Owning a local pizzeria is not about serving slices, it’s about serving people. When a catastrophe is at hand, that’s the time you show your true grit and dedication to your town. This is not backseat time, it’s when you should intensify the role and lead by example in your community.
In 2007, a massive ice storm in Tulsa shut down most of the city’s roads. Iced-over power lines cracked in half, and everyone hunkered down. By some act of God, our restaurant still had power. For a lot of people in our small town – most of whom didn’t cook for themselves, or even the elderly – we became the go-to restaurant. We made a conscientious decision that if we could open safely, we would make it into work. Anyone who was willing to come in would serve customers, even if it meant picking those workers up and setting up convoys to do so.
Nearly two decades later, that is part of our culture. When things go sideways, we are there for our town. Now, let me be clear. I’m not glorifying being a martyr. If it’s too gnarly to get into work, we don’t. But when it is possible, we are open 363 days per year, closed only for Christmas and Thanksgiving. That tells our community that we are here even when everything looks bleak. We rally. We prep the line, we warm the ovens, and we let our community know: We’re here.
This level of consistency builds a core customer base who knows they can count on us for stability, which matters more than any promotion ever will. Even Waffle House goes by this mantra. The National Weather Service literally uses Waffle House as a barometer for storm severity: If a Waffle House is closed, you know things are bad. That’s the level of consistency and community relevance we are going for.
The other side of the coin is that sometimes the storm doesn’t hit you, but it destroys someone else’s livelihood. We’ve had no shortage of tornadoes in Tulsa, and across the United States, there have been floods, hurricanes and brutal wildfires that affect all of us. The way you show up in those moments is what sets your restaurant apart to make a lasting difference in your community’s minds and hearts – to know that you are one of them.
A great example is Mike and Mick Mahan from Parma Pizzeria in California. During the L.A. wildfires – while homes were burning and first responders were running ragged – they didn’t just keep their doors open, they fed the people on the frontlines. Emergency crews. Families left with nothing. They gave what they had, not because it would “go viral,” but because it was the right thing to do.
That’s humanity. That’s leadership.
Moments like these are why local restaurants will always matter more than massive chains. Chains can’t pivot like that. They can’t feel at home. But you can. You can be a refuge in a storm, both literally and metaphorically. You can make sure your team is cared for and your community is seen.
So, when the next crisis hits, ask yourself: Can the truck make it in? If so, fire up the ovens. Open your doors. Let people in. That’s how you don’t just survive the storm, you become part of the story people tell long after it passes.
Mike Bausch is the owner of Andolini’s Pizzeria in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Instagram: @mikeybausch
