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.

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.

Sundays Are For Family, Not Fryers

Owning a restaurant isn’t just a job, it’s a lifestyle. It’s long hours, late nights, endless hustle, and pouring everything you’ve got into feeding your community. My family and I have been doing exactly that for years. Before COVID hit, we were open Monday through Saturday, taking only Sundays off.

Why? Because Sundays have always been sacred for us. Growing up, my family gathered for Sunday dinner every week. Now, with loved ones gone and the rest of us getting older, those dinners mean even more. We eat, we relax, they watch their teams play… me? I tap out of the NFL but we don’t take a second of it for granted.

But here’s the kicker: after COVID, staffing became a nightmare. We’re not alone, ask any small business owner. So we decided to close on Mondays too. A five-day work week gives us the breathing room to survive in business and still live a little outside of it.

Cue the social media outrage.

The “keyboard quarterbacks” come out in full force: “Why aren’t you open on Sundays?! Don’t you know that’s football day?! We want wings!”

Listen, we tried it. We actually opened on Sundays for an entire NFL season. You know who showed up? Crickets and employees. You know what didn’t show up? Profits and customers. We spent more on labor and overhead than we made in sales.

So here’s the truth:

If you’re not filling the seats, your opinion about our hours doesn’t hold much weight. And if you think restaurant owners don’t deserve a day off, maybe it’s time to flip the script…. how would you feel if your boss asked you to work every Sunday for nothing?

At the end of the day, Sundays belong to family. Ours and yours. So plead, beg, post your angry comments, it won’t change a thing. The answer will always be the same: Sundays are for family. Not fryers.

The Greatest Innovation Happens From Iteration

“The greatest innovation happens from iteration.” – Jesse Cole, Savannah Bananas

Jesse Cole didn’t reinvent baseball with one big idea. He did it by trying, failing, tweaking, and trying again, over and over, until the Savannah Bananas became the phenomenon they are today. And that’s a lesson that resonates far beyond the ballpark.

At Basil’s, it’s the same story. Nothing we do lands perfectly on the first try. Some of the best things on our menu were born from long nights in the kitchen, too much caffeine, and a few batches of wing sauce that should’ve been labeled “hazardous materials.” That soup recipe everyone raves about? It didn’t just happen…. it was stirred, tested, adjusted, and cursed at until it finally tasted like comfort in a bowl.

Failure Is the Seasoning of Success

We all love the idea of getting it right on the first swing, but truth is, success tastes a lot like failure, you just have to keep seasoning it until it works. Every burned batch, every half-baked idea, every “nope, not that one” gets us closer to the version that sticks.

But here’s the part nobody talks about: even the greatest recipe won’t succeed if your team isn’t bought in.

Teams Win, Not Individuals

The Savannah Bananas aren’t just Jesse Cole’s vision, they’re a whole team of players who believe in that vision enough to put on a show every single game. Same goes for Basil’s. I can spend hours perfecting sauces, writing menus, or tweaking specials, but if the people behind the bar, in the kitchen, and on the floor don’t share the dream, then the whole thing falls flat.

You can’t build lasting success without buy-in. Employees, just like players, have to believe in the direction, trust the playbook, and feel like they’re part of the bigger picture. Without that, success isn’t just harder…. it’s nearly impossible.

Iteration Never Ends

That’s the beautiful part: iteration isn’t a stage you finish, it’s the process itself. Whether it’s food, service, or team culture, we’re constantly reworking, improving, and adapting. Some days it feels like two steps forward, one step back. But as long as we keep moving, the dream keeps building.

The Bananas proved you can rewrite the rules of baseball. We’re proving every day at Basil’s that you can rewrite the rules of what a sports bar can be. It just takes iteration, belief, and a team willing to swing at every pitch, even the wild ones.

So yeah, the greatest innovation happens from iteration. And around here, that means late nights, bold flavors, and a crew that shows up ready to win together. The only attitude is a positive attitude and buy-in requires a real effort not lazy individualization.

ADEQUATE HELP

Working in chaos? That’s supposed to be fun. Embrace the suck, find your rhythm, and grind it out. Me? I love it. When I first started out, I fed off the energy of the people around me. The pace, the noise, the hustle…. it fueled me.

But today’s workforce? Man, it feels different. Too many can’t (or won’t) handle the grind. My energy is up, I’m ready to roll, but I look around and see folks ducking out, dragging their feet, or worse, glued to their phones.

Here’s the deal: I don’t ask for much. I don’t expect perfection. What I do expect is your full effort while you’re on the clock. Not texting. Not scrolling Facebook. Not hiding out in the walk-in cooler like it’s a safehouse from reality. Your presence is demanded five days a week…

For the few hours you’re here, I’m asking for one thing: give me your 100%. Respect the job. Respect the team. Respect yourself.

Adequate help, that’s it. Not superhuman. Not perfection. Just show up, give your best, and make the grind easier instead of harder. Because when everyone’s locked in? That chaos becomes rhythm. And that rhythm? That’s where the magic happens.

The Human Supercomputer: Why Business Ownership Is Draining the Life Out of Me

Let’s talk about it, because someone needs to, and I’m tired of pretending that being a business owner is just inspirational quotes and Instagram flexes.

Owning a business isn’t just “being your own boss.” No. It’s being everyone’s boss. It’s waking up every day knowing you’re the central nervous system of the entire damn operation. You’re the human supercomputer that keeps the lights on, the wheels turning, the kitchen from burning down, and everyone’s paychecks from bouncing like bad decisions on a Saturday night.

And the mental load? Crippling.

My life has been put on hold. Personal goals? Paused. Hobbies? What are those? Relationships? Let’s just say I’ve ghosted myself. I’m too busy being the brain for a crew of people who somehow forgot how to use theirs.

It’s not that they’re incapable, it’s that the expectation has shifted. Somewhere along the way, leadership turned into babysitting. Problem-solving turned into hand-holding. And critical thinking? That’s now considered a bonus skill instead of a baseline requirement.

Here’s the thing: I want to empower people. I want a team that thinks, acts, and thrives independently. But what I’ve got is a daily game of 21 Questions just to get someone to wipe down a counter or remember to show up with both socks on. I’m not running a restaurant, I’m running a crash course in life skills.

And it’s exhausting.

It’s not burnout, it’s brain-drain. I am over being the answer to every problem, the fixer of every fire, the one who’s expected to carry the mental load like it’s part of the damn job description. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

So why can’t people figure shit out?

Because we’ve trained them not to. We’ve stepped in, stepped up, and over-functioned for so long that under-functioning became the norm. And now we’re stuck in this cycle of learned helplessness, where your staff treats every shift like they just got dropped off on their first day of Earth.

And the worst part? You’re not allowed to break. You’re the boss. You’re the foundation. You’re the one who has to smile through it, make payroll, deal with vendors, answer emails, answer reviews, be the plumber, electrician and general maintenance man and still be “positive leadership energy.”

But here’s the honest truth: leadership without support is a slow death. And no, that’s not dramatic, it’s data-backed emotional burnout in real time.

So what’s the answer?

Boundaries. Delegation. And a good ol’ fashioned revolution in how we train, trust, and expect our people to rise the hell up. If they don’t? They get replaced. Not because you’re cruel, but because you’re human. The alternative, maybe it’s time to not replace the bad, maybe it’s time to replace me.

This blog isn’t a pity party. It’s a wake-up call. For me. For every other business owner out there who’s silently drowning in everyone else’s chaos.

I’m done being the supercomputer. If you’re on my team, it’s time you start thinking for yourself. Because this machine needs a reboot—and a damn vacation or at least a night out with my wife where neither of us have to be the extra help!

Today, Management is Off the Clock

In eleven years of owning this business, I’ve learned one cold, hard truth:

No one cares when the boss complains.

Employees can call off, ghost a shift, quit mid-rush, and somehow, the world keeps turning. But me? I don’t get that luxury. I’ve got to show up, cover the fallout, and keep the wheels turning, because if I don’t, who will?

This rant? Oh, it’s familiar. Because nothing changes.

The complainers keep complaining. The do-nothings keep floating.

And the few of us who actually give a damn? We work. Every damn day.

And I’ve had to face a brutal truth:

I let this happen.

I let the weak stay weak. I tolerated the toxic. I gave second, third, tenth chances. Where I should’ve led, I enabled. Where I should’ve cleaned house, I looked away.

Why? Because I’m a worker. I like to work.

When someone drops the ball, I don’t ask questions, I just grab it and keep moving.

But here’s what that does: it stretches me thin.

It buries me under everyone else’s responsibilities until mine don’t even get touched.

And that’s the real killer of a business.

Not bad sales. Not bad weather.

It’s the owner doing dishes instead of running the damn place.

So today? I’m not the manager. I’m not the owner.

I’m the dishwasher.

If you’re looking for someone to solve the staffing crisis or boost morale or prep for the weekend:

That guy’s not here right now.

It’s Tough Being In Charge

Start your own company, be your own boss. It all sounds fantastic and the money you’ll make is great, however, you’ll never have time to spend it or enjoy life the way the picture is painted.

I want what you all have! I want to sleep in, forget to go to work. I want to leave early, not contribute to a shift. I want a raise, but won’t do anything extra to prove myself. I want the freedom to not give a shit, but still collect a pay check. I want all the money with none of the responsibility.

Over the years, I’ve had to cancel and or miss appointments due to my work. I’ve missed out on my kids activities and I’ve put my wife on the back burner because the business has always come first.

Some may say, just go and enjoy life, see your kids, take your wife out. I wish it were that easy. From the simple tasks to the major projects, if I’m not at work, it doesn’t get done. Why have employees? Some are great others are just there. We are going in terms of a restaurant business, just at ten years, I assume we still need to hit some growing pains and figure it out.

I’ve never wanted to be the tough boss, the prick boss, the boss who micromanages everything, however, I’m starting to learn, of if I want my business to survive and grow, then I need to be the tough, micromanaging prick I’ve always tried to avoid.

It’s the unpopular choice, mainly because so many people in the work world now have over sensitive hurt feelings at any given moment. I’ve never asked for much, just that you be present, do the job and don’t waste anyone’s time.

Here’s to another ten years of trying to figure it out! Or maybe here’s to a career change, because unlike others, I can figure it out for my self…