Why Everyone Should Work at Subway.
At least for one season in life.
Because the Flood is coming. Because it forces you to over-prepare. Because it humbles you. Because it destroys Default: the stimulant for self-sabotage. Because you have to adopt a ridiculous amount of responsibility if you’re going to be successful. Because it’s analogous to living properly; you have to sacrifice current comforts for a fruitful future. Because the Flood is coming. And if you’re not ready for it when it comes—and it will come—then you’ll drown, and so will everyone around you. Said plainly, when you work at Subway, you learn the Way to conduct yourself in life.
The Flood is what others in the Quick Service Restaurant, (QSR) industry refer to as the rush, where everyone and their mother darkens the door come lunchtime. In other words, you’re busier than a cat in a mess of guitar strings. If you’re not ready for the Flood when it hits, you lose. Your employees lose. And worse yet, you’ll know it was your fault.
As I write this, it is 5:22 PM on Wednesday, January 10, 2024. I got to the store this morning at 6:22 AM for my 9:00 AM shift. Yes, I was early. Wednesday is the first day of the week on Subway’s schedule. It’s also Delivery Day. Fifty cases of proteins, veggies, and toppings made for an inescapable cardboard maze in the backroom. That meant unpacking boxes and storing product had to be done on top of daily prep, (slicing veggies, pulling cookies, placing proteins, etc.). That was only the beginning of what needed to get done before the store opened. Much less, preparing for the Flood. This might sound like a Trump exaggeration but it’s true: every minute counts. No time for rest. All gas. No brakes.
“Don’t stop when you’re tired, stop when you’re done.” — David Goggins
But Wednesday isn’t just Delivery Day. It’s also Paperwork Day, which meant I counted every single item in the restaurant. From the exact amount of Miss Vickie’s Sea Salt & Vinegar chip bags to how many pounds of meatballs we had—both in the fridge and the freezer, (i.e. I calculated my store’s inventory). Speaking of, when my store’s inventory is figured in with the past week’s total sales, that equals my cost of goods. Each week my cost of goods needs to be between twenty-eight to thirty-one percent, or I get sacrificed to the Subway gods. No. That’s not what happens. But the Subway gods, (i.e. corporate) do not take kindly to franchisees whose restaurants aren’t in that three percent range. Once that hurdle is cleared, I prepare the store’s cash control paperwork in my office. Then my staff’s timesheets on the POS (Point of Sale) software at the register. And my personal favorite: the weekly inventory and sales report, (WISR). All these were completed and printed out before nine—when the owner of the store came to collect the paperwork. Now you understand why I was early.
“But that’s not all!” Imagine that being said in the most cringe-worthy, infomercial tonality. Wednesday is also Bank Day. I unlocked the safe, grabbed the cash drops from it, and wrote deposit slips to drop off at the bank just a stone’s throw down the street. Each Wednesday the deposits have to be in before 11:00 AM, or I get sacrifi—alright that’s enough. But the part about them being in by 11:00 AM is true. In the time between the owner collecting the paperwork and me running to the bank, there was a customer here and there, not more than ten. Nothing to write home about. The Flood is a different story. Like the biblical story, it’s definitely worth writing about, and it was approaching quickly.
The hour before the Flood consisted of slicing meats, baking cookies and bread, prepping meatballs, replacing anything the line is missing, (veggies, sauces, cheeses) and making sure there’s at least one backup of everything.* Trust me, you do not want to not have a backup of Monterey Cheddar.
My help gets in ten minutes before noon, sometimes 11:55 AM. I guess now would be a good time to mention I was alone until then. Can’t have too many people clocked in at once while no sandwiches are being sold. That kills our productivity number; another variable for another article, perhaps.
Noon came like folks ringing in the New Year. You could have set your watch to it. As soon as the clock struck twelve, the doorbell rang. The first customer walked in, nodded his head and smiled. “I’ll take a number sixteen on whea—”
The doorbell cut him off with brutal neatness. Another customer walked in.
“Morning brother,” I said, nodding. “Be right with ya.”
“Number sixteen on wheat.” The customer ahead of me said.
“Got it,” I said. “Footlong?”
Ping!
An online order sounded on the register. Then another two seconds later. Then another a half second after that. The doorbell rang again, this time a customer came in from the back door.
The customer I was serving had folds form on his forehead. Right before he said, “Yes,” the doorbell rang again.
Ping! Ping! Ping! Three more online orders in rapid succession.
We did fifteen units in fifteen minutes, and we had only just begun. That’s the Flood. And it’s only Wednesday.
That’s why I encourage everyone—especially young people—to work at and then aspire to manage a Subway; at least for one season in life. It’s humbling work. You’re paid hourly for a salaried position. Your work doesn’t end when you clock out. If there’s a problem at your store, it’s your problem; you own it. If your employee calls you at 10:10 PM, you answer. You adopt an exorbitant amount of responsibility. It’s a thankless job. You have to be in a perpetual state of sacrificing the comforts of the present for a better future. It forces you to delay gratification. It’s an antidote to self-sabotage; if you do sabotage yourself by not preparing before the Flood hits, you’ll drown, and so will everyone around you. Which means it’s not about you and never will be. You have to put everyone else’s needs before your own; denying yourself even the chance to sit down and catch your breath. It’s servant leadership. Call it an overstatement if you want, but to me it’s biblical. Because when you manage a Subway, and do it right, you begin to amalgamate Christ—the Way.
“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” — Matthew 16:24
I have said hundreds of times in the last two decades that it should be mandatory for everybody to work in a restaurant for one year immediately after high school. It changes you.