Every now and then, a story from outside our industry sneaks up and taps
us on the shoulder with a lesson worth learning. Case in point: Cracker Barrel.
Yes, the land of rocking chairs, peg games, and “4-Star” waitresses.
Not long ago, Cracker Barrel’s CEO, Julie Felss Masino, tried to give the
place a face-lift. Out went the Old Timer vibe, the cozy fireplace, and the
antiques hanging from every surface. In came slicker logos and fresher looks,
all aimed at pulling in a younger crowd. The problem? The people who loved
Cracker Barrel didn’t want a different crowd—they wanted their crowd. Even
President Trump took a shot at the new look.
I remember trying to hold a Builder Breakfast meeting in a Cracker Barrel
near Lewisburg, PA. The acoustics were so bad I nearly needed a megaphone to be
heard over the clatter. That was my first—and last—meeting there. Still, I kept
going back with my wife for the food and the store. At least until the
pandemic, when favorite menu items disappeared, the mood changed, and we
decided it just wasn’t “our place” anymore.
But then, something remarkable happened. The CEO listened. She pulled the
plug on the changes and went back to what Cracker Barrel always did best. When
my wife and I returned recently, we walked in to find the store unchanged and
the menu refreshed—more choices, fairer prices, and even some mix-and-match
options. The restaurant was buzzing with happy customers, the waitresses had
fuller sections, and even the tips were bigger. The cashier told me
point-blank: “Ever since the boss changed her mind, we’ve been packed.”
So what does this have to do with offsite and modular construction? A
lot, actually.
Too many factory owners get seduced by shiny new ideas. They change their
logos, chase new markets, or revamp production lines in ways their loyal
customers never asked for. They gamble on “attracting the next generation”
without realizing they’re alienating the current one. Sometimes those bold
moves work, but often they backfire.
The Cracker Barrel turnaround is a reminder that sometimes the smartest
move is not plowing ahead with a vision everyone hates—it’s pausing, listening,
and giving people the version of your company they already loved, with just
enough improvement to make it better.
Factories, like restaurants, have two sides: the “store” that sells
reliability and familiarity, and the “menu” that can be updated with fresh,
affordable options. Ignore either one and customers walk away. Balance them,
and people come back smiling, checks in hand.
So maybe the real lesson is this: Whether you’re serving biscuits or
building homes, don’t forget who brought you to the dance. And if you must
change, make sure your customers are still hungry for it.
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