goidel.net

My wife and I recently had the pleasure of lunching in NY with my esteemed friend, Peter Firestein. Because of timing and prxoimity we decided to dine at the venerable (and touristy) Carnegie Deli at 7th Ave and 55th.

This place is legendary. USA Today has called it “the most famous deli in the United States.” It’s over 70 years old, has been in many movies, and served many famous people, whose pictures adorn the walls.

If you’re ever in NY, don’t bother. Not in our group’s opinion anyway. This place jumped the shark years ago.

What you get is lots of food (lots of it) and some NY attitude. The quality, however, is, at best, completely mediocre; totally uninspiring.

It was so bad that Peter asked forgiveness, almost like he was asking on behalf of the entire city of NY. (All’s forgiven, Peter; the time with you was much more important than the Turkey Reuben.)

Why is this place still in business? For what purpose? To rake in money from tourists? Is that what Milton Parker imagined when he opened the place in ‘37? Is that what his grand-daughter-in-law, Sandy Levine, cares about now?

It’s a sad story for a company, when it no longer connects with the values that gave rise to its fame and fortune, or at least some equally important reason for being.

Give me half the food, but make it great. I’ll walk away satisfied and happily spread the news (instead of tell people waiting in line what a waste it was).

You’d think a 70-year-old business would be wise enough to know that lesson. You’d hope there’s a value statement someplace that every employee can access and respond to with a truthful: “Yes, we still do that and I’m happy to come here and be part of that story.”

Being famous for being famous doesn’t seem like a sustainable business model. Unless your company mantra happens to be “there’s a sucker born every minute.”