Leaning Isn’t Leading
Recently, my daughter spent several birthdays at a pizza joint of her choosing.
It was actually just one birthday – her 14th – but we were there for so long I think she might have gotten her driver’s license, become eligible to vote, and possibly even picked up a senior citizen’s discount along the way.
The food was good enough. The atmosphere was good enough. But the initiative of the wait staff left a lot to be desired.
We were seated at a table that butted up to the pass, that little area where waiters and waitresses grab finished dishes and take them out to the tables. There were plenty enough wait staff – no fewer than ten; and plenty enough kitchen staff – no fewer than a dozen. An understaffed restaurant is one thing, but they were firing on all cylinders, labor-wise.
The problem came with the apathy and inattention that we observed with the team that gathered at the pass. We overheard snide remarks about the diners at their tables (“Babe listen: all the waitresses are talking about a bald guy who keeps taking angry notes for a future blog po-HEY WAIT A SECOND.“). We found out about their plans for the weekend. We observed as they were so engrossed in conversation that they didn’t see meals that were ready to go out.
The food took forever to come out. We had a running conversation with the four-top double date next to us, trying to determine which of us would die of hunger first. After waiting for over 20 minutes, we made the decision to order an appetizer, but never got the chance because our waitress had apparently fallen off the planet.
Finally, my wife and daughter’s meals arrived, leaving me to look longingly at my calzone that I could clearly see steaming in the pass window. It was ten feet away. I could see it. My family could see it. Our four-top neighbors could see it. But the gaggle of wait staff giggling between us and the pass? They couldn’t see it.
After gobbling up our meal (because #starvation) and waiting another 15+ minutes, the waitress finally brought the check. My friends, I’m no technophobe or luddite, but it was one of those foul new-fangled restaurant checks where you have to scan a code, download an app, set up a password, hand over the name of your first grade teacher, go back in time to save the last baby dinosaur, and only then do you finally get the privilege of paying.
The only problem was, this restaurant building was in a black hole of cell service. The wifi was spotty. Nary a bar appeared on my screen. I walked to the front of the restaurant. Wandered the sidewalk outside. Held my phone up to the sky. Nothing.
After another 10 minutes, our waitress came over and said, “Oh yeah, nobody can ever get any service in here. I guess I can just take that for you.” (As an aside, “Nobody can ever get any service in here” was true in more ways than one.)
Here’s the thing: I can be okay with mediocre food. Or a mediocre atmosphere. Or even a short-staffed pizza restaurant where the wait staff is cheerful and hustling like mad to keep up. But what chaps my mozzarella is when an overstaffed team focuses more on each other than on their job. When dishing on diners trumps getting dishes to the diners. When they spend more time leaning than they do leading.
Leaners can’t be leaders.
Now, before you chalk this up as “old man yells at cloud,” let me draw a parallel:
Often times we lean in the church world.
Let me drill down: often times I lean in the church world.
I gravitate to friends I know rather than strangers I’ve not met.
In a full lobby or auditorium, I can be more focused on my phone than focused on people.
Or I decide that maybe I don’t need to pick up that piece of trash or wipe down that bathroom counter or go restock the paper towels.
Sometimes I lean, and in those moments I don’t lead.
Where are you leaning right now?
