Fun fact: my first ever job, as in real W-2 actual paycheck with taxes deducted from it job, was at a Bertucci’s, as a bus boy. I had just gotten my license, so I was told to get a job immediately, and considering that I wanted money, I was more than willing to comply. I applied just about everywhere, and Bertucci’s was the place that pretty much hired me first, so it was there did I get my feet wet in the official working world.
I learned about Friday dinner rushes, shitty management, asshole servers who lied about their tip reporting in order to short the tip out to the bussers, that dishwashing paid better than bussing and kept you away from the customers, and that in the food service industry it’s everyone versus management amid the patrons.
It was similar to Waiting… the film, long before the film ever came to fruition. Despite the fact that I knew how often they lied on their tip declarations, thus screwing me out of my share of tips, I had a decent relationship with several of the servers, one of whom died while I was working there from a hard-living life of alcohol and obesity while not at work (he fell down some stairs to his death). But we all hated the managers, Larry (the Fairy (he wasn’t gay (I think)), just kind of fruity) and the asshole assistant manager named Enio who blatantly tried to short peoples’ pay, probably stole tips, and was just generally a piece of shit, and it was through this unity that made work not suck all the time.
Either way, I worked there for three months, saving up money for Anime Expo 1998, and then the Sunday before I left for California, I got a frantic phone call from Larry the Fairy, demanding that I come in to work, despite not being on the schedule. At the time, I was sharing a car with my sister, and she had it and was out, not to mention that I didn’t want to fucking work on a day I wasn’t scheduled for, so I explained that I had no car, and thus could not come in. Larry the Fairy yelled that I needed to come in regardless and hung up on me, and I shrugged and sat back down at my computer and didn’t go in to work.
Two weeks later, I rolled into Bertucci’s for my Saturday shift, and didn’t see my name on the calendar, or any other future dates. I asked Larry the Fairy what was up, and he brusquely told me that my no-showing my unscheduled demand to come to work was interpreted as my resignation from employment. I kind of scrunched my brow, but remembered that working at Bertucci’s absolutely blew and just said “okay,” went into the office to get my last paycheck, and walked out without any shits left to give.
Eventually, this particular Bertucci’s closed down, and was replaced by a gift from the gods – Malibu Grill, AKA Ten Different Meats, the Brazilian churrascaria where Silver Kings served us meat on swords, where my friends and I consumed probably a farm’s worth of livestock during its existence. But no good thing lasts forever, and one day, it was horrifically replaced with half of a Chinese restaurant, that like mold, took over half of the structure. And then mercifully, the building went out of business again, ending the greatest era of 4516 Fair Knoll Dr., and now it’s a Chick Fil-A, which we all know, are money printers that so seldom go out of business.
Anyway, considering this all happened nearly 20 full years ago, color me surprised to know that just now, the Bertucci’s company is declaring chapter 11 bankruptcy, which is basically the last bastion of hope at trying to grasp to life, before they’ll unceremoniously eventually just vanish outright months later. They’ve basically just signed their death warrant at this point, and it’s only a matter of time before they all succumb and are replaced by Chipotles or Poké restaurants.
Frankly, I had no idea Bertucci’s was as big as the company actually was, nor the fact that they’ve been operational since 1998. But hearing upon their death sentence flooded me with memories of my own experiences with Bertucci’s, and if anything at all, it was something to write about.
All things considered, putting my personal feelings aside for working there, the food at Bertucci’s was actually pretty good. They kind of had a unique offering, with brick oven, Neapolitan style pizza, which is a far cry from the usual crap that is peddled at Papa Johns or Pizza Hut. I have a fond recollection for their white pizza, the chicken broccoli pizza, and my personal favorite, the barbecue chicken pollomatch, which I often used my 50% food discount to order one for the road every now and then for my parents and I to indulge in at home.
But the way the business operated, it’s a minor miracle that they lasted 20 years past my last memories of them before they started to kick the bucket. The faux-Italian décor, with endless loops of Frank Sinatra music playing. Service staff all forced to wear white shirt and tie, black slacks and look like a formal joint despite the target demographic was really no different than a Chili’s. And with stiffs like Larry the Fairy and Enio running them, it’s no wonder the company as a whole was nearly $120 million in the hole; what with their incompetence combined with the typical loss suffered at the hands of the employees of the food service industry itself, $120 million over 20 years seems kind of low.
I think the best part about Bertucci’s rationale for why they’re closing is that it’s a veiled jab at millennials; about how they don’t enjoy sit down dining like the generation ahead of them did, and how it’s basically their fault that they’re going under. Such might be the case to some degree, but Bertucci’s is also not without fault, for simply failing to adapt and evolve to the changing world around them. If you realize that the millennials are the ones starting to have the majority of the money, this is where smart businesses begin pivoting and finding ways to part these demographics from their money in the most efficient and appealing manners.
If the younger crowds don’t want to listen to Sinatra and would rather be served by attractive servers with Jared Leto haircuts or jeans tighter than a Katy Perry music video, it’s on Bertucci’s to fix their modus operandi to appeal to them if they want to have any modicum of chance of surviving for the long haul. Change portion sizes, adjust prices accordingly; as easy as the restaurant industry might seem from those who have never been a part of it, it’s still extraordinarily difficult, mostly because absolutely everyone needs to buy in for it to work.
And it’s for that lack of adaptation that Bertucci’s is on the chopping block. But good on them to have survived this long, because I had no idea they even existed outside of Virginia in the first place. The rolls were most certainly not as big of a deal as they or anyone else waxing poetic about the company seems to be doing, but damn does reminiscing about Bertucci’s does make me miss and want a pollomatch now.
