1961 - Lessons Learned - Do It Right The First Time

Dad was always a good instructor, he took the time to explain and, often demonstrate his lessons. There are diffrent levels of students...

1961 – Do It Right The First Time

“Dad!! What are you doing!!?” I jumped back across the room ready to stop his wholesale scrapping of all the orders I had started.

He held a hand up. “Hang on. Go over there and have a smoke, calm down and watch a master.” He continued to sweep 15 or so eggs into the trash. He calmly reached up to the order stand and took an order-ticket down, calmly cracked 8-eggs and put toast into the toaster. Scooping a generous portion of home-fries onto a plate already decorated with a sprig of parsley and 3 dill-slices. He set aside and picked up the next ticket. He was way too calm. We had people lined up out the door awaiting a table and several customers who had sent orders back to re-do. How could he be so calm? He picked up the next ticket and began prepping the food as indicated. Upon getting that order started he checked the first order by tapping the corner of the spatula next to each item – they looked about ready to me – he continued to the next ticket. After prepping that order he checked again the first order scooping two eggs, a generous portion of home-fries and 3-slices of bacon. Retrieving the toast he quickly covered it with butter, cut it in half with a efficient move and placed it on the plate. Repeating these process 3-more times he placed the plates on the pick-up area & hit the bell “Order-Up,” he shouted and turned back to the grill before anyone could answer. He grabbed the next ticket and began prepping the items per the order. I virtually vibrated in place as I observed. With all of these customers being so demanding how did he think he was going to get all of these people served? Come-on, dad! Pick it up!

He moved steadily with no wasted moves and in around 20-minutes every customer was served satisfactorily and the next group was entering. I shook my head and moved back to the grill. “How on Earth did you do that?” I asked.

“Your problem was clear as soon as I walked in. You let the crowd get to you.” Dad answered.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I was cooking what they wanted and I was keeping up fine until they started sending the plates back. I think they knew it was me and they were testing the new-guy.”

“Naaa, you’ve been here for 2-weeks. Any testing they were going to do had been done.” He looked over his glasses, “Besides this is a race week. Most of these people have never been in the restaurant before.”

The restaurant in question was the Olympic Restaurant in Daytona Beach, Florida. Dad had “retired” there several years before and had already opened and sold an office cleaning business. Because this business became successful he wound up hiring employees, which, of course would miss time or quit. This turned his retirement “hobby” into work. He had often had second jobs through the years and the ones he enjoyed most were in food service so it was a natural that, if he was going to have a business that required employees, set hours and time on the job it would be something he enjoyed. He bought a restaurant that was going out of business like the previous 2 in this location. Dad was going great-guns and always had a full house. In a couple of years he would sell the restaurant for a big profit…they, too, would soon fail and eventually the next-door used-car dealer would turn it into his showroom. For now the food was good, generous and inexpensive. He had made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: If I moved to Florida and became his cook he would give me the business in 5-years. How could I possibly pass that up? I gave 6-weeks notice and headed out for Florida. Unfortunately I didn’t understand – dad needed a breakfast cook. This meant going to bed at 7:30 PM so I could get up at 3:00 AM, get to work by 3:45 and start bacon and home-fries for opening at 5:00. I’m a night person, ultimately it wouldn’t work out, but for now, I was still enjoying my new position but already having serious doubts. Within 2-weeks I would be giving dad a 6-week notice in prep to return to my old job in San Diego. For the minute I was ok.

The restaurant was in an industrial area so all of his regulars were folks that lived or worked in the immediate area…except during Race Week, this week, when Daytona was so full of people EVERY restaurant would be sold out all day, every day. The regulars avoided the crowd during Race Weeks. I couldn’t believe how busy it was! The difference in 1-day!

Dad continued, “Problem was you can’t cook a 3-minute egg in 2 ½ minutes.”

It was my turn to look over my glasses. “I know that.”

“I’m sure you do but you weren’t practicing what you knew. I used to have the same problem. You’ve got a board full of orders, there is no sign of letting up and you’re anxious to get those orders out of the way so you can get to the next. Problem is when you don’t let the product have its final 30-seconds you wind up serving eggs that are not as ordered and you wind up having to redo anything that wasn’t correct. You’re cooking twice the number of orders as you have because you are re-doing most of them.” He turned toward the grill. “Try this. When you just can’t wait anymore greet the eggs, put the spatula down and ask them if they’re ready. Check the order to make sure it’s right, pick up the spatula and then flip or serve ‘em.”

It sounded absolutely ridiculous. How would talking to the eggs help them cook? I opened my mouth to ask and dad held up a hand. “Wait.” He paused. “The egg doesn’t really care about hearing from you but taking that extra time, as ridiculous as it sounds will give the eggs the extra time they need to finish. You can’t rush an egg.” Then he said those reminiscent words: “If you’re going to do this it needs to be done right. If you know how to do the job and take the care to do it right the first time you will save time in the long run because you are only doing the task once.” I recalled those exact words had been used years before when I was only around 12.

I had only been performing my job at the family music store for about a month. My job consisted of normal janitorial tasks. I arrived every night after school to dust, sweep and do general clean-up. Saturdays I arrived early in the morning. After finishing the normal duties Dad had asked me to sweep the big dance area, which sat at the rear of the store and often was used to overstock instruments or assorted supplies. I grabbed the big push-broom that I had seen dad use so many times and began to run it quickly across the floor. It was a Saturday and I had told my friend, Bobby, I would be over to visit by 10:00 AM. It was already 9:45 and I had several blocks to walk. I practically ran the broom over the floor and propped it back into the corner. I headed towards the front of the store where dad was watching the counter while mom did a demo on an accordion. “I’m taking off, dad.” I said.

“Just a minute. Not so fast.” He said. “Lets check your work.”

“Come-on,” I thought, “how hard could sweeping be? What the heck is he checking for?” Out loud I said, “OK, but Bobby is waiting for me. I have to get going.” Dad headed for the back of the store. After a few seconds I followed.

“Look at this!” He said, “There’s a big pile of dirt and dust in the corner here and you’ve missed big swatches of the floor.” It was easy to see where I had missed as when the back door was opened it revealed quite plainly the swept areas, which glittered in the sunlight. The floor, although concrete, was kept polished for better dancing and the spots I missed didn’t glow like the rest of the floor. “It’ll have to be done again.” He left.

Grumbling I picked the push-broom back up and began to sweep parallel to the wall as close as possible. I carefully swept every inch of the floor although I performed all of this work while I was practically, again, on the run. When I finished I stopped at the door – looked great…to me.

Not so much for dad. After a second review I was instructed again to re-do the job which was not done to his satisfaction. Now I REALLY wined and complained, “But I already did it twice! Why do I have to do it again?”

“Because the job’s not done right.” He said, “If you’re going to do this it needs to be done right.” He glanced at the floor. “Who taught you how to use a broom?”

“No one! Everybody knows how to use a broom! I’ve seen you enough times! I was careful! Why do I have to do it again? It can’t be done any better.” He looked at me in silence for a few seconds. “Which broom did you use?” I pointed to the push-broom I had seen dad use for the same job. “Let’s see you sweep.”

Putting the broom directly in front of me I began to walk the length of the room staying as close to the wall as possible.

“Whoa! Stop! Who taught you how to use a broom?” Dad asked again.

“No one.” I repeated.

“Watch me.” He said as he grabbed the regular straw broom and began sweeping and digging dust and dirt out of the corners. “First we have to get all of the dirt out where you can get to it. Here, take the broom.” I grasped it with both hands about a foot apart and near the middle of the handle. “Stop. Wait. Hold the broom like this.” He demonstrated holding one hand near the end of the handle and the other placed 1 ½ - 2 feet lower. “Use the broom kind of like a lever,” he said, “Use the lower hand to get the bristles into the corner or against the wall, then use the other hand to twist the broom so it sweeps dirt out onto the floor. Use your lower hand as a fulcrum, just like the teeter-totter we were talking about the other day.” We had been at the school with my little brothers when dad began explaining how the teeter-totter was just like the crowbar he had used just that particular morning to break a large boulder loose from behind the garage where we had been mowing around it for years. He placed a smaller rock under the crow-bar and near the head and began to pry the small boulder out he explained how the rock was a “fulcrum” just like the middle support on a teeter-totter. The playground ride was simply a balanced lever. This day as I swept he continued to expand upon the principles of the fulcrum and lever. Luckily by the time I was done with the job he was done explaining or we would still be there discussing basic physical physics.

As I was anxious to get out to my friends I sincerely hoped he had wrapped this explanation up. He finished with, “You wasted a lot of time by redoing and redoing the job. Remember if you’re going to do a job it needs to be done right. If you know how to do the job and take the care to do it right the first time you will save time in the long run because you are only doing the task once. Understand?”

I nodded my understanding and took off for play.

Reflecting back perhaps I hadn’t learned that lesson as well as I had hoped.

Guess every once in a while…I just need a refresher course.