Restaurants are Labs for Engagement

Remember the little green aliens from Toy Story? They were so cute… and also kind of creepy at the same time. More on those little guys in a minute, but first, let me set the stage.

Years ago, my family adopted a little neighborhood restaurant. It was called “The Other Side.” On one side of the old building was an old-time bar, the main attraction, and on the other side was the restaurant named The Other Side (which was the main attraction for us). We went there once a week, most weeks for years. What made it a favorite? Well, it wasn’t exactly the food. Not that the food was terrible or anything. The prominent defining feature of The Other Side was that it was absolutely averagely adequate in nearly every way. The decor was fine, nothing special. The food was okay, nothing special. The prices were alright, nothing special. But the staff…the staff was different from many other restaurants.

Kelly and Zane owned it, and they would make a point to stop by our table and chat even on busy nights. Bunny was the hostess - she was friendly in a slightly chaotic and frantic way. We watched Matt and Christy, the wait staff, both super friendly, grow up through high school, then college.

Now I’m coming back to those little green aliens. When my son was a toddler, most nights, someone on the staff, Kelly, Bunny, or Matt, would dig quarters out of the cash register and take him to the claw machine.

You know the claw machine, right? “Oooooooohhhh, the claw!!! The claw chooses who will stay and who will gooo!” [Said with a little green alien voice.] That claw machine! It’s the game we’ve all tried where we futilely attempt to pick up a demented-looking stuffed animal with an ineffectual three-pronged mechanical grasping hand that is too weak to hold a feather and too anti-dexterous to grab a large pillow, even if that pillow were put right in its claw. (I looked through my 10,000 photos for one of a claw machine but couldn’t find one, but you know what I mean, right?)

Someone would give my son a quarter and help him steer the claw. It never managed to grasp a single thing, but he thought the experience was nearly magical. He would race back to our table, saying, “I got to steer the claw!” bubbling over joyfully.

When he was nine, we moved. My son didn’t care so much about leaving our little house; he cared about leaving The Other Side. To be honest, I felt the same. About a year later, we heard the restaurant had closed. The owners wanted to try something new. But their small staff had built a community. Last year a few regulars put together a The Other Side reunion party. 

So how does a restaurant that is extremely average in every way become a local favorite for so many people? They leaned into the diner experience. The owners either modeled the behavior they wanted to see or trained their staff, or hired super personable people. Each visit was like heading to your grandmother’s house for Sunday dinner. Friendly, warm, and full of laughs.

Restaurant experiences can teach us a lot about creating great experiences for members, customers, attendees, or clients—any of our stakeholders. Think of your favorite restaurant visits. What did the staff do to make your experience great? How can you reverse engineer these insights and adapt them to your organization?