What It Means to Run a Family Business

When the business stops being passed down, the opportunities start

By Alicen Hackney

Top: Burger Delite, Hyattsville Maryland; Bottom Left: Burger Delite, Alexandria, Va(Now Closed); Bottom Right: Weenie Beenie, Arlington, Va

Top: Burger Delite, Hyattsville Maryland; Bottom Left: Burger Delite, Alexandria, Va(Now Closed); Bottom Right: Weenie Beenie, Arlington, Va

Every Sunday, in elementary school, after church my family including my aunt, uncle, and three cousins, and sometimes even my grandma would gather at my dad’s restaurant on the corner of Pickett and Edsall. My cousins and I would run around playing waitress for our parents and grandma while my dad “played” chef. And, while his restaurant never had waitresses to start with, he would always give us little notepads for us to use to take down orders. Once everyone had made their orders and dad was getting cooking, all five of us girls would perch ourselves in the little ventilation window above the industrial sized bread toaster from where we could see the entire kitchen. While we sat cozy from the heat of the toaster, we would tell dad jokes and stories, and dad would show off on the grill, let us watch as the bread went on this log flume like ride down the toaster machine, and joke and tell stories right back at us.

The corner of Pickett and Edsall wasn’t in the best neighborhood, it was surrounded by low rent apartment complexes and industrial park type businesses. Kenilworth Avenue, where my dad’s other store is located, isn’t either. Both of his locations were surrounded by the impoverished areas pocketed near nice suburban areas. This is why my only memories of this place growing up were on Sunday’s when my dad could keep an eye on us and the doors locked. 

Growing up I always looked at this place with wonder in my eyes. I thought it was the coolest thing ever to have our own restaurant, and that nothing could be better than my dad’s grilled cheese and chicken salad. When I walked through the double set of doors, I was always greeted by the shoulder hight, mustached, wooden chef holding a plate covered in saran wrapped baked goods. Across from him was a pig in a chefs apron holding up a tray that was too high up to see what was on it. He stood atop a Pepsi fridge that had cake and pie in it. My favorite part about the store was always the giant menu board that hung above the cash register. My whole life, any time my dad needed to edit prices or add or take away menu items my mom, sister, and I would come help him on a Sunday. We would take the whole technicolor yellow and red board down and rearrange the stickers. No matter how many edits we made, my dad would always post pieces of paper to the bottom of the menu or to the side of the Pepsi fridge that detailed a special for the week or advertised a menu item he wanted to sell more of. 

Now, we’ve lost the brightly signed Burger Delite on the corner of Pickett and Edsall to a new land lord who spiked the rent, but the Kenilworth Avenue store remains ours, our family owns that land. Kenilworth Avenue is over an hour away from our house up in Maryland, and my dad makes the drive everyday. 

According to the Conway Center for Family Business, Family businesses account for approximately 80 to 90 percent of all business entrepreneurship in America, and only 30 percent of those family businesses are successful in getting passed down through generations. My family’s business has accomplished that once over, as my dad is the second generation to own the business which he co-owns with his siblings and mother. 

When my dad was young his father owned the business with a friend of his, who later relinquished the business to solely our family. At the age of 13 my dad began working in the restaurants which took up a lot of his time outside of school. This continued throughout his life, he has worked there ever since and has dropped many of his interests in order to keep the business running.

“Working in this business my whole life, I kind of lost the chance to test other things out and figure out who I wanted to be or what I wanted to do for my career. Working in the restaurants was always the answer,” he said over dinner. 

Every day my dad gets up with the sun to a cup of coffee from my mom, and heads out to restaurant depot to pick up pounds pounds of tomatoes, onions, beef, and more bottled drinks than you could imagine to stop the fridges and pantry with. From there he heads to the restaurant and opens shop, as long as one of his loyal workers hadn’t already. He unloads the entire truck of all of the food and drinks, and gets to work doing anything from making huge tubs of chicken salad to fixing and cleaning the soda machine and attached syrup bags. 

While the work may sound straight forward or simple, it is anything but that. The physical labor required for his job is extensive, and as he’s been doing this his entire life, it’s taken a toll on him.

“What makes it worth it, is now I get to give my girls the chance to figure out what they want to be. They’ll never work in the restaurants if they don’t want to, and I can support them in what they choose to do with their lives,” he said. He has never expected us to work in the restaurants and it’s unlikely either of us ever will.

In my high school years, my dad would only take me to work with him when I was grounded. He wanted to show me that if I didn’t study and push for a better life than he did I would end up working the long days that he does. As much as I did learn this lesson, I loved going to work with him for a day, getting to spend time with him and cut cake slices for the customers. 

While my dad doesn’t have me come with him anymore, and he has shown me the difficulties that come with the business, I still love and adore the memories I have of this place, and I wish I could go just about any time. To see my dad on the grill, smell the warm, greasy food, and help where I could. On the rare occasion he needs our help with the big technicolor menu board I will always go help. But I’m thankful to have been given the opportunity to choose my own path in life.