Daydream believers

I was trading air-guitar licks the other day with Bluto Pilkbean, the imaginary childhood friend who helped me invent the flying car and a way of extracting super-human strength from Twizzlers. He’s recently made a name for himself in the fanciful field that’s filled many a restaurateur’s daydreams of late, the silver bullet.

“Pilkbean,” I said after we’d decided not to take the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models to dinner, “do you really buy this malarkey? So many things are stacked against the industry that all the experts are calling this a perfect storm. An operation is going to soar out of hell just by adding sliders or upgrading its coffee?”

“This from the person who believed he could obliterate all homework by electrifying Silly Putty,” he retorted. “Besides, you’re forgetting that most adapters combine the magic pills. McDonald’s is focusing on breakfast and beverages. Taco Bell is embracing cheap-o deals and new drinks and breakfast. Applebee’s is not only touting sliders and bargain-rate lunches, but also inviting customers to submit videos for a new campaign. It’s a matter of mucho mojo, mi compadre.” Pilkbean had never been quite the same since the trip to Tijuana.

“Who cares if you offer five or 50?,” I responded. “What does it get you other than one turn of consumers’ heads?”

“A point of differentiation.”

“For how long? If these killer plays do anything, everyone and their cousin copycats ‘em. It’ll be curbside takeaway or the Bloomin’ Onion all over again.” I looked to see if he was reaching for his combination death ray pistol/Pez dispenser, because I had him now.

“There’s always something new,” he noted calmly.

“Such as?”

“Well, right now some fast-casual chains are adding table service. All kinds of concepts are giving away food to bolster traffic. Eat ‘n Park and Chipotle are supposedly looking to use more local ingredients. Red Lobster just announced that it’ll give space on the menu to a dish created during one of those cooking-contest shows.”

“Isn’t that exactly what Friday’s did?”

“Well…maybe. But there’s talk of going even farther afield. Some concepts are talking about radical steps like upgrading service, renovating dining rooms, or”—he actually shivered at this point—“trying to hire and retain the best employees. Gives you goose bumps, doesn’t it?”

“You’re an idiot,” I assured. “Now let’s get back to work on our Red Sox immobilization spray.”

Where have you gone, Joe Lee?

Casual dining has never needed Joe Lee as much as it has in the last few weeks.

It’s not as if the former Darden Restaurants CEO has some superhero ability to yank the sector, a market he helped to create, out of its current blues jam. But his 40 years or so in the business gave him a perspective, a wise-man-on-the-mountain sagacity, that most of today’s standout executives have yet to cultivate. They stand in front of shareholders, analysts or employees and spout assurances the company’s recovery plan will work. After all, they somberly assert, we have the best concept, the best people, the best food, the best investors, the best corporate mission statement.

Yet they seem more than a little shaken themselves. You expect some to reach inside their suit-jacket pocket, take a quick nip from a flask, and resume with the platitudes.

Joe, as proper a man as ever worked in the industry, would stand up there and draw his share of arrows from financial analysts who wanted better returns for their institutional customers. Yet even during the most blistering times, he would calmly explain that the sector was in a downturn, that it’s been in downturns before, and that it’ll be in downturns again. He’d seen it two or three times in his career, and each time casual dining snapped back to be stronger than ever.

No one in the room could doubt it because most of them hadn’t lived as long as Joe had run the New York Yankees of casual dining. This was the guy who managed the first Red Lobster, back before there was a T.G.I. Friday’s, a Chili’s, an Applebee’s, an Outback or a Ruby Tuesday. And who could challenge a man who’d left the market only once since then, to work at the top of Red Lobster’s then-parent, a little multinational called General Mills.

The footnotes to his message were clear: There’s no need to cash out to a private equity firm, jump to a new market position, clean out your “C”-level officers, fire the ad agency, or even rewrite the mission statement. Instead, execute well, seize the opportunities that may be afforded by the players who fail to executive well, and ride it out.

No doubt the current freefall in casual dining is going to eliminate some weaker brands. But the sector as a whole?

Tell ‘em, Joe.