
I got called back in on my first day—until midnight.
Yep. Sure did.
But that’s not a complaint; more like a declaration. Because honestly, it was the best training I could have asked for.
Baptism by fire sauce. That’s the phrase, right?
Anyway, I worked from 8 to 6—a well-structured orientation followed by shadowing my training manager, soaking up everything I could about this completely different QSR concept.
I got home at half past 6, and after dinner and some downtime with my wife, my phone buzzed around 8 p.m. The group chat lit up. The Assistant General Manager had gone home sick, and the store was short-staffed for the Fourth Meal rush.
I replied: “Omw.”
Why wouldn’t I? At the end of my book The Way: Out of Self-Sabotage; Into Self-Mastery, I argue that once we've achieved self-mastery, we stop asking, “What should I do?” and start asking, “What would make for a better story?”
And here we are.
When I got to the store, I had no clue what I was doing.
I washed my hands, gloved up, looked at the team and said, “Just show me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
I bagged chips.
Dropped fries, nuggets, chalupa shells.
Did dishes.
Pre-closed.
Most importantly, I got to know the team—and they got to know me. What a first impression: knowing the new GM in training isn’t above coming in till midnight, even on Day One.
It was awesome. That one night probably accelerated my training by weeks. It was also just plain fun—and now I’ve got a story.
This isn’t me boasting. It’s not me “letting my left hand know what my right is doing,” per Matthew 6:3.
It’s just me doing what this newsletter was built for: sharing QSR leadership experiences and the lessons behind them.
And the lesson here? Next time you're faced with an inconvenient problem, try asking not, “What should I do?” but, “What would make for a better story?”
Very nice story, Hunter I’m sure you impressed your coworkers with your proactive attitude.
I’m sure your Christ like attitude had something to do with it.
Was there any scope for progression in that job!