We arrived at 7:45 p.m. on a Sunday night, and it was immediately obvious that we had just missed the maelstrom. The dining room was absolutely trashed, like a frat party had been held there. Every table was piled high with dirty dishes, glasses and cutlery; the floor was covered with wadded napkins and pieces of food. Even tables on the patio were covered in trash.

Clearly the staff was completely overwhelmed. There were just three employees working, one at the cash register and two at the grill. And people continued to pour in through the door after us. It’s little wonder the staff felt compelled to keep taking orders and cooking food.

I asked the woman at the cash register for a cloth so I could clean a table. She was quite flustered and replied that I shouldn’t have to do it, that she would do it for me. But she never did.

So my husband returned to the cash register and asked to speak with the manager, who was cooking at the grill. The manager wouldn’t stop his work long enough to come out from behind the grill and speak with my husband, so Mark literally yelled from the counter to the back, “YOUR RESTAURANT IS FILTHY, YOU SHOULD BE EMBARRASSED, AND WE NEED SOMEONE TO CLEAN A TABLE FOR US!”

The manager shrugged his shoulders at us — like too bad, so sad, nothing he could do. Then he turned back around and continued cooking food.

We should have walked out. Or at least had our food packaged to go. But it was late and our daughter was starving, so I relocated someone else’s dirty dishes, pulled out the baby wipes I carry everywhere in my purse and cleaned off a table for us.

While we ate, my husband and I discussed what the manager should have done, given the circumstances. And what he should have done was focus on longer-term business goals — building a positive brand image, ensuring customer loyalty — rather than the shorter-term business goal of cooking a pasta bowl.

The manager should have locked the door — or told incoming customers there would be a delay. Then he should have suspended grill operations long enough to deploy his entire team into the dining room to clean tables and sweep floors.

It would have taken the whole crew five, 10 minutes max, to clean that dining room. Then it would be ready for new diners and those of us already eating would have seen that a clean and pleasant dining experience was important to this manager.

He then could have passed out “free appetizer” coupons to anyone inconvenienced by his managerial decision, perhaps ensuring that people would return.

Since we eat at this restaurant frequently, I know ours was an aberrant experience. But imagine a patron visiting for the first time, walking into that filthy restaurant and encountering harried and disengaged employees. Chances are that chain lost a potential customer for life.

But the manager wasn’t thinking about brand image or customer loyalty; he was thinking only about having to cook the next bowl of pasta. He allowed a temporary business pressure to take priority over permanent business needs. And that was a mistake.

It’s easy for daily “tyranny of the urgent” to pull our attention away from longer-term goals of building a positive brand image or ensuring customer loyalty, whether we’re in food service or marketing communications. We must be vigilant so we don’t let that happen.

More than 50 years after pop singer Brenda Lee warbled her deep lament for hurting someone’s feelings, public apologies are more abundant than ever before.

Indeed, so many apologies now hurl forth daily from politicians, celebrities, CEOS, celebrities, coaches and other public figures that there is at least one website devoted to critiquing the practice. (Spend some time surfing SorryWatch, because nothing beats hilarious and educational.)

Yet despite the plethora of public apologies — Time magazine compiled a list of the 10 best apologies ever, including one from Plato — people still don’t apologize very well. So here’s a primer on apologies. A good one contains these elements:

• Take responsibility. You did something wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t need to apologize, right? So embrace your failure with “I really screwed up,” and not “Mistakes were made.” Mistakes don’t fall from the sky and randomly hit people.

• Be sincere and empathetic. If someone is suffering thanks to your mistake, you should feel guilty about that. Ashamed, even. Make sure your words say as much.

• Acknowledge consequences. Your mistake didn’t occur inside a vacuum. It triggered negative repercussions that caused difficulty and inconvenience for someone else. You need to recognize that.

• No excuses, no conditional language. Do not even with the “I’m sorry if…” Qualifying language like “I’m sorry if” has no place in a good apology. Likewise, there is never a good excuse for why you made a mistake. Does being drunk, or losing your job, or staying awake for three days bouncing a crying baby, or maintaining a vigil by a dying relative’s bed make your mistake any less onerous for the person suffering its consequences? No. No, it does not. Excuses undermine the value of your apology.That being said, you owe it to yourself and your victim to understand how your mistake occurred. Exactly what happened? And what steps are you taking to ensure it doesn’t happen again? The answers to those questions will drive your personal or professional growth.

• Make amends. You should offer a mitigation plan with your apology: “Here’s how I hope to fix this…” If you have no idea how to mitigate your mistake, have the courtesy to ask, “How might I make this up to you?” As the folks at SorryWatch so eloquently state, the point of an apology is to make someone feel better. You make someone feel better by trying to remedy your error. You do not make someone feel better by trying to promote yourself, save your business or limit liability.

A recent example of a public apology offered correctly comes from Levi Pettit, a University of Oklahoma student featured in an undercover video that went viral online. He was shown leading his fraternity brothers in singing a song that used a racial epithet, referenced lynching and boasted that the house would never admit black students.

Pettit didn’t just say he was sorry. He went a step further, meeting with leaders within his local black community to apologize personally and to begin volunteering on racial justice issues. His actions conveyed sincere regret, as well as his desire to learn from his mistake and apply his understanding to some larger societal good. And when Pettit finally went public with his apology, he was flanked by the very people he had hurt with his actions.
 

• Finally, move on. After you’ve apologized, made amends and learned from your mistake, dust off your hands and move on. Languishing in the painful past just hurts everyone involved more.

So too, unfortunately, was that neighbor.

When it came to light in court that he had regaled his friends with gory details about evidence – and even opined on the defendant’s guilt – the judge had no choice but to declare a mistrial.

And when my neighbor left the courtroom that day in utter disgrace, the news media had no choice but to ambush him.

With video rolling and lights ablaze, TV reporters shot footage of him being caught unaware – then clearly panicking, throwing both arms in front of his face, and running blindly into one courthouse wall after another before he mercifully launched himself into a men’s restroom stall and refused to come out.

That video was aired a LOT. And months later, when my neighbor faced a misdemeanor contempt of court charge, that video was aired some more. And when the second murder trial started, that video was aired again.

In the world of TV news, where good visuals mean everything, it doesn’t get much better than someone looking so obviously and ridiculously guilty. Appearance is everything.

Some PR people say the first rule of crisis communications is not to lie. But after watching my neighbor handle his personal communications crisis so very badly, I maintain that not lying is the third rule.

The first rule is not to panic. Take deep breaths and pause long enough to think.

The second rule is not to avoid communicating. Rather, you should embrace it. (This rule makes corporate lawyers blanch.) You almost always can be your best and most effective advocate.

The third rule, then, is never to lie – understanding that “not lying” doesn’t mean “reveal everything.”

How much more dignified my neighbor would have looked had he not panicked, and instead stopped long enough to make a non-comment comment such as, “I was surprised by the judge’s decision to declare a mistrial today. Thank you,” before calmly walking off.

Certainly, reporters would have shouted other questions, which he could have – and should have – ignored. But the resulting video would have shown a proud and calm man taking charge of his personal crisis instead of running around like a beheaded chicken. And while it would have been less entertaining for viewers and reporters alike, that is, after all, a key objective of effective crisis communications – minimize the negative attention.

This is my Mama Ruth’s sour dough bread recipie. My grandmother, Ruth Youngblood, was mistress of the domestic arts. Her quilts, afghans, canned goods and pies won all sorts of ribbons in Oklahoma. Her recipes for sour dough are among a handful of items I have written in her own handwriting. I once accidentally threw them in the trash and went wading through days-worth of garbage to retrieve them, they are that precious to me. Fortunately, Mama Ruth put ALL her recipes in plastic sleeves so the recipe cards themselves emerged from the garbage unscathed.

Mama Ruth’s sour dough is a little sweeter than the traditional San Franciso style that had a bite to it. This bread was among the MANY homemade goodies awaiting our arrival at Christmas — along with cherry and apple pies, divinity to DIE for and homemade spiced apple cider.

Sour Dough Starter: before you can make sour dough bread, you’ve got to culture the starter.

1 package active dry yeast
2.5 cups warm water (105-115 degrees)
1 c. Instant nonfat dry milk
2 TBSP. sugar
4 c. All purpose flour

Stir first four ingredients in 2.5 quart crock with lid (non metalic) until yeast is dissolved. Stir in flour until smooth. Loosely cover and let set in warm place for 3-5 days. Stir, then cover with lid and keep in fridge. Whenever you use starter — or every 10 days, whichever comes first — replenish supply by adding 1c. Milk, 1 c. Flour and 1/3 c. Sugar. After “feeding” starter, always allow it to sit at room temperature for a while before returning it to the fridge.

BREAD
1 package yeast
1 TBSP sugar
1/2 c. Warm water
6 c. Flour
1 c. Water
1 egg
1/3 c. Sugar
1/2 c. Oil
1-1/2 t. Salt
1 c. Sour dough starter

Add yeast to 1 TBSP sugar and 1/2 c. Water and set aside

Add starter, 1 c. water, sugar, oil, salt and egg together and blend thoroughly. Add to flour and blend thoroughly. I use my standup mixer for this, using the bread claw until the dough threatens to spill over the bowl.

Put dough in greased bowl, cover and set aside in warm spot until it rises to double its size. Knead again and form into two loaves. Bake for 15 minutes at 375 degrees, then turn down to 350 and bake for another 30 minutes.

My maternal grandmother, Imogene Nance – Mama Jean to us – was extremely devoted to her mother and sister. There’s a long back-story there; for brevity’s sake, let’s just say that Mama Jean was destitute growing up, and her mother and her sister were all she had.

After Mama Jean and Aunt Kat grew up and started their own families, they would gather together for holiday dinners. My great-grandmother, Margaret – Other Mama to us – contributed the cranberry salad. It was her signature dish.

My mother inherited Other Mama’s old-fashioned food grinder. Here’s a photo of what it looks like:

As a child, I loved helping make the cranberry salad. I loved smelling the orange as the food grinder released the peel’s fragrance, and I loved hearing the pop and crack of cranberries in the blades.

My grandmother once tried using a blender on the cranberries and orange peel, reporting that they came out too mushy. We’ve never tried a food processor, but I would imagine a coarse setting would work.

Here’s the recipe, handed down in my family since the 1930s.

Other Mama’s Cranberry Salad

1 package fresh cranberries (12 ounces)
2 small packages lemon Jello
1¾ cups sugar
½ cup chopped pecans
2 naval oranges, peeled and sectioned (remove all white pith)

Coarsely grind cranberries and orange rind through food processor. Dissolve Jello in 2 cups of hot water. Add sugar and stir until thoroughly dissolved. When thickened, add cranberries and orange rind, nuts and sections of orange. Place in mold and refrigerate to congeal. More orange sections may be added if desired.

Here’s a picture of the salad:

Psst — See more of our favorite recipes all week over on Pinterest!

The store had four models on display behind the cash register. When I described my need to the clerk sitting on a stool, playing with his Blackberry, he casually pointed over his shoulder.

“We’re out of the Sony so you’ll have to buy that one, the floor model,” he said, his eyes firmly affixed on his Blackberry.

Suddenly he looked up and added, “No matter which model you get, you need an extended warranty.” And he proceeded to lecture me on the notorious unreliability of portable DVD players. Their batteries fail. Their screens quit working.

“And if you lose the power cord, forget it,” he said. “Good luck replacing that.”

Now, I know that (a) most extended warranties are a complete waste of money and (b) they represent pure profit, which is why retailers are so eager to sell them. But to try to make a sale by describing how bad the actual product is before I’ve bought the product? That’s nutty.

Good service means understanding your customer’s needs and doing your best to meet them. In this situation, the clerk made no effort to find the best portable DVD player for my family. It’s why I walked out the door without buying anything.

Companies that don’t grasp the concept of good service will find themselves –like this retailer – “struggling to remain relevant.”

While the feds explore whether Mary Easley’s husband, former N.C. Gov. Mike Easley, violated any campaign rules as they relate to her hiring, I feel confident saying some of the folks involved violated three basic rules about communicating with the media.

These are rules we at Sinclair & Co. cover during media training with clients and they are pretty fundamental:

• Never lie. This seems like a no brainer, but time and time again people fail to heed this simple admonition. (Remember Richard Nixon? Bill Clinton?) Lying only makes your problem worse – and lies will always come to light.
• When you have bad news to share, share it early and quickly. Bad news is just like a stuck-on Band-Aid® – you must address it quickly. Sure, it’ll hurt like heck and you may even scream, but then the pain is gone. As N.C. State officials learned the hard way, taking off a bad-news bandage bit by painful bit prolongs the agony for everyone involved.
• Admit your mistakes – then move on. Martha Stewart is an excellent example of this. Sentenced to time in prison for insider training, Stewart came out ready to put the past behind her and move her career forward. Her prison time has become a mere mention in most articles; it’s no longer the primary focus.

The fundamentals of strong media relations really are the fundamentals of life – don’t lie, do the right thing and don’t dwell in the past.

I asked for a copy, which he willingly agreed to share. “Great,” I said. “I’ll be right over,” preparing to drop everything to drive across town and retrieve a photocopy.

“Do you have a fax machine?” he asked. “I can just fax it to you.”

Not understanding what he just said but not wanting to appear ignorant, I put him on hold and yelled over to my editor, “What’s a fax machine and do we have one?”

Indeed we did.

Discovering the fax machine changed my life professionally. I never imagined how reporters functioned before fax machines – or what better technology could possibly replace it.

Then came email and pdf files. And one’s fax machine became the dusty gadget in the corner buried beneath unsolicited “Travel to Cancun for $99!” fliers.

That is, until email no longer works.

A client and I are having difficulty exchanging emails. While our companies’ respective IT guys talk gibberish to each other to resolve the problem, I recently experienced déjà vu when I asked the question here, “Do we have a fax machine?”

Indeed we do.

As someone who spent her formative childhood years growing up in Orlando in Mickey Mouse’s shadow, I simply ADORE Disney World. I love every cheesy, magical and aggravating thing about the place and try to visit at least once a year. My parents and I just went with our 3-year-old daughter, Katherine.

When we checked into our offsite resort, the front-desk receptionist notified us that the complex now levies a $10-per-day fee for “resort amenities.”  Mom – who doesn’t like surprises, especially about money – demanded a full accounting of said amenities. The receptionist obviously heard the request before because she promptly whipped out a card listing details.

At the top of the list was “complimentary self-parking.”

That’s right – we were paying to park our car for free.

The list went downhill from there – maid service, cable TV, clean towels, free local phone calls. The same amenities any self-respecting Hampton Inn in the United States provides gratis.

My mom grumbled about the $10 daily amenities fee for the rest of the trip. Now, had the resort just charged $10 more per night without labeling it an “amenities fee” and boasting about free parking and clean towels, she wouldn’t have cared one whit. But because the resort positioned the fee as buying us something special – that really wasn’t special – she felt ripped off.

Companies, give your customers credit for being intelligent and discerning beings who are capable of knowing that paying to park one’s car for free isn’t an amenity.