“Manage expectations!”  I shout the words across the server window to Ula as the printer cranks out a ridiculously long list of orders. 

“Managing expectations!”  She calls back calmly, and roller skates away to the table of ten that has just submitted the aforementioned order, which is too big for our tiny kitchen staff of two to crank out all at once.  Ula’s job is to let the guests know this simple fact, which means they cannot expect to receive all their food at the same time.  Her next job is to make sure that anyone who submits an order behind that table of ten understands they will have a bit of a wait.  Expectations managed.  

Managing expectations has become a mantra in our family business.  I’m rather embarrassed at the number of years it took me to learn that trick.  First, to recognize that the kitchen and staff size were too small to prepare ten custom orders at a time.  And second, that there was no need to be apologetic about not being able to meet unreasonably high demands.

Instead, each time a large party came in, Bob and I broke into a sweat.  We stared wide-eyed as the tiny tables got pushed together to make room for the crowd, then trembled in terror at the order as it printed out.  We’d cook in a frenzy, frantically trying to execute each dish perfectly and simultaneously.

Which, of course, would lead to failure:  Eggs ordered over-easy would be cooked hard and lacy, which would have to be tossed to the compost and re-made; home fries got over-cooked, home-fries got under-cooked, side orders were dropped.

While a failure to admit to the general public that we couldn’t crank out a timely ten-person order might seem like over-confidence, I think it was more like a lack of-confidence.  We didn’t understand our skills and resources enough to make a claim on our right to sanity.  So when a demand was made, we hustled to meet it at the expense of ourselves.

Over time, we grew up a little.  We started recognizing that what we were feeling was the pressure a small business feels to perform like a large business.  McDonald’s can put meals in the hands of a busload of hungry soccer players in under twenty minutes.  We’re not equipped for that kind of speed or volume. 

We get that pressure in all kinds of ways in a small family-run business: to match prices, speed, location, hours, variety.

We can drive ourselves crazy (and out of business) trying to meet impossible expectations.  So instead, we’ve learned to manage them: to prepare our customers with what to expect when they do business with us.  Here are a three ways we do this in our line of work:

1. Announce it publicly.  The back cover of our menu reminds customers (and US) that we’re a family first, business second.  That simple fact has implications for our hours, availability, speed and service style.  If customers don’t understand it, they can grow frustrated “Why can’t they be open more hours?”  “I just need my take-out NOW!”  However, when they know we’re a family working together, that this is how we choose to spend our Saturdays, and that we run a farm the rest of the days, the customers relax and enjoy the experience. 
2. Learn the limits and teach them to the team members.  Saoirse and Ula work the front of the house, Bob and I work the back.  We’ve now taught them that the kitchen can typically only crank out four to six meals simultaneously, depending on how many special accommodations each meal requires.  Armed with that information, the girls are equipped to let customers know what to expect quickly.  Confidence isn’t about agreeing to do everything the customer wants.  It’s about knowing what’s reasonable to expect and communicating it.
3. Always tell people what you can do.  We’ve taught our kids never to leave a conversation with “Sorry, we can’t help you.”  (Unless it’s a troublesome customer that must be gotten rid of…Yes.  We get those from time to time.)  Otherwise, if we’re sold out of whole chickens, we remind customers that we still have chicken parts in stock.  If we’re sold out of bacon, we let them know we still have breakfast sausage.  If it’s the end of the day and the kitchen is closed for cleaning, a customer can still get a coffee and a pastry.  

The same holds true for the party of ten.  We can’t get all those plates of food out at one time, but Ula reminds them of all the things they can do while waiting to eat: relax, enjoy some extended conversation, visit with the rest of the customers, enjoy not being rushed. 

Because, in the end, no business can be all things to all people.  The difference between an irate customer and a satisfied one comes down to whether or not the business can meet their expectations.  So it’s prudent to teach customers right from the get-go what those expectations should be. When we remember that , we can stop apologizing for what we aren’t, and instead focus on what we are: a small business, dedicated to using our presence to make the world a better place.

The Hearth of Sap Bush Hollow podcast happens with the support of my patrons on Patreon.  And this week I’d like to send a shout out to my patrons Meredith Eilers & Melissa Lines.

Thank you, folks!  I couldn’t do it without you!  If you’d like to help support my work, you can do so for as little as $1/month by hopping over to Patreon and looking up Shannon Hayes.