Maureen says:
..to the limits of its possibilities and then returns to its starting point.
--Robert Collier
You know the saying 'two steps forward, one step back'? That's not exactly what the last few days have felt like, but it's not far off. More like two steps forward, two to the left, one back, three to the right, another one forward and so on. There is progress. There is motion. Just not always in the same direction or at the same time.
Our noses have been buried again small wares catalogues. We received the samples for our initial selections and while they're gorgeous, they are not unlike objects viewed in a car's sideview mirror in that they are either larger and smaller than they appear in photos. This wasn't the case for all our selections thank the stars, but, well: there's the one step back. Conceptually they're what we want, but practically speaking, not so much.
Ditto the flatware. In terms of design, the pattern aligned with our vision, but the weight of the individual pieces felt light in our hands. The pattern is also 18/8 (18% chromium, 8% nickel) versus 18/10 (18% chromium, 10% nickel), though both are considered ideal alloys for stainless flatware. Chromium is the component that gives the steel its stainless properties; the amount of nickel is responsible for the degree of sheen the pieces have. The difference between the alloy compositions is minimal--both are considered top grade and both protect against corrosion--but in a commercial setting, 18/8 will wear faster than 18/10, so we're rethinking that point as well.
Having to rethink decisions we've already made seems to be this week's leit motif. However, rethinking decisions based on facts is better than second-guessing yourself in a fit of insecurity. It just is.
One thing we don't have to rethink is the light fixtures. The pendants and sconces arrived today and they're nearly what we expected, save for the degree of opacity. But that's hardly what you'd call a problem. Special thanks to my best friend Kath, who incidentally works in commercial lighting, for placing the order. We said, "Let there be there light."
And there was. And it was good.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Catch-22
Tom says:
Tonight I read John Foley's latest post on The Restaurant Blog and found myself alternately nodding in agreement, laughing and experiencing a slight case of nausea. In his post, Foley outlines a two-tier skill set one needs to possess in order to be a successful restaurateur. Go on, click here to read it. I'll wait.
At the risk of being overly reductive, Foley's saying, albeit in a different way and in a slightly different context, what I said a few days ago: You have to wear a lot of hats. You have to be, as Foley says, more rounded than the head of Exxon.
I'd like to add to that list that you also need to have a thick skin. Even if your business plan is solid, your budget's tighter than a cork in a wine bottle and you've got twenty years' experience in the industry and the majority of them are in the market where you plan to open, certain organizations aren't going to want to do business with you. What at first seems like just hesitancy, but is really refusal cloaked in well-developed people skills is going to make you question not only how the hell you're going to pull off your venture, but why, in the first place, it ever seemed like a good idea.
Okay--I get it: restaurants are a high-risk proposition. It's not a secret. Even if you've never really thought about it, chances are that at one time or another, you said, "Hey, let's go to that little place on Such-and-Such Street," only to find out, once you arrived, that it was no longer in business.
Here's what I don't get: the most common reason that most first/new restaurants fail is undercapitalization. I'm willing to bet that a small portion of undercapitalized restaurants simply didn't borrow enough money. More likely though, they couldn't find a traditional bank or commercial lender who was willing to write the loan for the amount they'd need to succeed. Or any loan at all (enter bootstrapping).
Restaurants are risky, they say. Ironically, the majority of these lenders focus their local ad campaigns on their support of small business.
Anyway, the Catch-22 nature of it all is enough to drive me to drink. Think about it. Failure rates for first/new restaurants are most often tied to undercapitalization. I'm going out on a limb here, but maybe, just maybe, if lenders helped restaurateurs achieve a solid capital position the failure rate might not be so high and that market sector might become less risky. I'm just thinking out loud here, because--get ready for more irony--two years down the road when we have a track record we created without their support? They'll be knocking on our door with a check in hand.
Now, I'm not balking at the idea of opening a second location someday, whether the same concept or a different one. That's what money two years down the road would mean. What I am balking at is the idea that a second restaurant automatically has as much or greater chance of success than the first. I've seen first restaurants open on a shoestring and grow into amazingly successful businesses and then I've watched second restaurants, with more funding than they knew what to do with, flail or even fail for reasons that are much harder to identify.
This can't be news to the banks. And that makes it even more difficult to understand.
[Note: that isn't always the case. Michael Buckley's triumvirate--Michael Timothy's, Surf, and Buckley's Great Steaks--is a shining, regional example, all the more notable for Michael Timothy's and Surf being across the street from each other. ]
We found private financing with a small, independent lender who's taking a chance on us. And we've connected with small, independent vendors who are willing to work with us partly in trade--everything from signange to consulting to electrical. If I wasn't already a stalwart supporter of independent business, I would be now. This is how you answer the cry that downtowns everywhere are being taken over chains and box stores and corporate logos. You hang out our own shingle and you frequent places with shingles like yours.
Tonight I read John Foley's latest post on The Restaurant Blog and found myself alternately nodding in agreement, laughing and experiencing a slight case of nausea. In his post, Foley outlines a two-tier skill set one needs to possess in order to be a successful restaurateur. Go on, click here to read it. I'll wait.
At the risk of being overly reductive, Foley's saying, albeit in a different way and in a slightly different context, what I said a few days ago: You have to wear a lot of hats. You have to be, as Foley says, more rounded than the head of Exxon.
I'd like to add to that list that you also need to have a thick skin. Even if your business plan is solid, your budget's tighter than a cork in a wine bottle and you've got twenty years' experience in the industry and the majority of them are in the market where you plan to open, certain organizations aren't going to want to do business with you. What at first seems like just hesitancy, but is really refusal cloaked in well-developed people skills is going to make you question not only how the hell you're going to pull off your venture, but why, in the first place, it ever seemed like a good idea.
Okay--I get it: restaurants are a high-risk proposition. It's not a secret. Even if you've never really thought about it, chances are that at one time or another, you said, "Hey, let's go to that little place on Such-and-Such Street," only to find out, once you arrived, that it was no longer in business.
Here's what I don't get: the most common reason that most first/new restaurants fail is undercapitalization. I'm willing to bet that a small portion of undercapitalized restaurants simply didn't borrow enough money. More likely though, they couldn't find a traditional bank or commercial lender who was willing to write the loan for the amount they'd need to succeed. Or any loan at all (enter bootstrapping).
Restaurants are risky, they say. Ironically, the majority of these lenders focus their local ad campaigns on their support of small business.
Anyway, the Catch-22 nature of it all is enough to drive me to drink. Think about it. Failure rates for first/new restaurants are most often tied to undercapitalization. I'm going out on a limb here, but maybe, just maybe, if lenders helped restaurateurs achieve a solid capital position the failure rate might not be so high and that market sector might become less risky. I'm just thinking out loud here, because--get ready for more irony--two years down the road when we have a track record we created without their support? They'll be knocking on our door with a check in hand.
Now, I'm not balking at the idea of opening a second location someday, whether the same concept or a different one. That's what money two years down the road would mean. What I am balking at is the idea that a second restaurant automatically has as much or greater chance of success than the first. I've seen first restaurants open on a shoestring and grow into amazingly successful businesses and then I've watched second restaurants, with more funding than they knew what to do with, flail or even fail for reasons that are much harder to identify.
This can't be news to the banks. And that makes it even more difficult to understand.
[Note: that isn't always the case. Michael Buckley's triumvirate--Michael Timothy's, Surf, and Buckley's Great Steaks--is a shining, regional example, all the more notable for Michael Timothy's and Surf being across the street from each other. ]
We found private financing with a small, independent lender who's taking a chance on us. And we've connected with small, independent vendors who are willing to work with us partly in trade--everything from signange to consulting to electrical. If I wasn't already a stalwart supporter of independent business, I would be now. This is how you answer the cry that downtowns everywhere are being taken over chains and box stores and corporate logos. You hang out our own shingle and you frequent places with shingles like yours.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
MDMT
Maureen says:
Tom was spot on with the distinction between the multi-tasking required in the kitchen and the multi-tasking that opening a restaurant demands. It's tempting--though perhaps not very nice--to say to him, "Welcome to my world...
...the World of Multi-disciplinary Multi-tasking (MDMT)."
I'm not saying it's easy to hold down a full-time job, contribute to the restaurant opening, manage seven-tenths of the household, wrangle the cats, retain my grip (however loose) on my sense of Self, nurture relationships with friends and family, and still sleep a minimum of eight hours a night*. But it is possible, even when the adventure you're embarking on is a bit more terrifying than exciting.
[Pause while author tries desperately to rid her ears of Peggy Lee singing I'm a Woman.]
The key for me is thinking of Z not as a business I own, but as a client I've been assigned to service. Approaching it in this way helps keep emotion out of it and enables me to make sound, rational decisions more quickly.
So how do you multi-task successfully across a variety of disciplines where successfully means not losing your mind?
As dissimilar as the items on Tom's to-do list might seem to him at times, they're all leading to the same destination. That's what he needs to remember when he feels like all he's doing is spinning his wheels.
Speaking of spinning wheels...actually, let's not. Mine's still in its box and there ain't no way taking it out is going to get the restaurant open (but maybe one day, the restaurant will support my fiber habit).
*Rest is sorely undervalued in our culture, but it's the one area of my life where I refuse to compromise. Without sleep, I'm rubbish.
Tom was spot on with the distinction between the multi-tasking required in the kitchen and the multi-tasking that opening a restaurant demands. It's tempting--though perhaps not very nice--to say to him, "Welcome to my world...
...the World of Multi-disciplinary Multi-tasking (MDMT)."
I'm not saying it's easy to hold down a full-time job, contribute to the restaurant opening, manage seven-tenths of the household, wrangle the cats, retain my grip (however loose) on my sense of Self, nurture relationships with friends and family, and still sleep a minimum of eight hours a night*. But it is possible, even when the adventure you're embarking on is a bit more terrifying than exciting.
[Pause while author tries desperately to rid her ears of Peggy Lee singing I'm a Woman.]
The key for me is thinking of Z not as a business I own, but as a client I've been assigned to service. Approaching it in this way helps keep emotion out of it and enables me to make sound, rational decisions more quickly.
So how do you multi-task successfully across a variety of disciplines where successfully means not losing your mind?
Remember, always, that whether you're opening a restaurant, organizing your child's birthday party or taking up the violin, everything you're doing, no matter how big or small, directly contributes to your highest objective.
Each task Tom's performing has its own mini-objective (usually to cross the damned item off the list). Completing those tasks, however, contributes to the higher objective of opening the restaurant doors on time, on budget, and keeping them open. But the highest objective, here, is for Tom to work for himself and have that work align with his core values (passion for food, commitment to quality service and a deep love for the endangered species known as the independent downtown merchant).As dissimilar as the items on Tom's to-do list might seem to him at times, they're all leading to the same destination. That's what he needs to remember when he feels like all he's doing is spinning his wheels.
Speaking of spinning wheels...actually, let's not. Mine's still in its box and there ain't no way taking it out is going to get the restaurant open (but maybe one day, the restaurant will support my fiber habit).
*Rest is sorely undervalued in our culture, but it's the one area of my life where I refuse to compromise. Without sleep, I'm rubbish.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
If Tom's Chief Cook...
...does that make me Bottle Washer by default?
More musings on this later. Til then, carry on.
More musings on this later. Til then, carry on.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
In Which I Wear Many Hats
The big news today was City Hall's final approval on our plans. Now, our subcontractors can move forward with pulling the permits they need to get their respective jobs done.
[A special note to Karl, who I know now reads the blog: Thanks for holding my hand throughout the process. You made an overwhelming experience less so and brought us that much closer to opening the doors on time.]
Plans approved, it was time to get on the telephone and start scheduling the crews who've been waiting for approvals along with us. Is it wrong to wish that the only role I have to play some days is General Contractor? I feel good about the progress we've made, the pace we're moving at, and comfortable with what we have left to do with what remains of the timeline. So why, on days like today, does it seem like we're no further ahead than we were yesterday?
I think the answer lies in the demon that is multi-tasking. You'd think it wouldn't challenge me the way that it seems to be, right? Working the line in a commercial kitchen all you're doing is multi-tasking: one eye on the starters for the the tables that were sat ten minutes ago, the other on entrees for a party of eight, and the eye in the back of your head is staring down modifications to a dish to accommodate dietary restrictions and all the while you're tracking inventory so the servers can communicate there are only two catch-of-the-day specials left.
The difference is that the multi-tasking I do in the kitchen is single-minded: produce quality product to be delivered the customer in a timely fashion. In other words, the only hat I wear in there is my chef's toque.
Today, you could name almost any department that makes up the whole of a company and I was at its head.
Human Resources: scheduled a meeting to further explore employee group plan options (health); interviewed a candidate for dining room manager and reviewed additional resumes.
Accounting: invoice and receipt filing--they're coming in fast and furious now that work's being done.
Food & Beverage: scheduled a tasting with a chef candidate for early next week (two starters, one salad, one entree; two items must be off our menu, two from the candidate's personal repertoire).
Finance: delivered pertinent financials to Point-of-Service leasing company (believe it or not, purchasing a POS system, after installation and training, is the greatest single-item cost--more than the bar, nearly ten times the cost of the light fixtures).
Information Technology (IT): confirmed our business DSL installation.
Marketing/PR: the only hat I didn't wear today because it's snug on Maureen's head.
No wonder my head feels to explode. And no wonder that the very last thing I want to do when I walk through the door tonight is cook dinner. It's also the very last thing Maureen wants to do as she worked in Boston all day and beause she manages our personal budget I know takeout isn't an option.
Cooking at home amounts to my contribution to the household. Makes sense, no? Trouble is, the last few nights I've been lacking in motivation and desire. Not that that matters to her because trust me, I get the way longer end of the stick when it comes to the house and by no means do my equal share. She'd said though, that once I went back to work we'd split up the cooking a bit. I am just now figuring out that what she means by 'back to work' is earning an income again.
If that's not motivation for getting the doors open and taking downtown by storm, I don't know what is (kidding). Dinner? One of our reliable standbys--mexican pasta. Seared pork, cut into small strips, red and green bell peppers, diced tomatoes, black beans and sweet corn, which I realize isn't much of a recipe, but give a guy a break, okay?
[A special note to Karl, who I know now reads the blog: Thanks for holding my hand throughout the process. You made an overwhelming experience less so and brought us that much closer to opening the doors on time.]
Plans approved, it was time to get on the telephone and start scheduling the crews who've been waiting for approvals along with us. Is it wrong to wish that the only role I have to play some days is General Contractor? I feel good about the progress we've made, the pace we're moving at, and comfortable with what we have left to do with what remains of the timeline. So why, on days like today, does it seem like we're no further ahead than we were yesterday?
I think the answer lies in the demon that is multi-tasking. You'd think it wouldn't challenge me the way that it seems to be, right? Working the line in a commercial kitchen all you're doing is multi-tasking: one eye on the starters for the the tables that were sat ten minutes ago, the other on entrees for a party of eight, and the eye in the back of your head is staring down modifications to a dish to accommodate dietary restrictions and all the while you're tracking inventory so the servers can communicate there are only two catch-of-the-day specials left.
The difference is that the multi-tasking I do in the kitchen is single-minded: produce quality product to be delivered the customer in a timely fashion. In other words, the only hat I wear in there is my chef's toque.
Today, you could name almost any department that makes up the whole of a company and I was at its head.
Human Resources: scheduled a meeting to further explore employee group plan options (health); interviewed a candidate for dining room manager and reviewed additional resumes.
Accounting: invoice and receipt filing--they're coming in fast and furious now that work's being done.
Food & Beverage: scheduled a tasting with a chef candidate for early next week (two starters, one salad, one entree; two items must be off our menu, two from the candidate's personal repertoire).
Finance: delivered pertinent financials to Point-of-Service leasing company (believe it or not, purchasing a POS system, after installation and training, is the greatest single-item cost--more than the bar, nearly ten times the cost of the light fixtures).
Information Technology (IT): confirmed our business DSL installation.
Marketing/PR: the only hat I didn't wear today because it's snug on Maureen's head.
No wonder my head feels to explode. And no wonder that the very last thing I want to do when I walk through the door tonight is cook dinner. It's also the very last thing Maureen wants to do as she worked in Boston all day and beause she manages our personal budget I know takeout isn't an option.
Cooking at home amounts to my contribution to the household. Makes sense, no? Trouble is, the last few nights I've been lacking in motivation and desire. Not that that matters to her because trust me, I get the way longer end of the stick when it comes to the house and by no means do my equal share. She'd said though, that once I went back to work we'd split up the cooking a bit. I am just now figuring out that what she means by 'back to work' is earning an income again.
If that's not motivation for getting the doors open and taking downtown by storm, I don't know what is (kidding). Dinner? One of our reliable standbys--mexican pasta. Seared pork, cut into small strips, red and green bell peppers, diced tomatoes, black beans and sweet corn, which I realize isn't much of a recipe, but give a guy a break, okay?
Can't. Help. Myself.
Maureen's just sayin':
pal·ate [pal-it] –noun
1. Anatomy. the roof of the mouth, consisting of an anterior bony portion (hard palate) and a posterior muscular portion (soft palate) that separate the oral cavity from the nasal cavity.
2. the sense of taste: a dinner to delight the palate.
3. intellectual or aesthetic taste; mental appreciation.
pal·ette [pal-it]–noun
1. a thin and usually oval or oblong board or tablet with a thumb hole at one end, used by painters for holding and mixing colors.
2. any other flat surface used by a painter for this purpose.
3. the set of colors on such a board or surface.
4. the range of colors used by a particular artist.
5. the variety of techniques or range of any art: a lush but uneven musical palette.
6. the complete range of colors made available by a computer graphics card, from which a user or program may choose those to be displayed.
7.(in ancient Egyptian art) a somewhat flattish slate object of various shapes, carved with commemorative scenes or motifs or, esp. in the smaller pieces, containing a recessed area probably for holding eye makeup and often used as a votive offering.
pal·let [pal-it] –noun
1. a bed or mattress of straw.
2. a small or makeshift bed.
pal·lette [pal-it] –noun
Armor. A small plate defending the front of the armpit when the arm is lifted; gusset.
/rant
pal·ate [pal-it] –noun
1. Anatomy. the roof of the mouth, consisting of an anterior bony portion (hard palate) and a posterior muscular portion (soft palate) that separate the oral cavity from the nasal cavity.
2. the sense of taste: a dinner to delight the palate.
3. intellectual or aesthetic taste; mental appreciation.
pal·ette [pal-it]–noun
1. a thin and usually oval or oblong board or tablet with a thumb hole at one end, used by painters for holding and mixing colors.
2. any other flat surface used by a painter for this purpose.
3. the set of colors on such a board or surface.
4. the range of colors used by a particular artist.
5. the variety of techniques or range of any art: a lush but uneven musical palette.
6. the complete range of colors made available by a computer graphics card, from which a user or program may choose those to be displayed.
7.(in ancient Egyptian art) a somewhat flattish slate object of various shapes, carved with commemorative scenes or motifs or, esp. in the smaller pieces, containing a recessed area probably for holding eye makeup and often used as a votive offering.
pal·let [pal-it] –noun
1. a bed or mattress of straw.
2. a small or makeshift bed.
pal·lette [pal-it] –noun
Armor. A small plate defending the front of the armpit when the arm is lifted; gusset.
/rant
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Avoidance. Sort of. Not Really.
Maureen says:
Am nearly out from under the weather, although winter-chapped skin and a nasal tone would lead you to believe otherwise. My sense of taste, however, has returned and just in time to sip my way through a package of sample teas that arrived in yesterday's mail. Three bags into my tasting, a fourth steeping now, and my choice of suppliers is simple. I'll opt out of revealing which Choice Organic Teas I've selected, but I'll promise you that each of them is perfectly lovely. I've also located a local, independent coffee roaster that, like COT, supports Fair Trade. Am very excited to schedule the tasting as, whenever possible, we'd like to do business with local independents (if you'd like to learn more about Fair Trade click here; to find Fair Trade Certified products near you, click here).
Tea is one of several things I turn to in moments of overwhelm. I'm sure Tom would prefer that I turn to it always as some weeks ago the panacea-of-the-day was dismantling my home office somewhere between the time he started dinner and well past my bedtime. Three hours and many reconfigurations later, it became a much better-functioning space (still in need of paint, still with no art on the walls or blinds in the window, but, you know: Rome. A day. Not built in).
I know, I know--my behaviors are transparent even to me. Create an illusion of control over the world? Check. A quick and easy sense of accomplishment? Check. Impose order on a room that has, for months and months also served as a catch-all for things like the cordless drill, shipping boxes and gift wrap? Check. Channel nervous energy? Check. (If you find yourself in a similar state of anxiety but without a home office to reconfigure, then I highly recommend the also-satisfying task of tidying the pantry cupboards.)
It may seem to some that I'm resisting overwhelm or worse, denying I'm overwhelmed by procrastinating and thus making matters worse. The truth is, I'm actually working with overwhelm the best way I know how: by performing tasks that produce tangible results. Call me daft, dotty or dim, but when the last book's spine is aligned with the edge of the shelf and various half-emptied boxes of corn starch are combined into one, I feel a little bit stronger. A little more equal to the tasks waiting for me. A little more David to the GIANT that is opening a restaurant.
Because, while I can afford myself the luxury of vacuuming the dryer vent or deleting watched items off the DVR, a moment spent in self doubt would break the spiritual bank.
This post? Provides the joy of having written without the pain of writing about the 427, 982 things that are freaking me out right about now.
Am nearly out from under the weather, although winter-chapped skin and a nasal tone would lead you to believe otherwise. My sense of taste, however, has returned and just in time to sip my way through a package of sample teas that arrived in yesterday's mail. Three bags into my tasting, a fourth steeping now, and my choice of suppliers is simple. I'll opt out of revealing which Choice Organic Teas I've selected, but I'll promise you that each of them is perfectly lovely. I've also located a local, independent coffee roaster that, like COT, supports Fair Trade. Am very excited to schedule the tasting as, whenever possible, we'd like to do business with local independents (if you'd like to learn more about Fair Trade click here; to find Fair Trade Certified products near you, click here).
Tea is one of several things I turn to in moments of overwhelm. I'm sure Tom would prefer that I turn to it always as some weeks ago the panacea-of-the-day was dismantling my home office somewhere between the time he started dinner and well past my bedtime. Three hours and many reconfigurations later, it became a much better-functioning space (still in need of paint, still with no art on the walls or blinds in the window, but, you know: Rome. A day. Not built in).
I know, I know--my behaviors are transparent even to me. Create an illusion of control over the world? Check. A quick and easy sense of accomplishment? Check. Impose order on a room that has, for months and months also served as a catch-all for things like the cordless drill, shipping boxes and gift wrap? Check. Channel nervous energy? Check. (If you find yourself in a similar state of anxiety but without a home office to reconfigure, then I highly recommend the also-satisfying task of tidying the pantry cupboards.)
It may seem to some that I'm resisting overwhelm or worse, denying I'm overwhelmed by procrastinating and thus making matters worse. The truth is, I'm actually working with overwhelm the best way I know how: by performing tasks that produce tangible results. Call me daft, dotty or dim, but when the last book's spine is aligned with the edge of the shelf and various half-emptied boxes of corn starch are combined into one, I feel a little bit stronger. A little more equal to the tasks waiting for me. A little more David to the GIANT that is opening a restaurant.
Because, while I can afford myself the luxury of vacuuming the dryer vent or deleting watched items off the DVR, a moment spent in self doubt would break the spiritual bank.
This post? Provides the joy of having written without the pain of writing about the 427, 982 things that are freaking me out right about now.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Lead Time
Tom says:
Managing any project start-to-finish requires that you prioritize. Ideally, you want to complete the project on time and under budget; if you complete it on time and on budget, well, that's good too (definitely better than being late or over budget or both). The project plan needs to be flexible and by extension, so do you. Whatever challenges arise, whether known possibilities or complete surprises, you need not only to meet them head on, but meet them with fair, reasonable and unemotional solutions.
There is a possibility that we may have to push the opening back one week, which doesn't sound like a lot until you consider the revenue projections. Interestingly enough, the factors contributing to a possible one-week delay are things I could only learn by doing. In two words: lead time.
More interesting to me is that the areas where lead time might hurt us don't, per se, lie in the dining room. From demo to decor, the dining room will be ready. What we'll be waiting on are the small wares (2-4 weeks lead time), the point-of-service system (4-6 weeks lead time) and exterior signage (4-6 weeks lead time).
So why, with all of this taking up space in my head, was I experiencing a mild panic about staffing? The short answer is, I have no idea.
And then today turned out to be one of those days where Maureen says the universe was listening.
Even before we moved to California I hadn't really lived in Manchester for about five years. Add to that the time we spent in Carmel and I was essentially gone for seven. But the friendships and business relationships I established when I did live here full time? Still going strong.
I've already mentioned, though it will always be worth mentioning again, the counsel and support I've received from Tim, Ed and Pam. But this morning, an old friend from my days at Cafe Pavone and Villa Banca stopped by the restaurant to have a look-see. Joan and her husband also recently returned to Manchester, having lived the last three years in Colorado. We reminisced some, caught up on where we are in our lives now and then she offered up her help in every which way I might need it. Have I mentioned just how very good Joan is? To have the help of yet another person I trust completely goes a long way to keeping me sane. If this were a Ma$tercard commercial, Joan would be the priceless part.
Then, shortly after Joan left, Joe, who's the Assistant GM at Villa Banca dropped in for the 25-cent tour. With a lead for a server/bartender. And when Mike arrived with his tools in the afternoon, he brought a friend with him who's looking to add another part-time position to the one she's already got. Lastly, the ads we've got out there started getting quality responses.
Lead taketh away (small wares, POS, signage) and lead time giveth (thanks Joan, Joe and Mike!).
Maybe the universe was listening. So how about we generate profits by the end of the year? Shut up. It could happen.
Managing any project start-to-finish requires that you prioritize. Ideally, you want to complete the project on time and under budget; if you complete it on time and on budget, well, that's good too (definitely better than being late or over budget or both). The project plan needs to be flexible and by extension, so do you. Whatever challenges arise, whether known possibilities or complete surprises, you need not only to meet them head on, but meet them with fair, reasonable and unemotional solutions.
There is a possibility that we may have to push the opening back one week, which doesn't sound like a lot until you consider the revenue projections. Interestingly enough, the factors contributing to a possible one-week delay are things I could only learn by doing. In two words: lead time.
More interesting to me is that the areas where lead time might hurt us don't, per se, lie in the dining room. From demo to decor, the dining room will be ready. What we'll be waiting on are the small wares (2-4 weeks lead time), the point-of-service system (4-6 weeks lead time) and exterior signage (4-6 weeks lead time).
So why, with all of this taking up space in my head, was I experiencing a mild panic about staffing? The short answer is, I have no idea.
And then today turned out to be one of those days where Maureen says the universe was listening.
Even before we moved to California I hadn't really lived in Manchester for about five years. Add to that the time we spent in Carmel and I was essentially gone for seven. But the friendships and business relationships I established when I did live here full time? Still going strong.
I've already mentioned, though it will always be worth mentioning again, the counsel and support I've received from Tim, Ed and Pam. But this morning, an old friend from my days at Cafe Pavone and Villa Banca stopped by the restaurant to have a look-see. Joan and her husband also recently returned to Manchester, having lived the last three years in Colorado. We reminisced some, caught up on where we are in our lives now and then she offered up her help in every which way I might need it. Have I mentioned just how very good Joan is? To have the help of yet another person I trust completely goes a long way to keeping me sane. If this were a Ma$tercard commercial, Joan would be the priceless part.
Then, shortly after Joan left, Joe, who's the Assistant GM at Villa Banca dropped in for the 25-cent tour. With a lead for a server/bartender. And when Mike arrived with his tools in the afternoon, he brought a friend with him who's looking to add another part-time position to the one she's already got. Lastly, the ads we've got out there started getting quality responses.
Lead taketh away (small wares, POS, signage) and lead time giveth (thanks Joan, Joe and Mike!).
Maybe the universe was listening. So how about we generate profits by the end of the year? Shut up. It could happen.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
All In Half a Day's Work
Tom says:
Wednesday. The demo and painting crew shows up at 8:00a and for some (stupid) reason it didn't occur to me that they would a) need ALL the space or b) move at the speed of light. In short, I lost my office for the day, which wasn't a big deal except for throwing me off balance.
So, I get these guys settled in and then I need to coordinate the delivery and placement of the dumpster. Having it sit on Elm Street was out of the question and behind the building, in the alley, there wasn't room. Fortunately, the owners of the building behind ours allowed us to park the dumpster in their lot for the next two days.
Of course the dumpster gets delivered while I'm in the middle of a pivotal meeting with Ariel and trying to make absolute, final decisions about the construction and design of the banquette seats. So I'm working with her, talking with the driver from the waste management company and then the painting crew chief, Fabio, rushes over to tell me there's water in the dining room.
There's water in the dining room ?!
Turns out the demo crew hit the one hot water pipe that hadn't been turned off. So, yeah: there was water in the dining room. Not a lot and nowhere near enough to cause any damage, but man. All this had happened and it wasn't even noon yet.
But by the end of the day, the ceiling had its first coat of paint; by the end of the next day it was finished (total gallons needed: 8); by the end of the week, the HVAC ducts and walls were wearing their new coats (of paint). And any trepidation I'd had about using bold color on the ceiling--and I'd had plenty--had vanished. The palette translated into fantastic and my vision is turning into reality now in ways that I can actually see.
This is the first week since we bought the restaurant that things seemed crazy and it's only the first of many crazy weeks to come: the police and fire departments both signed off on the plans, so the buildings department should be able to wrap up their approvals early next week. With that behind us, construction, electrical and plumbing can start.
My multi-tasking skills are being challenged. If I'm not in a meeting, I'm on the telephone. If I'm not on the telephone, I'm reviewing product quotes. If I'm not reviewing product quotes, I'm looking at signage and stationery comps. If I'm not looking at comps, I'm interviewing chef and dining room manager candidates. If I'm not interviewing, I'm rewriting menus. If I'm not rewriting menus, I'm tweaking the budget.
Hell, I'm always tweaking the budget.
Wednesday. The demo and painting crew shows up at 8:00a and for some (stupid) reason it didn't occur to me that they would a) need ALL the space or b) move at the speed of light. In short, I lost my office for the day, which wasn't a big deal except for throwing me off balance.
So, I get these guys settled in and then I need to coordinate the delivery and placement of the dumpster. Having it sit on Elm Street was out of the question and behind the building, in the alley, there wasn't room. Fortunately, the owners of the building behind ours allowed us to park the dumpster in their lot for the next two days.
Of course the dumpster gets delivered while I'm in the middle of a pivotal meeting with Ariel and trying to make absolute, final decisions about the construction and design of the banquette seats. So I'm working with her, talking with the driver from the waste management company and then the painting crew chief, Fabio, rushes over to tell me there's water in the dining room.
There's water in the dining room ?!
Turns out the demo crew hit the one hot water pipe that hadn't been turned off. So, yeah: there was water in the dining room. Not a lot and nowhere near enough to cause any damage, but man. All this had happened and it wasn't even noon yet.
But by the end of the day, the ceiling had its first coat of paint; by the end of the next day it was finished (total gallons needed: 8); by the end of the week, the HVAC ducts and walls were wearing their new coats (of paint). And any trepidation I'd had about using bold color on the ceiling--and I'd had plenty--had vanished. The palette translated into fantastic and my vision is turning into reality now in ways that I can actually see.
This is the first week since we bought the restaurant that things seemed crazy and it's only the first of many crazy weeks to come: the police and fire departments both signed off on the plans, so the buildings department should be able to wrap up their approvals early next week. With that behind us, construction, electrical and plumbing can start.
My multi-tasking skills are being challenged. If I'm not in a meeting, I'm on the telephone. If I'm not on the telephone, I'm reviewing product quotes. If I'm not reviewing product quotes, I'm looking at signage and stationery comps. If I'm not looking at comps, I'm interviewing chef and dining room manager candidates. If I'm not interviewing, I'm rewriting menus. If I'm not rewriting menus, I'm tweaking the budget.
Hell, I'm always tweaking the budget.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Soup is Good Food
Maureen says:
While Tom's been focused on equipment and logistics (the demo started on Wednesday), I've been nursing a cold and directing what little energy I do have into two major projects at work. The lovely thing about having both a laptop and a wireless Internet connection at home is that one can, if so inclined, work from the comfort of a warm bed. I haven't as of yet, but I might: each time I think this cold has peaked, it worsens a bit. What started as a head cold has, this morning, moved into my chest.
Tom's feeling heaps better, though, and seems to have made it his mission to keep me in pots of soup. Earlier in the week it was a spicy Pho with chicken and ground pork, that, like most soups, was even better the second day. Last night, minutes after walking through the door, he started in on what he calls his Safety Soup. Safety Soup, so named in the early days of his career when du jour on the menu meant cooking a pot every two days, is easy to make, simple in essence and positively nourishing. If you do any cooking at all, you probably have your own version of Safety Soup. Tom's is tomato-based, contains the usual aromatics (carrots, celery, onion, etc.), chunks of chicken and tiny slabs of bacon (of course), seasoned with salt and pepper. If I asked him for the recipe, he'd say there was none and advise you to make it up as you go along which, for someone like me, is about as helpful an answer as 'cook it until it's done'.
All this is to say that I haven't visited the restaurant since Monday evening. I haven't seen the space emptied of table and chairs, haven't seen where the bar used to be (knocked down, gone, bye-bye), haven't seen the how the color we chose to paint the tin ceiling honors the decorative relief, haven't seen the primer on the walls, haven't seen anything that isn't an 'art shot' (further investigation led us to the conclusion that the blurry-photo issue lies with Tom's unsteady hand, not the camera).
But I have been moving along with writing content for the formal Web site, creative discussions with our Web designer, working with the agency on print production, talking with promotional item vendors about match boxes and coasters, and voicing pointed opinions on server/bartender uniforms, of which I have many.
Speaking of which, I'm of the pointed opinion that the folks at Tylen0l must have been under the influence of their own cold/flu products when they chose to coat their multi-symptom cold relief caplets in "cool burst". They're not chewables; you're supposed to swallow them. Perhaps this is targeted marketing for the segment of their customer base who takes caplets without water and complained about the subsequent medicine mouth. In which case, I'd like to suggest that the team responsible for package design put the phrase "cool burst" in significantly larger type as I purchased them quite by accident and was unpleasantly surprised by the taste of sickly-sweet mint (read: nauseated).
While Tom's been focused on equipment and logistics (the demo started on Wednesday), I've been nursing a cold and directing what little energy I do have into two major projects at work. The lovely thing about having both a laptop and a wireless Internet connection at home is that one can, if so inclined, work from the comfort of a warm bed. I haven't as of yet, but I might: each time I think this cold has peaked, it worsens a bit. What started as a head cold has, this morning, moved into my chest.
Tom's feeling heaps better, though, and seems to have made it his mission to keep me in pots of soup. Earlier in the week it was a spicy Pho with chicken and ground pork, that, like most soups, was even better the second day. Last night, minutes after walking through the door, he started in on what he calls his Safety Soup. Safety Soup, so named in the early days of his career when du jour on the menu meant cooking a pot every two days, is easy to make, simple in essence and positively nourishing. If you do any cooking at all, you probably have your own version of Safety Soup. Tom's is tomato-based, contains the usual aromatics (carrots, celery, onion, etc.), chunks of chicken and tiny slabs of bacon (of course), seasoned with salt and pepper. If I asked him for the recipe, he'd say there was none and advise you to make it up as you go along which, for someone like me, is about as helpful an answer as 'cook it until it's done'.
All this is to say that I haven't visited the restaurant since Monday evening. I haven't seen the space emptied of table and chairs, haven't seen where the bar used to be (knocked down, gone, bye-bye), haven't seen the how the color we chose to paint the tin ceiling honors the decorative relief, haven't seen the primer on the walls, haven't seen anything that isn't an 'art shot' (further investigation led us to the conclusion that the blurry-photo issue lies with Tom's unsteady hand, not the camera).
But I have been moving along with writing content for the formal Web site, creative discussions with our Web designer, working with the agency on print production, talking with promotional item vendors about match boxes and coasters, and voicing pointed opinions on server/bartender uniforms, of which I have many.
Speaking of which, I'm of the pointed opinion that the folks at Tylen0l must have been under the influence of their own cold/flu products when they chose to coat their multi-symptom cold relief caplets in "cool burst". They're not chewables; you're supposed to swallow them. Perhaps this is targeted marketing for the segment of their customer base who takes caplets without water and complained about the subsequent medicine mouth. In which case, I'd like to suggest that the team responsible for package design put the phrase "cool burst" in significantly larger type as I purchased them quite by accident and was unpleasantly surprised by the taste of sickly-sweet mint (read: nauseated).
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