I was once part of a company that eventually went out of business. The process was a quick one, from changing key leadership personnel to total liquidation in a span of roughly three years. As part of the management team, I was made privy to the stories coming out of the corporate office, but was told not to tell anyone under me, who were full and part-time hourly employees.
It was a little surreal because I had just helped open a new branch of our company out in California. The new staff there was pretty thrilled and anxious, and we all had a pretty wild and fun time bonding while transforming an empty warehouse-size building into something amazing. Alas, the excitement of that new location would be very short-lived.
The first real instance where some of us in management realized something fishy was going on was the sudden end of a marketing partnership with, at the time, a budding online organization helping sell our products. That same company just last year enjoyed a net revenue of almost $136 billion. Another red flag occurred maybe a year or so later. The company took out a massive loan because they were losing money. That loan came with an ridiculously high interest rate. You don't have to be an economics major to figure out those dynamics. Something was about to go down.
The ensuing mess involved management positions being eliminated, and more importantly, many of those branches like the one I helped build from the ground up were forced to sell everything and shutter their doors for good. During this chaos, I was actually en route hoping to transfer to a new branch closer to home. I had inquired about new opportunities nearby, where I came in touch with one of my former managers at a prior location back in New York. Asking if I could transfer there, he told me in sincere terms, "don't do it." He was a little higher up the ladder than I, so I trusted his insight. And with good measure, as all the stores in the area eventually eliminated my position. Soon, those locations were gone as well.
Last year, a branch of a restaurant a friend works for closed. Two days after Christmas. Many of those employees were forced to either find new jobs, or if they were lucky, were taken in by the chain's other restaurants in the area. The latter was great for them, because the way the company closed this restaurant was a tad bit different than how my former company closed their doors.
Fast forward almost a year. My friend's restaurant closes its doors for good. Everyone there disperses the same way - many to the remaining two restaurants in the area.
Both my former company and these restaurants have a few small things in common. We served customers in some retail/food service capacity. We were both mostly staffed by full and part-time employees making below an acceptable living wage. But that's where the similarity ends.
While I'm disappointed my time at my former company had to eventually come to an end, I was pretty grateful for the manner in which things unraveled. I was keenly aware this was the end of their run. While it was a quick process in dissolving the company from the moment I started seeing the red flags, there was enough time to inform all their store employees to get out and find new jobs while they could. And more importantly - while they still had jobs.
Not so much with this terrible restaurant. Both stores closed abruptly, without notification, screwing just about everyone who worked at both locations.
A shift manager at this latest restaurant to close is one of many depressing stories. His wife recently gave birth to their second child. The other child needs some sort of routine surgery soon. He was given the option to bounce around the two remaining locations in the area, but to ultimately end up at one that will be almost a two-hour commute. It's a very stressful situation, but ultimately, his employer doesn't give a shit.
One of the more humiliating things with this company is how they treated those still employed once the restaurants suddenly closed. This shift manager and new father of two, for example, in order to keep his health insurance benefits with the company, needed to help clean and pack up the closed restaurant. You read that right. The company, which is still in operation, will not send people to empty the place for you. All the leftover food, all the kitchen utensils, appliances, cooking surfaces, dishware, televisions, chairs and the like need to be packed up by those recently displaced employees and put onto a U-Haul. And they have to scrub the floors clean. You begin to feel more of a worthless peon, I'm sure. Which is fine, because that's how the company saw you anyway in the grand scheme of things.
I'm one of those who truly believe every high school graduate should put off college and spend a year or two working in either a restaurant or in a retail store. If they already were as a student, that doesn't count. I'm talking full time retail/food service. Pay your bills with that money. Try and pay rent. Your phone bill. Buy groceries with that pay. Learn what it's like firsthand. Understand how hard you work is irrelevant. Understand what it's like to be the bottom of the totem pole, easily replaceable in the eyes of corporate bigwigs. Even if the ship is sinking, know those bigwigs still get their massive payouts. They'll still get their hefty severance. You'll get nothing, then be forced to scrub on your hands and knees the very place you helped sustain.
Corporate retail and food service are both awful. But it's much, much worse when those higher ups rear their pimply asses and drop a bombshell immediately, without warning - leaving large groups of people high and dry. In the grand scheme of things, corporate retail and food service do not care about their front line employees. If they claim they do, they're lying. And with this shitty chain restaurant, they showed their workers just how much they cared.
The worst part is they're going to keep closing their restaurants this way. Get out while you can. But if for some reason you choose not to, just know your place with them - insignificant.