Ode to the boss-at-the-bar

Being between jobs, I’m taking stock of bosses I’ve worked for and why their style of management either jived with mine or not. Then during an interview this week that very topic came up: Describe a time when you had a good working relationship with a boss.
I didn’t think twice: Greg McPartlin, owner of McP’s Irish Pub in Coronado, California where I worked as a waitress from 1987 to 1996. Greg used to sit at the corner of the bar many afternoons chatting up customers with a cigarette in one hand and a Bud Lite in the other.
A war veteran, he served multiple tours in Vietnam as a Navy medic and Frogman (predecessors of the SEAL team.) He’d survived two helicopter crashes and was a member of the team assisting in the sea recovery of NASA’s Apollo 11.
After his military service he moved to Coronado where he made enough money in Real Estate to afford beachfront property. He didn’t exactly fit into the khaki clad population with his baggy shorts, sockless topsiders and big belly peeking through the buttons of an untucked shirt, but trust me, his haphazard demeanor was merely a cloaking device.
In nearly 10 years of studying Greg, I assure you, he didn’t miss a beat. He was sharp and knew how to manage people. Not only did he offer medical insurance to all his employees at a time when it was unheard of, he rewarded hard work by carting the staff off to the horse races at Del Mar and Padre games every summer. He’d close the restaurant and we’d meet at McP’s in the morning where the kitchen staff would be packing coolers full of sandwiches for the outing. At Christmas he threw us a huge party in the pub. His generosity is a primary asset that garnered my trust, but it was also the way he read people.
McP’s Irish Pub sits at the southwestern end of Coronado Island, just a mile east of the Navy SEAL training base and three miles west of the Naval Air Station. A testosterone saturated community, the bar scene on Coronado could get pretty intense at times.
Greg’s man-at-the-bar style of management worked for two reasons: One was his accessibility to guests and employees; the other was his hands-off style of management. He saw everything that was going on and I only recall one time in nine years when he actually rose from his bar stool to tell me what to do.
During a busy lunch rush, four Navy SEALs sat down to order. When I said I’d be with them in a moment, one responded, “Take my order now bitch.”
Before sassing a busy waitress, a wise man would have made sure her hands were empty. The five-inch stack of plastic menus flew from my hand across the table to catch him square in the chest. Using the vocabulary of a sailor’s daughter, I told him he should consider eating elsewhere, and stormed into the kitchen.
A few minutes passed before Greg sauntered through those swinging doors. Never one to rush or raise his voice, he said, “Hey Pam, will you come into the dining room? There’s someone who’d like to give you an apology.”
I never fully appreciated the generosity of this man until 15 years later. Now that I’ve worked for at least a dozen other employers, I realize Greg McPartlin provided something I’ve never been able to find again.
Typing the notes from my journal into the computer earlier this week, I flashed on the McP’s phone number and spontaneously dialed it.
“Hello, McP’s. How can I help you,” came the voice.
I stammered, “Oh, um, my name is Pam, I used to work there,” and before I could finish, I heard “Pam. This is Tom.”
I couldn’t believe it – for starters that I remembered the number, and then to have the person on the other end of the line remember me. Add to that, standing next to Tom was Tracy, the woman who trained me 25 years ago.
Now if that isn’t testament to the success of the boss-at-the-bar style of management, I don’t know what is.