In July 2015, the highest-rated restaurant in the United States on review aggregator Yelp wasn’t the newest hotbed of molecular gastronomy, or a bastion of haute cuisine policed by stiff-necked waiters, or the latest concept from a TV-famous chef. No, it was an austere barbecue joint near a highway overpass in Austin, Texas named Franklin Barbecue.
Franklin proudly advertises that it has sold out of brisket, its signature item, every day since it opened back in 2009. To get a taste of that meat customers begin lining up as early as six in the morning, toting chairs and lugging beverage coolers to tide them over while they wait. And when it’s gone, it’s gone, much to the disappointment of anyone further back in line.
Owner Aaron Franklin opens the restaurant just four hours per day and six days per week, during lunch only. In the summer he makes his customers idle for long stretches with nothing to shield them from the scorching Texas sun. Tourists who’ve traveled across the country to sample the goods might burn half a day of precious vacation time just waiting in line. Aaron won’t buy more smokers to grow capacity or open more locations, despite tremendous pressure to expand his brand.
And despite all this the response has been, well, overwhelming: rapturous reviews from customers, widespread critical acclaim, and a blazing media profile that has brought national renown to both Aaron and his restaurant.
When clothing manufacturer American Giant launched its first product, a zip-up hoodie, the four-month wait for what appeared to be a generic sweatshirt became part of the mythos of the company. In an era of fast fashion, and with internet logistics shrinking delivery timeframes from days to hours, customers were willing to wait months for the company’s products to return to stock.1 When they finally received their order, they raved in terms usually reserved for luxury products or exotic travel experiences.
Most companies appear to be accelerating towards efficiency—offering what we want exactly when and where we want it. What sets Franklin Barbecue and American Giant, in two very different industries, apart from the rest? Why could they flout the most basic conventions of customer service: responsiveness, availability, convenience? They discovered that the opposite model works too:
This more deliberate approach isn’t for everyone. Making it work requires a few things.
- Offer the real deal: the reviews, for the food and sweatshirts respectively, overwhelmingly confirm that Franklin Barbecue and American Giant have truly rarefied products. Whether you’re hankering for brisket or a heavyweight hoodie,2 they’re at the top of their respective industries. If you’re going to make people wait for something, it had better be good.
- Focus your energy: Aaron Franklin has resisted the lure of expansion, even though he could have an outpost of his restaurant in every strip mall and airport terminal food court the day after tomorrow should he so choose. And while American Giant has broadened its product line beyond hoodies, it remains focused on casual basics with special emphasis on fabrics. Signaling what you won’t do adds real value to what you do.
- Don’t fake the brand: Franklin Barbecue was really started by one guy tending smokers through the night until he got it right. American Giant’s apparel is sourced from U.S. mills with unusual attention to detail that requires legitimate craftsmanship and design. Unlike the fauxthenticity of other brands, which unsurprisingly failed, these two didn’t need to concoct a backstory. You shouldn’t have to either.
- Value the friction: the “IKEA effect” is well known; we tend to overvalue something that we’ve had a role in creating.3 For certain products, the wait and difficulty in acquiring them only heighten the experience. Call this the Franklin effect: your investment of time and emotion prior to any actual engagement with a product sets you up to love it.4 In Austin the waiting lines have turned into communal affairs, sparking random interactions between strangers that are part of the Franklin experience. Spin friction into brand-building.
At Franklin Barbecue the heat is oppressive, the surroundings unaccommodating, the schedule inconvenient, the cost not trivial—and yet people can’t get enough. For American Giant, shoppers may have to wait weeks for something they could get in an hour or two with a trip to a store, but they gladly hold off.
Perhaps the on-demand economy is missing something. Ask yourself: is there anything you offer that a customer would endure inconvenience for, no matter how slight?
And if the answer is no, what does that say about your organization?
Franklin Barbecue’s line around noon, March 2018 [photo by Jason]
- And soon the prospect of Amazon drones will cut that wait even further. If they can navigate open windows they can literally drop products in our laps, obviating the need to leave our overstuffed recliners and interrupt our binge-watching—of Amazon-produced content of course. ↩
- In case you want to adopt a Silicon Valley uniform, à la Mark Zuckerberg. ↩
- Spend some time assembling Scandinavian furniture and you’ll think the resulting particleboard bookshelf compares favorably to one produced by a skilled carpenter, even if it’s canted at a strange angle and you have a handful of leftover hardware. ↩
- Having the tempting smell of wood-fired barbecue wafting over your customers while they wait doesn’t hurt either. ↩