THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, October 10, 1994 TAG: 9410070579
SECTION: BUSINESS WEEKLY PAGE: 4 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY SUSAN DESILET, SPECIAL TO BUSINESS WEEKLY
LENGTH: Long : 107 lines
``I can't work for anybody else. I make a poor employee, a better employer.''
Jerry Meltsner is talking. He's talking restaurants, small restaurants.
One last domain of the unfranchised, be-your-own-boss, top-of-the-hill, set-your-own-hours, yeoman merchant may well be the little diner. Meltsner owns and runs not one, not two, but three little diners.
How'd he become Norfolk's takeout lunch king?
``It seemed like the thing to do,'' Meltsner said casually, and added, ``I didn't know any better.''
Let's back up. Meltsner is, in fact, a case study. How he built his business on hot dogs, submarines and vending carts is a quick lesson in preseverance, to say nothing of the marketing of fast food.
After receiving a hotel-restaurant management degree and working in Philadelphia family restaurants, Meltsner moved to Hampton Roads.
In 1986 he bought a downtown Norfolk takeout shop, renamed it City Subs and began thinking. His customers were frequent and familiar, but he wanted to let more people know he was there.
Yes, it was the '80s. Remember slick and elegant? But advertisements on radio and television . . . well, that was like throwing away cash as far as Meltsner was concerned.
``I printed up funny money with my face on it,'' he confessed.
The discounts did the job. Since then, his marketing approach has stayed low-key. The advertising staples are fliers, coupons within certain ZIP codes and feel-goods.
Feel goods? Fund-raisers and gift certificates, he explained.
He talks deadpan. Listen to this.
City Subs had been his only a few months. Then during lunch-hour rush, an employee came with bad news.
Smelly water was streaming into the back room. In no time, three inches of sewer water covered the floor.
It was Meltsner's introduction to the building's little flaw in the drainage system.
``We closed for the rest of the day,'' Meltsner said.
Out came the buckets, mops and sweat equity.
He didn't give up. After buying City Subs, he bought Dog 'N Burger in Norfolk's Ghent section.
Dog 'N Burger, with outdoor benches and limited indoor seating, was like a takeout operation. But running two diners meant every day was a workday.
Finding managers was a major problem. He trained employees to be more responsible. He raised wages and provided health benefits.
I still didn't learn my lesson.'' He's talking about his next venture, a new restaurant.
Starting from scratch, he got ideas from magazines for the look of the interior. He took advantage of the skills of the designer on the construction company staff, which saved time and money.
In December 1990, the No Frill Grill was born in the Southern Shopping Center in east central Norfolk.
Developing the menu and hiring the employees was smooth compared to complying with the city's requirement for a ramp.
Delaying the opening almost a week, the ramp into the restaurant had to be rebuilt three times. Once it was a half-inch off specifications.
And one day the roof fell in. The plaster ceiling, that is.
The 15-foot hole didn't deter the restaurant from business as usual, but it did teach Meltsner this: There's an advantage to leasing instead of owning.
Life was hectic. In fact, Meltsner's life had no quality. After 18 months of running three outlets, he sold City Subs, although it was financially painful.
The shop was profitable, but he had to weigh the potential. City Subs consumed time and energy. And it was open only for breakfast and lunch during the workday. Then it served primarily submarines and sandwiches.
Dog 'N Burger and No Frill Grill had more growth potential. Goodbye City Subs.
And hello outdoor festivals.
Meltsner and business associate John Kliner discussed how they could make their mark. Festival vending had flourished by 1990.
The two thought up a product and a theme: tuna or chicken teriyaki served in pita bread from a 1950s-style stand.
For a relatively small investment, $5,000 to $6,000, No Frill Grill outdoor vending became, said Meltsner, a major marketing tool.
Each sandwich comes in a small bag with the restaurant's name on it. That brings him more business than any advertising he's ever done, Meltsner said.
No Frill's vending stand appeared at festivals as many as 100 days a year. But by this year, Meltsner scaled back to about 40 days.
Again, it was too much investment for too little potential.
So, with time on his hands, these days Meltsner considers new ventures. He's cautious, though, remembering the stress, the added risk in any new enterprise.
``Now it takes me forever to make a decision,'' Meltsner laments.
He mulls the deals. He knows a lot, and the knowledge complicates his decisions. He thinks about location, real estate costs, insurance, building improvements, employees, income potential.
He takes his time.
And, he knows the added risk must not include the possibility of his going back to burger-flipping and pot-washing. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo on cover by Richard L. Dunston
Color photo by Richard L. Dunston
Owner Jerry Meltsner, right, and employee Donnell McLin work the
grill at Dog 'N Burger in Norfolk's Ghent.
by CNB