Restaurant Hiring Signs Spell Trouble for Your Business
Traveling by air has become horrendous. Forget the food. The service has diminished beyond human expectations. Have you ever walked to the gate, ticket in hand, only to be greeted by a sign reading, "Pilot Needed, Apply here"? Of course not. That would be ridiculous, especially on the part of the airline.
Baseball games? Ever walked into one of those crowded stadiums only to be greeted by a sign reading, "Pitcher, Needed. Apply Clubhouse"? Of course not.
Why then would a restaurant put a very large -- viewable by The Google Cam -- sign in their window with the words "Cook, Needed. Apply Within"? The photo was recently taken in Glen Ellen, Calif. Each time I see the sign, down the road from my home, I wonder why the owner doesn't realize the damage done.
I actually pondered the question so many times I launched an Industry platform matching employees with jobs more than 10 years ago. Back then the cost of newspaper employment ads where so outrageously expensive it was almost understandable and possibly acceptable to window sign hire. Especially in major urban enclaves where would-be, could-be or soon-to-be professionals strolled sidewalks, resume in hand searching for the next Tipsy Pig.
But on this planet, in this world, there are more advantageous ways to hire kitchen staff. One of the key ingredient to any successful restaurant is the privacy such a public place practices with personal business.
Telling the world your chef -- the person in control of your very future -- is missing in action is mere foolishness. You NEVER tell anyone you need a chef. Owners certainly shouldn’t broadcast to drivers-by and customers thinking of walking in that the key employee doesn’t yet have a key.
Between the time I put my last restaurant up for sale, and the time I sold it, there was a three-month span of very tumultuous times. Bad economy. Cold winter. And, too high a rent took a toll on everyone. But the light at the end of the tunnel was getting brighter as a closing date was just weeks away.
My night sandwich chef –- a dishwasher during the day with great potential -– left for a more stable dishwashing position without a second's notice. I was already short-handed in the main kitchen. The night was looking bleak.
Until, I called a very minimal invested partner who always wanted to play restaurant. None of the staff knew him and with a white chef’s coat to hide his tie -- he had come from work -- he did just fine.
For that evening he was known as “Sammy Sandwich.” He actually only cracked in the middle of the dinner hour when he had three tickets in front of him. The confusion got to him. He was actually getting the mustard and the mayonnaise mixed up. People were sending their sandwiches back. Something as simple as turkey with lettuce and Swiss was being tossed because he couldn’t remember which called for mayo and which mustard.
Sammy Sandwich had fun that night. It cost the restaurant some customers. We didn’t win any sandwich awards that night. The last time I saw Sammy he was strolling sidewalks, resume in hand, reading window signs.
