From multiple reinventions to becoming part of the gig economy, six industry veterans share how the pandemic has changed their worlds.
The year of the pivot
Robb Jones, co-owner of the Minneapolis dive bar Meteor, used the bar's Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) money to purchase a hot dog roller and launch a food program during the first shutdown. That wasn't the bar's only reinvention. It toyed with opening a car wash in the parking lot, created a cocktail tasting menu, started selling slushie mixes and is now making cordials for cocktail kits.
"Initially, I think everyone thought it would just be a couple of weeks, some sort of nationwide shutdown for a limited time frame and that the PPP would get everyone through that. So, we thought it would be kind of fun to do hot dogs. Then we did a tasting menu, which was hard for us to have business be consistent. We only had a certain amount of time to build a customer base — our first anniversary is this Saturday, the 19th. The people that we had, the loyalists, they want to hang out at the bar and are not really the type of people that would want to come in and do a fancy cocktail experience. So, you know, you can be open and you can say, 'Let's all open everything,' but no one's coming. To-go sales went OK for a while and then they kind of fell off. We're in a place now where we're just doing once a week pickup and pre-order. We would sit here for 10 hours a day and we would maybe make $40. Our business model isn't based on selling a $5 hot dog."
The year of surviving rather than thriving
Early on in the pandemic, John Sugimura, chef/co-owner of PinKU Japanese Street Food, discovered that his four-year-old restaurant was "set up for a pandemic, even though I didn't know a pandemic was coming," he said. His secret? The 900-square foot operation was already a lean, mean dining machine.
"We don't have a 130-seat dining room and 40 people on staff, and that has allowed us to be fluid. We can make adjustments on the fly. We didn't have to reinvent ourselves, and go through all the horrible steps that others had to go through. We were never knocked down and had to pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off. We just marched on. We haven't grown, but we're not destitute, either. We've kept our head above water. It's been a tight ship, and now we're pros at running a tight ship. I've never felt more on top of my game."
The year of the side hustle
Beth Gillies, owner of the Bizzle Agency, a restaurant marketing and public relations firm, was following the news from Bergamo, Italy, which was the early epicenter of COVID cases, and expected similar shutdowns would be coming to Minnesota. Bracing for the impact on her industry, she applied for jobs in retail. Now, she's working in a liquor store and as a grocery shopper.
"I can remember that feeling of hearing about a shutdown and how we'd never really experienced anything like that since 9/11. I could see the writing on the wall and knew that restaurants were going to be impacted. Marketing and PR are needed, but they're not front-line staff making and preparing food. Of course, the focus in spending is going to go to the employees and to the day-to-day needs of the business. I personally stopped invoicing in March. It was like, what are you going to do? Take blood from a stone? I wanted to continue working, so I immediately went out and applied for part-time jobs in the grocery stores, anywhere that was going to be an essential business that was going to stay open. I started working in the liquor store in April and it's been really good in many ways. It's been a regular routine. It's kept me interacting with people. We're kind of like bartenders. It makes it seem so much longer and so much heavier to think back to January, February and early March, we were going about having openings and lunches and group gatherings and now, even seeing pictures of them makes us uncomfortable. I don't know if PR and marketing will ever go back to pre-pandemic business."
The year of loss
John and Midori Flomer, who own Midori's Floating World Cafe, were already struggling through the shutdown when civil unrest following the police killing of George Floyd came to their Lake Street business' door. Their building was so heavily damaged, John Flomer said, that they don't know if or when the 17-year-old Japanese restaurant can return. (In the meantime, they're opening a three-night-a-week takeout pop-up at Seward Cafe beginning in January.)