Changing with the Times

Changing with the times. That’s something many people do… and many people fear.

For me, change has been both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes it made me better. Other times, I think I got lost somewhere in the translation of it all.

Take restaurant ownership for example.

I started in the food and beverage world back in 1992, working at my first beer and liquor establishment. What started as just a job quickly snowballed into a lifestyle, one I embraced for many, many years.

Back then, we worked. And I mean really worked.

When it was busy, we hustled. We busted our asses. We ran food, stocked coolers, cleaned constantly, checked orders, rotated inventory, and made sure the place was ready for the next shift and the next day. There was pride in it. And we all did the jobs, all the jobs, there wasn’t any “that’s not my job” shit.

But we also knew how to enjoy the job.

When things slowed down, we played pool. We threw darts. We played keno. Hell, sometimes we invented our own games just to survive a dead Tuesday night. There was a camaraderie to it all. A weird little dysfunctional family built around grease traps, neon lights, and last call. And rye front of house and back of house all got along… today a server wouldn’t be caught dead chatting up a cook!

And then there was the jukebox.

Music was part of the soul of a bar. Somebody was always feeding dollars into that machine. You could almost tell what kind of night it was going to be by what songs were playing.

That’s one of the biggest changes I notice now.

Today’s workers are different. And maybe this is the part where I officially sound old, but I don’t understand it. The average worker today doesn’t embrace the food and beverage world the way we once did. They don’t seem connected to it. The energy feels different. Instead of the jukebox, the average workers is forever on their phone.

Somewhere along the line, the mindset shifted from:
“How do we make this place great?”
to:
“How can I get paid while doing the absolute minimum?”

Maybe it’s society as a whole. Maybe priorities changed. Maybe the industry changed people instead of the other way around.

But the bars and restaurants themselves? They didn’t really change.

The people working in them did.

I may never fully understand where the great workers went. The grinders. The people who took pride in outworking everyone else in the building. The ones who treated the business like it mattered because it supported their lifestyle, their friends, and their future.

But I still believe those people are out there somewhere.

The ones willing to get after it.
The ones willing to hustle.
The ones willing to bust their ass because that’s just who they are.

And honestly?

Those are still my kind of people. So if you’re a go getter, a hustler, a grinder… come see me. We just may be hiring!

The Great Wing Debate: Here We Go Again…

There are few things more predictable on social media than the cycle of outrage, political arguments, and someone asking:

“Who has the best wings in the area?”

Like clockwork, it rises from the ashes every few weeks like a deep-fried phoenix coated in medium sauce.

And once again, hundreds of people rush into the comments armed with absolute certainty, as if they’ve been personally appointed to the Supreme Court of Chicken Wings.

The funny part?

Half the people answering are recommending the same place they’ve been eating at since 2009 and haven’t ventured beyond its parking lot since.

Now don’t get me wrong, I sell wings. I love wings. I fully support unhealthy emotional attachment to crispy poultry. But let’s be honest about what these posts actually become.

A giant, repetitive, subjective food war.

Because every single time the question gets asked:

The original poster is never going to try all 37 places mentioned.
Every answer is based on personal bias and loyalty.
The same businesses get repeated over and over.
And the more the question gets asked, the fewer people even care enough to answer it anymore.

It’s social media Groundhog Day with bleu cheese dressing.

So who actually has the best wings?

Honestly? I have no idea.

I’m partial to my own because, well… they’re mine. That’s how ownership works. I’d be concerned if I was in my own kitchen whispering, “You know whose wings are really better? The Tavern.”

What I can say is consistency matters.

Good wings on Tuesday should still be good on Friday night when the kitchen is slammed, the fryer is screaming for mercy, and somebody at table seven wants “extra crispy but not too crispy.”

That consistency is probably what separates good wing places from great ones.

And here’s the thing:
Most people recommending “the best wings” probably only go to one or two spots regularly anyway. Which is fine. Everybody has favorites. But favorites and “best” aren’t always the same thing.

So here’s my completely revolutionary advice for anyone about to make the weekly wing post:

Before asking the question again…

Go to the group page.
Hit the search icon.
Type in “chicken wings.”

Congratulations… you’ve unlocked the archives of approximately 9,000 identical posts.

Read through them.
Make a list.
Then go try the places yourself.

Turn it into a mission.
A wing crawl.
A cholesterol-powered adventure across the Ohio Valley.

Because the only real way to know who has the best wings… is to actually eat the wings.

Crazy concept, I know.

My Wishlist

An Unhealthy Way to Manage

Today’s blog is an angry rant. A painful, physically and mentally painful testament to why being in charge of people is an unhealthy stressor. How the constant repetition of explaining and showing how to do things is tiresome to the point of extreme exhaustion.

Reliability is at an all time low. Accountability is nonexistent. I wish making excuses and not owning up to wrongdoings was a fireable offense!

I wish employees would do their actual jobs and stop conducting their personal business while on company time.

I wish I could convey these messages and people hear them, believe in them and actually respond and do them.

I wish, because as a child we grow up fast and are taught to believe and make wishes. I’d rather be taught at a young age that failure is real and relying on others will break you!

I wish, I could stop wishing… I write because this is my release and my way to vent… I can type without being interrupted.

Confidence doesn’t exist in people anymore. Belief in oneself is a missing trait and because of that most work is incomplete or incorrect.

My final wish is to see an influx in solid, confident and skilled workers who accept accountability and put the business first before online shopping, family matters, chatting up strangers and friends and ignoring phone calls.

It’s all wishful thinking, not because I don’t think people exist out there who do the job right, but because I don’t think many people out there actually care…..

Building Culture or Tearing It Down

“A man’s character isn’t measured by the job he has, but by how well he does the job in front of him.”

There’s a silent problem happening in a lot of workplaces today, and most people don’t even realize it’s happening.

It’s not bad management. It’s not low wages. It’s not even the economy.

It’s culture.

And culture isn’t created by mission statements, motivational posters, or manager speeches. Culture is created by what people are willing to do… and what they refuse to do.

In today’s society, too many people believe certain work is beneath them.

The janitor is treated differently than the CEO.

The dishwasher is overlooked while the chef gets the praise.

The person sweeping the floor is invisible to the person signing the checks.

But here’s the truth most people miss:

The tedious work is what keeps everything running. Floors have to be swept. Bathrooms have to be cleaned. Equipment has to be wiped down. Prep has to be done. Trash has to be taken out.

These aren’t glamorous jobs. No one brags about them. But without them, businesses fall apart faster than people realize.

You can have the best leadership, the best product, and the best marketing in the world… but if the little things stop getting done, the entire operation slowly starts to decay.

I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count.

The Family Business Trap

In family-run businesses, there’s another problem that quietly develops.

When employees don’t do the small jobs, the family steps in and does them.

The owners start to clean, wipe and pick up, where employees don’t.

Someone stays late or comes in on closed days to clean and prep what should have been done during a shift.

At first, it seems like the responsible thing to do. You care about the business, so you pick up the slack. But over time, something dangerous happens.

Employees learn a lesson without anyone saying a word:

“If we don’t do it… the family will.”

And just like that, culture starts rebranding itself.

Not because employees are bad people, but because standards are no longer enforced. The invisible work always gets done… just not by the people who were supposed to do it.

The “That’s Not My Job” Mentality

One of the biggest cultural shifts I’ve seen over the years is the rise of the phrase:

“That’s not my job.”

When people start deciding which tasks are “beneath” them, the entire system breaks down.

Successful teams…. whether in sports, the military, or business, all share one common mindset:

Everyone handles the small stuff.

The small tasks are not punishment.

They are the foundation.

When the small things are handled well, the big things become easier. But when the small things are ignored, the big things start falling apart.

Pride in the Work

Some of the best workers I’ve ever known weren’t the ones with the biggest titles.

They were the ones who took pride in whatever task they were given.

Mopping restrooms? Dusting shelves. Raking yards. Shoveling walkways.

They made sure it was all perfect and spotless. They didn’t leave a trail behind them.

It wasn’t about the job itself. It was about pride in doing something well.

That kind of mindset is rare today… but when you find it, it changes everything.

Culture Is Built Through Standards

Here’s the reality most owners eventually learn:

Motivation doesn’t build culture. Standards do. Clear expectations. Accountability. Consistency.

Not speeches. Not slogans. Not empty promises.

If the soda gun needs cleaned, it gets cleaned.

If the floor needs swept, it gets swept.

If the fryer needs scrubbed, it gets scrubbed.

And when it’s someone’s responsibility, they own it. Not tomorrow. Not when someone reminds them.

Right now.

The Hard Truth

When a business starts struggling with culture, it’s easy to blame employees.

But the truth is a little more uncomfortable.

Culture is built or destroyed by what leadership allows.

If the small jobs are constantly ignored and someone else quietly fixes them later, the standard slowly disappears.

People don’t rise to unspoken expectations. They rise to enforced ones.

Respect the Broom

A workplace becomes a stronger place to work when people respect every job, from sweeping the floor to running the company. Because when people take pride in the small things, the big things take care of themselves.

But when the small things are ignored, the entire system begins to crack.

Culture isn’t built by titles.

Culture is built by the willingness to do the work that no one else wants to do.

And sometimes the most important tool in any business isn’t the computer, the fryer, or the cash register.

It’s the hands that hold the mop.

Being “Nice” Is the Most Expensive Mistake in Business

The biggest mistake you can make in business is being nice to employees.

Some people need discipline. Some people need to be fired. And pretending otherwise is how small businesses bleed out slowly.

Post-COVID didn’t just disrupt industries, it rewired work ethic. And small businesses are paying the price for government policies that rewarded not working while punishing those who kept showing up.

You can explain expectations until you’re blue in the face. You can train, retrain, document, demonstrate, and remind. And still…. people just won’t do what’s required. They’ll do the bare minimum and convince themselves that it’s “enough.”

Meanwhile, business owners are handcuffed.

• Food specials? Forget it — cooks “can’t handle” the extra.

• Drink specials? Forget it — servers don’t want to promote anything new.

• Responsibilities and accountability? Forget it — that’s suddenly “too much.”

We survived COVID. Despite shutdowns. Despite losing half our staff. Despite every attempt to pull the rug out from under us. We made it with what we had.

And now?

What we’re left with is an employee pool that’s lazy, disengaged, and painfully lackluster.

People love to say, “You can only go up from here.”

I disagree. When you’ve been stuck at the bottom long enough, sometimes the only way forward is to bail out and find a new starting point.

Between rising rent, food shortages, delivery delays, missed orders, and the added burden placed on owners because employees simply don’t care, it’s enough to make any sane person walk away.

But here I am. Circling the eddy. No paddle. Going down with the ship. Because that’s what captains do. Because we all know sanity isn’t my strong suit!

The Restaurant You See vs. The Restaurant We Run

If you’ve never worked in a restaurant, I get it. From the outside, it looks simple.

You walk in. You order. You eat.

If something is unavailable, the conclusion is quick and confident: “Someone screwed up.”

But that assumption lives in the same fantasy land as thinking grocery stores magically refill themselves overnight and food appears because you wanted it.

Let me pull the curtain back a little. What Customers See

A menu.

A bar.

A kitchen.

A wait time.

If we sell out of something, especially wings, the reaction is often immediate and personal. Somehow, a business decision becomes a moral failure. Suddenly, we “suck.”

Restaurants are not vending machines. They are controlled chaos. Every single day involves:

Forecasting demand without a crystal ball. Ordering product days in advance. Managing limited cooler and freezer space. Balancing food waste vs. sell-outs. Staffing humans (not robots). Navigating deliveries that are late, short, or wrong. Following food safety laws that do not bend to feelings.

We don’t order infinite food because over-ordering doesn’t make customers happier, it puts restaurants out of business.

Let’s Talk Wings

Just Friday and Saturday this week we sold 840 pounds of wings.

That’s roughly 6700+ individual wings.

That’s not a “we forgot to order” problem. That’s a you all showed up hungry in unreasonable numbers situation.

Selling out isn’t failure. It’s demand outpacing expectation. And before anyone says, “Just make more”, that’s not how food, physics, or reality work.

Why “Just Make More” Isn’t a Thing.

Food takes time to prep. Deliveries don’t teleport. Staff doesn’t magically multiply. Kitchen space and equipment are limited. Health codes exist. Storage space is finite.

If restaurants stocked for maximum possible demand every single day, most would close within a month due to waste alone.

The Part No One Thinks About. When someone calls a restaurant and says “you suck,” they aren’t yelling at a corporation.

They’re yelling at: A server who had nothing to do with ordering. A cook who’s already working a double. A manager solving 20 problems at once. A team doing their best in a high-stress environment.

Restaurants are run by people. Real ones. Not punching bags for frustration.

A Little Perspective Goes a Long Way. You don’t need to work in a restaurant to enjoy one. But understanding the reality behind the scenes?

That makes you a better customer, and honestly, a better human.

If we sold out, it means you loved it. And if you loved it enough to be mad? We’ll take that as a compliment.

We’ll make more. You’ll be back. And next time, maybe lead with patience instead of insults.

“Who Has the Best Wings?” “Why Are We Still Asking This?”

Okay, social media, we need to talk. There’s one question that pops up in the Ohio Valley more often than someone asking if they can “borrow your charger”

“Where do I get the best wings?”

First off… why are you like this? What are you even hoping to get out of this post? Enlightenment? A mystical wing prophecy? No. You’re just here to watch chaos unfold, and let me tell you—it does.

Here’s the deal: wings are personal. They are sacred. They are the culinary version of your high school diary. And yet, every few months, some keyboard warrior posts the question like it’s going to solve world peace. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Look, I own Basil’s, so naturally, I’m going to say our wings are insanely good. Maybe top 5 in the valley? Top 1 if you like them cooked perfectly, sauced just right, and served with a side of love. But let’s be real, some places have flavor bombs but soggy wings, others have perfectly cooked wings with sauce that tastes like bottled sadness. There’s no “best.” There’s just your best.

Then I open Facebook… and it’s an apocalypse. 500 comments. Groups of 50 people forming little armies defending their favorite wings like it’s the Super Bowl. Drums vs flats. Fried vs baked. Mild vs “I like to cry internally.” And what do we get at the end? Nothing. Except a lot of anger, some insults, and a serious case of carpal tunnel from all that typing.

So, please. Just… stop. Enjoy the wings you like. Respect that your neighbor likes theirs differently. And maybe, just maybe, spend your energy on something more productive…. like figuring out why you eat 16 wings in one sitting or why you still post on Facebook in 2026.

Social media wing polls? Toxic. Drama-filled. Exhausting. And honestly, hilarious if you like people yelling at each other over fried chicken.

When “Not a Good Fit” Really Means “I Didn’t Want to Work”

Owning a business means hearing the same story on repeat.

“Why’d you leave your last job?”

“It wasn’t a good fit.” “The environment was toxic.” “Management wasn’t great.”

Funny how everyone worked in a nightmare… yet somehow those businesses are still open.

Meanwhile, I look around at my own place and watch my dad, my sister, and myself doing jobs that, anywhere else would be the employee’s responsibility. Cleaning. Stocking. Fixing. Resetting. Closing gaps. Picking up slack.

Not here though. Here, we just do it all.

Why? Because we bought into that dangerous little saying: “If you want it done right, do it yourself.”

We didn’t start this way. We trained. And trained again. We wrote memos. We made checklists.

We re-trained, re-explained, re-reminded. And what do we get?

A few people standing around chatting.

Scrolling phones.

Waiting to be told.

Waiting for someone else to care.

I suppose if we actually held people accountable, if we made everyone do their job, our place wouldn’t be “a good fit” either. Maybe it would suddenly become “toxic” too.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth:

This problem exists because we allow it. Not because we’re bad people. Not because we don’t care. But because somewhere along the way, we confused being understanding with being responsible for everything.

So now the real question isn’t about them. It’s this: How long can we sustain the long hours, the constant coverage, doing other people’s jobs and trying to run the business?

How long before burnout becomes the business model?

Only time will tell.

And right now… I’m not convinced it has good news.

When Everybody’s Here But Nobody’s All In

Today, if employees show up for a shift, owners call it a win. But winning the attendance lottery isn’t the same as having a crew that actually works.

Restaurants are short-handed everywhere, and that used to mean one thing: more money for the people who showed up ready to hustle. Now? “Short-handed” too often equals “one-dimensional” employees.

Example: no dishwasher tonight. A line cook jumps in to wash dishes, great… except now they’re unavailable to run the line. The kitchen stops being a machine and becomes a series of improvisations. ONE DIMENSIONAL.

If everyone understood teamwork, really understood “get-shit-done” and helped each other, the kitchen would hum. But I’ve watched us try to teach teamwork for more than a decade. I’m past “train more.” We’ve trained. We’ve written memos. We’ve spoken one-on-one. We’ve followed up. Some of these folks have been here 11 years and came from corporate gigs where micromanaging was normal operation. This is not ignorance.

So what is it? Defiance? Laziness? A refusal to care? I don’t know. What I do know is this: I can control me. I can control expectations and consequences. I can’t control someone else’s choices … but I can decide whether those choices keep a job.

This business will survive. We’ll be short for a season, we’ll hire, and we’ll rebuild standards. But there has to be accountability. We need to implement a demerit system: three documented failures to perform essential tasks and you’re out. No drama, no opinion, just standards, enforced.

If you care about your job, show it. Restock the line. Put the next shift in a better position than you found it. Teamwork isn’t a warm, fuzzy idea, it’s the difference between a smooth service and chaos at 7 p.m.

We can keep doing the same thing and expect different results. I’m not that hopeful, or insane. I’m that done. Time for consequences.

Positivity Posts and the Reality of Running a Business

Every morning starts the same: I grab my coffee, scroll through social media, and like clockwork, LinkedIn hits me with a wall of motivational posts. You know the ones: “Hire people you can learn from!” or “Don’t micromanage, trust your team!”

At first, it feels inspiring. Those bright graphics, powerful quotes, and feel-good fliers promise a world where leadership is effortless and teams run like well-oiled machines. But then I pause and ask myself…. what does it really mean?

Because here’s the truth: you can post all the “how to be the best leader” quotes you want, but how does a business grow when no one’s applying for the jobs? And worse, what do you do when the people you do have need constant hand-holding just to keep things on track?

I’ve tried it all. I’ve trusted. I’ve encouraged creativity. I’ve stepped back to let people shine. And more times than not, it’s backfired. The meltdowns, the costly mistakes, the inability to handle adversity alone… they’ve all landed squarely on my desk.

I think back to when I lived down south, scrambling for a place to stay after my roommates left post-hurricane. A boss took me in… let me stay in her garage apartment just so I could keep working. I showed up every day, hungry to learn. Then there was the boss who taught me everything I know about restaurants and bars. He didn’t see a lost, rebellious kid, he saw potential. And he bet on me.

That’s the kind of leadership I remember. The kind that invests in people, not just platitudes. This is the kind of leader I want to be.

So, when is enough enough with all the motivational fluff?

Where are the real posts, the ones that admit no one’s applying, that training feels like Groundhog Day, and that micromanaging isn’t about control, it’s about survival?

Until I see those, I’ll keep scrolling past the positivity posts, knowing that, in the real world, hope doesn’t run your business. Hustle does.