8
Sam
With Riley gone, the team settled into a stable routine in our second week.I still saw some areas that needed tweaking, but the priority for me right now was the big three:
the décor—and honestly, Harry, what were you thinking?
the name—I’d learned a long time ago that a rebrand was always a good idea,
and the one that I knew I’d have the biggest fight on, the menu.
I could see how the bar had survived thus far.Despite the clashing menu and décor, the drinks were always well made and Tiffany was a highlight.She was, in more ways than one, a stand-out.An exceptionally talented mixologist who deserved to be headlining at a far more upscale establishment than this.In fact, she should have been poached from here years ago.I wondered if the lure of having the run of this place kept her here.
However, exceptional cocktails were great, but smoke machines and custom-made ice weren’t the direction I wanted to go in.I’d seen the locals come but also saw the younger millennial set, who didn’t want trash but didn’t want pomp either.They wanted affordable, well-made drinks that served as a backdrop to a good night.They’d come in groups, talk and celebrate.It didn’t have to be a party.It was a vibe.
Having a list was only half the battle, though.Before I could even think of my next steps, I needed to know what I was up against.
Before I’d even landed at O’Hare, I’d reached out to a few contacts, who passed on the details of a few names.Some I’d heard of, and they’d had varying levels of enthusiasm, but more often than not, they always had a cutting remark about Tiffany to add to the conversation, as if badmouthing her would get them into my good books.
It was strange to get protective over someone I could barely tolerate.
It also gave me a rather underwhelming impression of my “peers,” if I could call them that.Jordan hadn’t been misleading; there was an established order here, it seemed, and while they were happy to play nice due to my reputation, they weren’t opening their arms in welcome.
Well, no matter.Jordan had been right about another thing, too.
I was nothing if not persistent.
Stephen Pierce was my highest priority.After the initial article, which had unfortunately compared our reputations against each other, others had followed.Pierce had responded with a series of interviews and comments, where he disputed the idea that high-end bars were losing traction and managed to call me out specifically, saying that “this imagined competition would only have legs if Sam Cooper was close to being on the same level.”
So, that’s how it was going to be, then.
His name had already come up enough that I knew he would be a good ally to have, and now that he’d called me out, I knew it was more important than ever to get on his good side.It was never good business to start with enemies.
But after finally getting him on the phone, it was obvious that Stephen Pierce had an ego that rivaled some of my acquaintances back home.
Hmm.
It would take some time to stop thinking of it as home.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to call me,” Pierce said as soon as I introduced myself.“Heard you’d gotten some criticism recently.Unfortunate, but the sheep always complain about the lions, don’t they?Although, can’t say I completely disagreed, either.”
An ache formed over my left eye, and I shifted the phone to my other ear so I could rub at it.Working in the business I did, you could never forget that there were people like this, but it never got any easier to deal with them.“Oh?Can I ask what in particular you agreed with?”
“Hmm.Well, I don’t usually like to tell others how to run their business,” he said.A baldfaced lie.“But I honestly can’t see how you expect to succeed when you’re stripping your menu of any creativity.Unless it’s a ploy to rid yourself of that bartender of yours.”One guess who he was referring to.“But you really should reconsider the lowest common denominator approach you’ve taken up if you want to be taken seriously.”
My gut instinct was to disregard everything he said.It struck me as a lot of enthusiastic generalities that, combined, sounded like the words of a wise, successful man.The reality likely was that his success came at the benefit of money and connections and was sustained due to the hard work of others.
One thing that stopped me from dismissing his point completely, however, was the echo of a growing sentiment that said, to succeed, I would need to project an air of “luxury” and “exclusivity” with the type of drinks that took a highly skilled person five minutes to make.
Now, there was nothing wrong with that direction.But that wasn’t what I wanted the bar to be.One of the insights I’d gained from my time away had been that quantity didn’t have to negate quality, but it almost always resulted in more profit.
Pierce had it wrong.I wasn’t chasing the “lowest common denominator,” and honestly, he could shove that term up his ass.What I was considering were the customers.And they’d proven, both before I’d arrived and since, that they preferred the more accessible options.
I didn’t like my options here.It was becoming clearer that I would either have to “join the club” or follow my gut.I wasn’t used to going against industry players, and I didn’t enjoy being outwardly antagonistic—despite my actions with Tiffany—especially publicly.But the fact was, I had a business to run.I was aiming for success that would last.And now that I was back in Chicago, I was here to stay.
I wanted to make this work.
Failure wasn’t an option.
