Boston’s beloved Trina’s Starlite Lounge, a restaurant I worked at years ago, recently celebrated its 10-year anniversary. Ten years may not seem like much on the surface, but according to a Restaurant Brokers’ study, 90% of non-chain restaurants close within their first year of operation. The ones that make it past that threshold have an average lifespan of just five years.
So, a decade—a blink of an eye of our lives—is more than double what even successful restaurants stay alive for. Ten years is an eternity in this business. I have remarkable memories of the building, both as an employee and a customer. I always thought to myself that the way they operated was everything that was right about the industry. Guests have obviously felt the same, as the little bar that could is now the flagship of a burgeoning restaurant group, acclaimed by critics and customers alike.
By no means is their approach to ownership a one-size fits all, skeleton key, or Rosetta Stone answer to how to survive in the harsh environment of this industry -- but it works for them. While the specifics may need to be tweaked to fit your circumstances, there are broader strokes here for you to fill in your own details.
Treating Restaurant Staff Like Family
Employee turnover is one of the most difficult facets of running a restaurant. Your cooks and servers, in particular, are mercenaries at heart. It may seem crass to think of them like that, but I speak from experience. My 10 years in the business were scattered over eight different venues. Hourly workers can often be painfully aware of how replaceable they are, so when a better opportunity presents itself, it’s not unreasonable for them to take it.
Obviously, financial considerations are usually at the forefront of an employee’s mind, but there are other ways to keep them on board. It can sound disingenuous, but when your employees feel like family, they’ll repay your loyalty. I would find myself coming in early for nearly every shift so I could take time to talk with the owners. Sometimes it would be to pick their brains about some nugget of wisdom they’d picked up in their experience. More often than not, it would be just to chat about our families, sports, or what TV shows we were watching. Those conversations build real relationships that help the restaurant’s teamwork in ways that money cannot.
The Owners Work in the Trenches
The owners—being veterans of the industry themselves—knew that there’s no room for ego in a business where your margins are thinner than the edges of your chef’s knives. Any money spent on repairs, maintenance, and extra staff would come directly from their pockets. If you’re not willing to scrub, spackle, and paint on your own, you can watch your money fly right out the door.
If the owners are in the building every day, changing light bulbs, cleaning draft lines, running food, it makes it real, not just a cliché. Every day I clocked into work, a member of the ownership group was there, without fail, taking care of tasks large and small. Seeing the people that sign your checks willing to jump into the trenches and put in the work doesn’t just bring your team closer together, it pads the bottom line.
Truly Caring About Guests
When it comes to family, a genius stroke of Trina’s was to extend that same courtesy to its clientele. Of course, it’s easier to do in a smaller, intimate setting, but regardless of the size of your shop, service is king. Anybody can make a fancy cocktail and call themselves a mixologist, but guests don’t come back to mixologists. A true bartender -- one that greets you immediately with a glass of water and an opening to a conversation -- is what keeps a customer coming back time after time.
That guiding principle was the centerpiece of the restaurant’s approach to customer service. Know your guests’ names, learn about them as people, care about their lives. That’s how you keep the same people coming in once a week or more for a decade.
In fact, it’s what inspired me to work there in the first place.
I had been working an absolute soul-crusher of a job on the opposite side of the city, but any time I had the chance I would pop into see my future employers. I was able to unload all the stress of my daily grind on someone who I still consider to be the world’s greatest bartender and felt truly listened to. I may have come in for a shot of Fernet and a Manhattan, but I stayed for the empathy and understanding. When I finally found myself able to leave my dreary, disheartening sous chef job, the first call I made was to that same bartender.
Two weeks later I was home.
It all sounds simple, doesn’t it? Work together, put in the effort yourself, and care about people. These are things we learn in grade school. It’s a recipe not just for success, but for basic human kindness. Yes, the restaurant world is ultra-competitive, and many just can’t cut it. We spend countless hours coming up with these extraordinary ideas, when really, a little simplicity goes much further.
