compete on a fair and equal footing against the Wal-Marts of the world? To quote Michael Lewis, who wrote the book "Moneyball": "It's an unfair game." What can you do?
You want to be in the hunt for the World Series, don't you? Otherwise... What's the point?
I have worked for small, independently owned restaurants and I have worked for one of the biggest chains in the world. I have even owned a small, independently owned establishment in Kingston. (Let's call it: "Bananaskins". Not for legal reasons... I just like the name.) Small businesses the world over often make the point that they cannot compete with large corporations because they (the corporations) have all the money. That's kind of like the situation in baseball, and that brings me back to Moneyball.
Brad Pitt plays a real life character called Billy Beane and he was (and still is) the general manager of the Oakland Athletics, a small market team if ever their was one. The owner of the team is just an ordinary millionaire and his pockets are no where near as deep as the pockets in New York and Boston. So Brad Pitt (Billy Beane) must find a way to sign players he can afford and still be in the hunt to win the World Series. Otherwise... what's the point? And he knows the old methods of finding players have not been working. He turns to, and hires as his assistant, a computer geek who has never played a game of baseball in his life, but he knows stats and he loves numbers and he has his own theories about how to get value when you sign a player to your team. It's called "sabre metrics". And the result is a very entertaining movie, and a very good lesson for restaurant owners in Kingston.
Restaurants are labour-intensive. You need staff. You (the owner) cannot do it all yourself. So you need to find good people. And you need to hire them. And you need to retain the really good ones. And how can you do that when you are competing with the likes of The Keg and Red Lobster and Milestones? And how do you MEASURE the performance of your staff and therefore recognize the good ones?
Restaurants, like all businesses, need customers. How does the independent operator attract customers to his or her place when the big chains can spend so much on advertising? How do you (the little guy/gal) compete on a fair and equal footing against the Wal-Marts of the world? To quote Michael Lewis, who wrote the book "Moneyball": "It's an unfair game." What can you do?
You want to be in the hunt for the World Series, don't you? Otherwise... What's the point?
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