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Waffle
House Economics
by
Doug French
Recently
by Doug French: The
Higher-Education Bubble Has Popped
Imagine the
good fortune of having a Waffle House within walking distance of
home and the office. Yes, Waffle House number 1882 is one of the
newest in the chain of over 1,600 stores. Strategically located
within stumbling distance of Auburn's downtown college bars, it's
attracted some of the most decorated wait staff in the chain.
On a sultry
mid-morning trip to the restaurant, I noticed that my server's name
tag was cluttered with gold pens and a red star. When asked what
it takes to get a red star, Andrea said, "Oh, it just means
I can train people." The gold pins? "I've been here a
long time," she said, before turning to the shift manager,
asking if they could please turn up the air. "Even the customers
are complaining," she said in a low but authoritative tone.
The food chain
is ubiquitous in the South. Its buildings are tiny, while its signs
are tall and impossible to miss in bright yellow with black letters.
The menu is as uncomplicated as the building. Likely the hash-browns
capital of the world, there is nothing pretentious about the Waffle
House. The restaurant welcomes a diverse clientele of, not only
happy families and young lovers, but also the lonely, the deranged,
and especially the intoxicated.
The 9 p.m.7
a.m. third shift does three quarters the business of the traditional
first shift, which includes both the normal breakfast and lunch
hours. In Waffle
Street: The Confession & Rehabilitation of a Financier,
James Adams writes,
At 2:30
A.M., the restaurant doors explode. Within fifteen minutes, sixty
barflies and club hoppers occupy a diner with seating capacity
for only forty-two persons. I and two other harried servers struggle
to placate them as they drunkenly clamor for service. Plunging
into the maelstrom, I ask myself which part of my job description
contains the phrases "crowd control" and "hangover
mitigation."
Adams was no
veteran when given the third-shift opportunity. He had only been
on the job at Waffle House for a few weeks. His Chartered Financial
Analyst designation and MBA provided scant seasoning for the assignment.
The five years as an investment analyst for a couple of life-insurance
companies were no help. Neither was his most recent job of providing
"verbal and written commentary on the performance of forty
bond portfolios whose strategies covered nearly everything under
the sun" for a company he refers to as "Alpha Managers."
One look at
the book's cover featuring a plated waffle atop the financial pages
makes a reader want to dive in. And the author doesn't disappoint.
The author's Waffle House work experience is fun and interesting,
but that's not all the book has to offer. Adams frequently digresses
and teaches some sound economic principles.
Adams is a
devotee of Jean Baptise Say. His reference list includes not only
Say's Treatise
on Political Economy but Murray Rothbard's Classical
Economics: An Austrian Perspective on the History of Economic Thought,
Ron Paul's End
the Fed, Tom Woods's Meltdown,
as well as titles by Henry Hazlitt and one of this year's featured
ASC speakers, Steven Kates.
The author
provides a good explanation of fractionalized banking and also examines
the chain of debts within the shadow-banking system. The cause of
the 2008 financial crack-up becomes very clear as Adams lays out
layer upon layer of debt chasing inflated asset values, piled upon
a miniscule amount of capital.
A short history
of the Waffle House chain, started by Joe Rogers Sr. and Tom Forkner
in Avondale Estates, Georgia, is provided. The company began franchising
its restaurants in 1960, and Waffle House remains privately held,
never succumbing to Wall Street's siren song of a public offering.
Annual sales
figures are not public, but the company claims to serve two percent
of all eggs used in the industry, and is the world's leading seller
of T-bone steaks at over 10,000 per day. Waffle House servers earn
around $15 per hour, with all but $2.13 paid by customer's tips.
Adams's story
is as much about his mentor, master grill operator Edward Jarvis,
as it is about him. Edward, like many of Adams's coworkers, is an
ex-con, but "was leagues brighter than anyone else in the store,"
Adams explains, and, as a "relief manager," Edward was
trusted to change out the cash drawers at the end of each shift.
Waffle House
is not only the eatery of last resort after hours, but, for many
coming out of prison, the restaurant chain is one employer that
provides a second chance in life.
Edward's common
sense and management style are quickly displayed.
"If
you're so good at abstract thinkin'," Edward said, "Did
you see the big crash coming?"
"I
expected a slowdown, but not necessarily a crash."
"Is
that a yes or a no?"
"No,
I guess not, Edward."
He directed
me to follow him to a booth that had recently been vacated.
"Can
you see all these syrup stains?" he asked, pointing to the
table.
"Yes."
"Outstanding.
Even though you can't find anything else in the store, you're
still more valuable in here than you were at your last job. Now
grab a wet towel and get to it."
Anyone dining
at Waffle House notices there are no computers to communicate orders
to the cooks or calculate customer checks. Servers call their orders
verbally in a specific manner from a specific spot on the floor.
Servers first tell the grill operators to "PULL" the proper
number of meat items to fill their order. Next, grill operators
are told to "DROP" the hash brown orders, and lastly "MARK"
indicates the particulars of each dish.
The cook
marks the plates using a proprietary system wherein condiment
packets represent meat and eggs. Mayonnaise indicates bacon or
sausage, depending on its position; ketchup signifies a cheesesteak;
a butter cup indicates a T-bone, and so forth. The arrangement
of packets indicates the temperature of the meat and how the eggs
are cooked. Any egg or meat plate not marked for hashbrowns is
assumed to be receiving grits. Waffles are always called last.
Sitting at
one of the four low bar seats on my recent visit, I was able to
watch all of this drama unfold between the bar and the grill. Servers
and grill operators move in a sort of coordinated, chaotic dance
that produces customer orders in rapid succession. No one working
at Waffle House ever just stands around. There are always dishes
to wash, side work to do, and cleanup.
The highly
decorated Andrea had her cheap $5 calculator positioned, precariously
to my thinking, next to a tray of syrup bottles. She is enough of
a veteran to know that, just as sand gets into everything at the
beach, syrup seems to finds its way to unwanted places behind the
counter at Waffle House.
When Adams
is frustrated that someone's calculator keyboard had been compromised
by wayward syrup, he proudly brings in his Hewlett Packard 12c financial
calculator, figuring no one would take it if he left it by the cash
register. Doing average arithmetic on a 12c requires less-than-intuitive
key punching. Besides, none of his coworkers had worked in the finance
industry. He never saw his cherished 12c again after he forgot to
take it home at the end of his shift.
A colorful
cast of characters provides regular entertainment and occasional
annoyance for Adams. There are the Repo Man, the Spy, the Linebacker,
and the eccentric Kathy, who only missed her trips to sip coffee
at Waffle House on days she was undergoing electric-shock treatment.
Adams waits
on plenty of college kids, drunk and sober. He would sober three
enrolled in the MBA program at a nearby university when he let them
know he used to work for the dean of their school at "Alpha
Managers" (per his severance agreement, Adam's can't name the
firm). The three future masters of the universe can't believe a
guy could go from working at a big-time investment firm to waiting
tables at Waffle House.
"A stellar
resume or an MBA degree from a leading institution does not ensure
finding a job in a tumultuous economy," Adams tells the hot
shots, using an ominous tone. "Take a long, hard look at it,"
he says, leaning into one of the students, framing his name tag
between his thumb and forefinger. "In a few more months, it
could have your name on it."
More than once
Adams loses his cool with obnoxious customers. An intoxicated coed
came close to "going algreen on" him. The derivation of
this term comes from an incident when Al
Green's girlfriend hurled a pot of hot grits on the soul singer's
bare back. The resulting third-degree burns caused Green to give
up R&B for the ministry. Waffle House customers are not in the
habit of throwing their grits, but instead consume over three million
pounds each year.
Edward was
always the calming voice of reason during these dust-ups. The grill
master's prison experience taught him not to taunt people, and besides
it wouldn't be acceptable to management if both he and Jimmy were
shot, requiring them to close the store for three or four hours.
"They really hate to close the sto' on account of anything,"
Edward tells Adams after an altercation.
But Adams does
scrap with John Maynard Keynes in the pages of Waffle Street,
lamenting, "How far we've fallen" in the area of economics
education. Pointing out that Say's Treatise was once the top economics
textbook in America, he explains that now, "Instead of learning
sound doctrine, today's undergraduates are inundated with principles
that will not bear the scrutiny of common sense and experience."
Although the
author is generally for free markets, he is sympathetic to the bailouts
and spends entirely too much time beating himself up for working
in the bond industry that fell apart, losing money for investors.
A reading of Rothbard's A
History of Money and Banking in the United States: The Colonial
Era to World War II would benefit the author, who frets
about a shrinking money supply and misinterprets the Jacksonian
and Great Depression eras.
But he is spectacularly
right that "World War II has the distinction of generating
the greatest man made decline in living standards in human history,"
and notes the irony that Andrew Jackson, "the man who despised
fractional reserving and central banks now had his mug on a paper
note issued by a central bank."
Adams learns
plenty on the job. In a rare reflective moment, Edward tells his
protégé why he went to prison; after telling Jimmy
about a robbery and the resulting accidental death, Edward says,
"The main thing I learned in prison was that if you want anything
in this world, you got to work for it in the first place. Greed
will never take you anywhere good."
The
owners of Waffle House make their money the way their employees
do. Hard work. No financial alchemy from the Wall Street wizards.
Just plain old serving the customer what they will trade their dollars
for, watching costs, and growing with retained earnings.
Wall Street
layoff announcements are prevalent this summer. Those laid off should
know: Waffle House is always hiring.
Reprinted
from Mises.org.
August
22, 2011
Doug
French [send him mail]
is president of the Ludwig von Mises
Institute and
the author of Early
Speculative Bubbles & Increases in the Money Supply.
He received the Murray N. Rothbard Award from the Center for Libertarian
Studies. See his tribute to
Murray Rothbard.

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