Let’s do a little compare and contrast for a second.
Not that long ago, I used to attend the Texas Roadhouse in Chantilly, VA an average of three to four times as week. And during those visits, I’d bring business clients, friends, coworkers, and family. The staff and management there knew be my name, and I didn’t even have to tell the wait staff what I wanted – they just brought it to me. What I wanted, of course, was the high end fillet, and would convince others in the group that they had to have one as well. We were always pleasant and fun, never demanding, forgiving of kitchen backlogs, and tipped insanely. Waitresses would fight over who’d get us, and even with a full load, they were happy to add us and management helped with that any way they could.
A number of my friends have noticed that I haven’t stepped foot in the Roadhouse for nearly half a year, have vetoed every suggestion to go back, and have talked our customers and coworkers out of going so much to the point it doesn’t even come up in conversation any more. And, seeing how some of my friends aren’t in the know, I’ll address what’s going on for sake of clarification.
But let’s take a quick digression: what business is McDonald’s in? If you said selling hamburgers, you’re wrong. McDonald’s is in the real estate market. What McDonald’s corporation knows is that if they put a store at a location, it generates traffic. So, it’s to their advantage to buy up a lot of property in the surrounding area, franchise a McDonald’s, and then collect big on rent and improved property values. Smart guys.
Now, back to the real question: what business is the Texas Roadhouse in? If you said steaks, then you’re thinking like the current management, and you’re wrong. The real product, whether they know it or not, is superior customer service. Because, frankly, I can get those steaks elsewhere. It’s the experience (despite the ambiance), that brings me back time and time again, hauling new customers with me each visit.
The Chantilly store was an odd breed, and it wasn’t run in the same manner as other stores across the country. The service manager understood how to build a team that felt like it was family, and they rewarded the store with loyalty and happy, repeating customers. That location never had a problem hiring people, and it didn’t have as many intra-staff social problems, and it consistently blew away whatever national goals were set for it.
Without going into details, prior management wanted to relocate and open another store; but corporate felt things better off not changing things. And, as we know from almost any industry, if you don’t let someone grow, they go. Corporate found themselves scrambling to plug the management hole. They did a bad job. A very bad job.
The problem is, the people they got in there now are under the impression they sell steaks, not customer service, and the place has been going downhill ever since. Sure, there may be enough volume to sustain things for a while, but Texas Roadhouse has slipped from superior to mediocre almost over night. Between Morton’s and Ruth’s Chris – we always used to choose the Texas Roadhouse. Today, I’d rather visit McDonald’s than deal with the Texas Roadhouse. And have.
On our third-to-last and second-to-last visits, we had noticed that service started to suck. The staff spoke badly of management at the tables. No one was smiling. And the atmosphere of fun had simply been replaced with loud. We watched as server after server quit, going to other places like the Cheesecake factory. Prior to this, they were happy being there, even if it meant making less.
The nail in the coffin happened one Friday evening when we had family in town. We had promised my niece steak, and that meant she’d get to see her friends at the Roadhouse. My little niece was smitten with the wait staff and would draw them pictures and give them back rubs.
We arrive around 6pm, and are instantly greeted by our favorite waitress who has just had the fortune of a six-top table opening, which would handle the five adult and one seven year old.
Just as she was about to seat us, the current manager came rushing out telling her she couldn’t do that, that there was someone in front of us. A couple.
He escorted them to the only open table, the six-top, and we waited, being issued a pager.
Now I’m not asking for special treatment, but there was a very sensible partaking of logic that this waitress was trying to execute. It was what she was taught by the prior management that no longer worked there. And, no, it wasn’t about making repeat customers happy. It was basic queue management, and we were about to witness it.
In moments, like clockwork less than a minute later, a two-top table opened up. Only the problem was, we weren’t a party of two. We didn’t fit. And then another opened.
People started coming in for dinner, and were jumped past us in line because a table was open for them. Meanwhile we stood there. Waiting.
Had the waitress been able to do what she wanted, we would have been served, and so would the other couple – and given our past reputation – we would have been an easy table, enabling her to give all her customers better quality attention.
About 30 minutes into it, we were assured a table was going to open up, as a guest had just finished eating. False alarm, they ordered dessert. We were promised 15 minutes.
This went on and on, and my niece interrupted to tell us that she had just learned how to tell time, and it had been much longer than 15 minutes. Right she was.
Another six-top paid their check, but then just continued to sit there. We understand that doing this cuts into the number of customers the waitress sees an evening, so when we’re done, we clear out.
By this time we had lost track of how many other couples and groups of four had entered, eaten, and left.
My sister informed me that we were now past her daughter’s bedtime, and we still had not eaten. Only, I had worse problems to deal with.
My mother, who’s 65 and requires a cane, can’t get up and down easily — she was standing this whole time because it was always going to be “in just a moment.” She just started going into diabetic shakes as her blood sugar was going out of whack.
I ended up hunting down our potential waitress and getting an ounce or so of soda in a small cup, and that was enough to slow the jitters.
All of this happened in the open public forum, with the hostesses just watching the show, and management flipping through paper like there wasn’t a thing that could be done.
We’d been on our feet for about two hours and decided we had had enough. For good.
I hunted down the waitress who had tried to help us out from the start, gave her our pager, said we were sorry (since she knew an enormous tip just left), and we were going elsewhere. She was in the parking lot on break. She was clearly frustrated with what was going on, stating it didn’t used to be like this. We let her know this wasn’t her fault.
To end the evening, what we did was drive to the Malibu Grill, and in the height of their dinner time, walked in, no wait, because they kept tables open for larger sized parties, and were immediately seated and all night had phenomenal service. We ate well, got desserts, and tipped hardily.
My niece announced that was new favorite place, and could we go back when she’s in town. Everyone assured her that would not be problem.
The Roadhouse lost our business not just that night, but our regular business as well, and that of our friends and co-workers that we normally have tag along. My family isn’t thrilled with the prospect of returning there, and the incident has been shared as an interesting story in quite a number of conversations. It is saddening to see a great place just crash.
And, from talking with people who used to work there and are still in touch, our decision was the right one — things have only gotten worse. This wasn’t a bad night, it’s been a trend of a continual downhill slide.
One co-worker fessed up that he went there once after work, and described the experience as simply horrible. He has no interest in returning.
I’ve kept a message on my phone for months dated back in April, in which a friend describes: “Yeah, my experiences at Roadhouse are getting less and less enjoyable. It’s been quite a while since I’ve gone due to the service. Very disappointing.” And that was an unprompted email – I share it with anyone I have this conversation with. It isn’t the food, it’s about the service.
Now I’m not asking to cut in line, and God knows I’ve let other people jump in front of me whether for special needs or just general politeness when someone who looks like they’ve had a hard day, but when there’s a young child and an elderly person waiting an excessive amount of time — you do something. This event wasn’t off management’s radar, it was caused by management’s actions.
That something could have been to start reserving adjacent tables, or perhaps offer a glass of water from the bar. You do not make false promises and act like you’re a victim of circumstances. If need be, open another section and let a waitress who’s willing take the extra load. There are dozens of ways to make the customer experience memorable in a positive way, only it requires one simple attribute: leadership.
Well, that is, unless you think your job is just to sell steaks.
And that works in the short term, but I think we can safely say that Texas Roadhouse isn’t opening as many new stores as they had hoped. Hmm, I wonder why.
So some of our really cool friends who live in the neighborhood hold this amazing backyard party each year, in which they rent an enormous water slide that’s about as tall as their two story house.
Ok, I lied. They’re not ordered, and there’s more than ten. Which ones have your friends plagued you with?
We go over and when we get inside, there is this cute, loving, purring motor of the sweetest Calico I’ve ever seen.