Typical Day
Bernard "Bean" Dip's alarm wakes him at 5:00AM like there are Mexican jumping beans going off in his head. A very sleepy head indeed. Bean must've had a total of two hours of sleep last night. It was hardly even worth leaving the restaurant to come home for his little cat nap.
This is par for the course for poor Bean. He opened his new Shmoopotle franchise restaurant eight months previously and things are still thrilling, terrifying, and exhausting. He's sunk the whole enchilada into this venture and if it fails—if people don't like the food, or if the service is lousy, or, worst of all, if nobody shows up—Bean will be in serious hot oil. It's like he's throwing the biggest, most expensive party of his life and he's worried that none of his friends will come.
Bean takes a quick shower to freshen up, shaves, and changes into his brown slacks, white shirt, and red tie—as instructed in his franchise owner's manual. He slicks back his hair, straightens the tie, and flashes a big smile in the bathroom mirror. "Welcome to Shmoopotle, I'm the owner. Can I get you anything?"
How can he make that phrase sound more natural? He says it hundreds of times per day and he's starting to worry that it's starting to sound automatic. People might start thinking that he doesn't care about them as individual customers—and not only would that be untrue, it would be the kiss of death for his store.
Bean shows up at the store at 6:00AM. The manager, Sam Witch, comes five minutes later. The store won't officially open for another five hours, but all the prep work needs to be done and besides, Bean wants everything to be perfect. Sam does too.
Five hours does not fly by.
Bean and Sam make sure everything is prepped and ready, and by 7:00AM, they're ready for customers. However, there's no breakfast food on their menu. Sam mentions how maybe they could make breakfast burritos, but Bean shuts him down. Everything must be done exactly the way it is in other stores, he says. That was part of the agreement.
Bean and Sam spend their extra time polishing everything until it shines. Once that's done, they indulge in a game of table hockey with the sugar packets. Sam is winning, five to two, when the rest of the crew staggers in at 10:00AM, an hour before the doors of the store will open.
One of the servers isn't wearing her uniform, which she claims isn't fitting right. She left it at home. Bean gives Sam a look. This is his job to handle.
Sam tells the server she needs to go home and get her uniform or she cant work today—or any day. They don't have any backup uniforms laying around, and if this was an issue, she should have brought it up earlier when they could have done something about it.
The server is miffed and says she doesn't need this sort of abuse. She flips a table and walks out. Great, now they're down a server...and possibly a table.
"Don't worry," Sam assures Bean, "We don't need her."
He rights the table.
"See? Good as new."
But they did need hero. When Bean opens the front doors at 11:00AM, there's already a line of people. The restaurant is too popular to handle with just two servers, a manager, and an owner. It's a good problem to have, but good problems are still problems. Bean will have to hire another person, stat.
The lunch crowd is in full swing by noon. Sam and Bean are working side-by-side with the two remaining servers there. The place is packed, and as hectic as it is for Bean, it's also a huge relief. He worries every day about the store buckling. He can't help it. His life's savings are at stake here.
So far, he's been lucky. The people are coming in, and Bean's dream of owning not only this store but others is looking more and more like it could one day become a reality.
The Shmoopotle menu's simplicity helps streamline the whole process. It's all variations on the same ingredients. Custom-built burritos and tacos with clean, fresh ingredients—just pick what you want and the server will toss it in. A taco salad and a quesadilla are the only real variations on the menu, and even those are basically the same thing in different form. People love that each order is made custom, just for them.
The freshly-made chips and guacamole are such big hits that they run out of the ingredients needed to make more at 6:00PM, three hours before closing time. Bean could kick himself. He tries to add it up in his head—that's hundreds of dollars he will lose because he didn't order enough ingredients. Darn.
Oh, well, it's a live and learn experience. He'll add it to the list of stuff he has to do. Re-evaluate how much he goes through each day. Hire a new server—or maybe two. He should probably take a look at his expenses as well, to see what he could cut back on.
At 9:00PM, Bean, Sam, and the rest of the gang close the doors and pack it in. Everyone involved is absolutely exhausted, but the work is far from done.
They still have to clean up and get things ready for the next day. Sam and Bean are right in there helping and, in fact, they are the last to leave at around midnight. If they didn't both love the work, they'd be really discouraged to realize that they have to do it all again the next day.
"Maybe let's get in at 8:00AM instead," says Bean.
"You think that's enough time to get ready?" asks Sam, worried.
Bean sighs. "You're right. Better, make it 7:30AM."