restaurant long after the operation has gone under, killing any who
follow. The cumulative vibe of a history of failed restaurants can infect
an address year after year, even in an otherwise bustling neighborhood.
You can see it when passersby peer into the front window of the next
operator; there's a scowl, a look of suspicion, as if they are afraid of
contamination.
Of course there are many, many operators who do well in the restaurant
business, who know what they're doing. They know from the get-go what
they want, what they are capable of doing well, and exactly how much
it's going to cost them at the outset. Most important, they have a fixed
idea of how long they're willing to lose money before they pull the plug.
Like professional gamblers, a slick restaurateur never changes his
betting style. He doesn't bother with magic bullets, changing pricing
strategies or menu concepts. With steely resolve, a pro, in the face of
adversity, will suck it up and redouble his efforts to make the restaurant
what he wanted and planned it to be all along—hoping that the great
unwashed will eventually discover it, trust it, learn to love it. These guys
know that when you hit the panic button and call in the consultants (read:
unemployable chefs, failed restaurateurs who still like to eat for free), or
start taking austerity measures like combining waiter/bartender
functions on slow lunches—or worst of all, closing early—that they may
as well close the doors for good: it's just good money after bad. A smart
operator will, when he realizes things haven't worked out, fold up his
tent and move on—before he's knocked out of the game for good. One
disastrous restaurant venture can drag down an entire string of successful
ones, as I have seen many times.
These knuckleheads are even less easy to explain than the novice owner
with a hard-on for waitron nookie. Proven operators, guys with two or
three or even more thriving restaurants, guys who've already beaten the
odds, who have had and still have successful money-making joints,
spitting out dough—what makes these guys over-reach? Often, the
original flagship operation is a simple, straightforward concept: a bar