In-N-Out Burger (17 page)

As a result, In-N-Out could also boast one of the lowest turnover rates in a high-churn industry. According to various analyses, in the fast-food world, little more than half of the workforce stays
behind the counter for one year or more, with roughly 75 percent of employees staying on beyond six months. After that, the numbers decrease substantially: 53 percent remain one year, 25 percent stay two years, and only 12 percent remain three years or longer. In the case of In-N-Out Burger, its managers maintained an average tenure of fourteen years, while its part-time associates remained, on average, two years.

The result was a corporate culture operating in stark contrast to the competition's systems of burger flippers and vat fryers, floor moppers and cashiers who put on their paper hats and grease-stained aprons in what society calls McJobs and economists refer to as the requisite churn of capitalism. It was a place where people genuinely enjoyed getting up in the morning and going to work. Rich explained it this way: “We try and maintain the highest quality level possible, and to do that you need good training and good people. That's why we pay the highest wages in the industry.” He added, “It means we tend to keep our employees longer than at other places, and the reduced turnover helps us maintain consistency in our products.” Notably, the philosophy did not trade on or lead to either higher prices or lower-quality food.

 

For its part, In-N-Out was selective in its employment process. When hiring, the chain probed a potential candidate for her ability to not only meet but exceed customers' expectations while working as a team. Interviewers asked detailed questions, zeroing in on the candidate's view on interacting with others, looking for signs of flexibility and the ability to deal with people holding a spectrum of opinions. Just as Harry frequently told his son, Rich looked at his associates and said, “I believe in you. You are the best.”

The associates were considered the chain's front lines. For starters, all were required to keep up a clean-cut appearance. All hires were expected to maintain a friendly attitude toward customers (or, rather, “guests”), smiling and looking them straight in the eye. “Times are tough,” he told them. “People are going through a lot. The only smile or friendly service they get might be the one you give
them.” Rich felt so strongly about it that he launched a “Smile of the Month” feature on
Burger TV
to recognize the associate who demonstrated the best smile.

New hires started at the bottom, picking up trash, wiping counters, and putting orders in trays for customers. After proving that they had mastered their current assignment, associates moved up the ladder to filling beverages, dressing burgers, and frying potatoes. The counter associates were instructed to always repeat orders, ensuring that each one was absolutely correct. “They didn't just hire anybody,” recalled Russ Nielson, who worked part-time at the Hesperia store for one year when he was sixteen years old in 1990. “They wanted to make sure that you had moderate intelligence and were above average. I remember there was constantly an influx of applications all of the time. Everybody wanted to work there. It was good money, and you could eat for free, too.”

Associates were never hung out to dry. They were given specific on-the-job training during slow periods and a considerable amount of feedback on their performance. The point was to make sure that each associate understood his job and how he could do better, and associates were given more of a customer load and more responsibility incrementally and according to their abilities. The elapsed time between starting in cleanup and working the french fry vats could be as long as a year and a half.

Although the work could be monotonous and dreary, four-hour shifts of cleaning ketchup spills or doing nothing but filling soft drink cups with soda, associates were made to feel that they were part of an important enterprise and all were given the opportunity to advance. At In-N-Out, they had a future. There were numerous part-timers who joined In-N-Out for a summer or as an after school job and stayed on, becoming store managers, moving further up the corporate management ranks, and making lucrative careers at the burger chain. Like his father, Harry, Rich expected much from his associates, but in turn he treated them extremely well and continued to offer them opportunities to continue their education and expand their skills and talents.

In order to maintain the chain's strict quality standards even as it grew, Rich implemented a small army of “secret shoppers.” These undercover customers went from store to store on a monthly basis, making sure that associates were properly dressed and clean, orders were correct, food was presented properly, and even that the right amount of change was given. Sometimes they'd order complex meals to see whether they could trip up an associate. But associates never had any idea until afterward. If they performed badly, they were informed and given opportunities to do better, unless their performance was egregious. An exceptionally good performance was usually rewarded with a small cash bonus. In essence, the secret shopper system was really just a larger-scale variation on Esther and Harry's frequent store visits. As a former associate put it, “They were mostly looking for perfection.”

 

Rich earned a reputation as a passionate leader who led by personality. A consummate professional, he always had a smile on his face and seemed to effortlessly convey a deep emotional commitment to In-N-Out that extended to all of his associates. Like his parents, he visited the stores often and chatted up the associates whom he still made a point of knowing by name. His connection to the company was matched by his deep feeling for everyone who worked there. As one of his friends later recalled, “He never acted like the boss. I remember once I made the mistake of calling the workers ‘employees' instead of ‘associates,' and he corrected me instantly.” On several occasions, Rich asked colleagues to look up the words “associate” and “employee” in the dictionary. Then he would say, “I'd rather have an associate work for me than an employee.”

Rich set the tone for the company. Each year, he held a company-wide picnic for all associates and their families. The picnic was spread out over two days so that all In-N-Out shifts could be accommodated, and the company chartered buses that ferried the attendees to the picnic grounds. Once there they found an unlimited supply of food (all gratis) and games and activities such as hot air balloon
rides. And there were always raffle contests in which TVs, trips, video games, and the latest technological gadgets were available as prizes. There were trips to Knott's Berry Farm as well as Halloween parties for associates and staffers and elaborate Christmas parties where, on occasion, Rich would truck in real snow, to the delight of the associates and their children.

At the start of each year, Rich threw a black-tie, gala dinner for associates often held in one of the ballrooms at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim. The night before the gala, Rich held a kick-off dinner for all of the managers and any associate who wanted to attend. During these occasions, he usually invited a slew of marquee names from a variety of areas—particularly professional sports—to attend. Through the years, Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda, Lakers head coach Pat Riley, and the basketball team's executive Jerry West gave motivational speeches to In-N-Out's top managers. “We want them to share some of their insights,” Ken Iriart, the chain's vice president of human resources, once explained to the
Los Angeles Business Journal
. “Some of these people went into good detail about what went into building a winning team, and some of these same things apply to business.”

The gala was a combination fete, cheerleading session, award ceremony, and black-tie affair, all rolled into one. At the dinner, the Snyders handed out the Harry Snyder Award—In-N-Out's version of employee of the year—to its most outstanding associate. It was the time when new managers were named. Another hallmark of the annual gala was the announcement of the location of the upcoming year's 100 Percent Club trips. Esther Snyder loved to travel, and a few years after Rich had begun running In-N-Out, they came up with a special program to reward managers when they reached their goals. Those named to the club (along with their spouses) were awarded first class trips to such places as Hawaii, the Caribbean, Australia, and Europe. During the course of the trips, Rich often invited big-name speakers to continue to inspire the managers.

In his mind, In-N-Out managers were just as important as the executives at any Fortune 500 company. That's why Rich created
the annual gala; it's why he took his executives to numerous cultural events. At a Christmas time performance of the
Nutcracker
ballet, Rich required his managers to wear tuxedos. Rich thought they stood shoulder to shoulder with any blue chip manager, and he wanted them to feel similarly.

Soon In-N-Out Burger began attracting serious attention. Over the years, the media-shy Snyders had given very few interviews, and those few were usually with the
San Gabriel Valley Tribune
, which covered the chain largely as a popular local story. There were of course various mentions and articles in trade publications, but the Snyder family participated only infrequently. Before long, however, the In-N-Out phenomenon had become hard to ignore. In 1989,
Forbes
magazine featured In-N-Out in a glowing article entitled “Where Bob Hope Buys His Hamburgers,” declaring that the “anti-fad has become a fad.” For the publication that bears the motto “Capitalist Tool,” Rich Snyder not only agreed to be interviewed, but the smiling In-N-Out president was photographed in shirtsleeves and a tie, holding a cardboard box stuffed with a Double-Double and french fries. Although the family did little to encourage further publicity, soon after the
Forbes
article, a passel of stories about In-N-Out Burger began to appear.

The media attention certainly helped to generate a new level of interest in the small regional chain, but nothing gave it more publicity (or sales) then its own longtime customers. Staying simple and remaining focused on its core values had allowed In-N-Out to stay true to its loyal fan base. And it was precisely those customers who often did the heavy lifting, frequently boasting about their zealous affection for the chain to everybody else. Regulars (who almost
always ordered off of the secret menu) engaged in an ongoing contest, trying to outdo each other on how many hamburgers they could eat at any one time. Colorado native Duke Sherman proudly recounted the episode that occurred when he was studying for final exams at Occidental College in Eagle Rock, a northeastern Los Angeles neighborhood. “Four of my dorm mates—two football players, a violinist, and a rugby player—decided we would make In-N-Out history,” was how his story began. The plan was to head to the nearest In-N-Out in Pasadena, about five miles from campus, and each attempt to consume twenty-five Double-Doubles in one hour. “We made quite a scene that night as we ordered and ate with great fervor,” he recalled years later, after moving to New York and launching his own consulting firm. “I think we would have been more successful had the staff not provided free fries to help get us in the spirit. But the bacchanal did not last long, and we set no records. We left In-N-Out men that night, men who were complete, men who were nauseous.”

Such ignominious tales of ingenuity and one-upmanship reached an apogee many years later on Halloween night in 2004, when a group of eight San Francisco friends famously ordered and finished a 100 x 100 (one hundred beef patties and one hundred slices of cheese) at a Las Vegas In-N-Out. The tab for the monster cheeseburger: $97.66.

The swapping of stories about the lengths to which one would go in order to eat at an In-N-Out further fueled the chain's mystique. Richard Clark, the owner of Clark Copper Head Gaskets in Minneapolis, boasted of paying over one hundred dollars in freight to fly forty Double-Doubles from the Ontario In-N-Out for his son's twenty-first birthday. A former dragster, Clark ate his first In-N-Out burger in 1971 while he was on the circuit and still gets misty-eyed when he talks about the chain. “They're just the greatest hamburgers ever made,” he trilled. “Whenever I fly into California, I get the rental car and then go to the In-N-Out. Even before I check into my hotel room, I'll eat a couple of Double-Doubles at one sitting. If I'm there five days, I eat one every day.” Clark sighed, adding: “My son-in-law is out West, and when he goes to In-N-Out he'll call me and say: ‘Hey I'm eating a Double-Double,' and hang up just to piss me off.”

As its competitors looked on with envy, the chain's regulars assumed the responsibility of bringing in a constant stream of new devotees, an act generally referred to as “the conversion.” The deed had the feel of bestowing membership into a club that seemed at once exclusive and egalitarian.

The prototypical conversion story goes something like this: “I was one of the converts,” proclaimed Angela Courtin, a marketing executive in Los Angeles. “I moved here from Texas. My brother was already here, and he said, ‘You have to try In-N-Out.' After that, I started going once a week. I love the simplicity of the menu, and it's fresh. A friend of a friend let me in on the secret menu. After that, I felt I must pass this on and tell other newbies—and I've done that for numerous people. Actually, I feel it's akin to my civic duty. I've always said that In-In-Out is the perfect blend of communism and democracy. There are limited choices, but it is an entrepreneurial family business. It is the great class equalizer. Look inside! You get everybody here: middle-class skateboarders and Beverly Hills ladies, ethnic families and day laborers, all eating in the same restaurant, at the same price point, and with the same three options.”

Master chef and American food pioneer Julia Child, a California native, counted herself a longtime fan. Nancy Verde Barr, Child's friend and assistant, wrote fondly in her own memoir,
Backstage with Julia: My Years with Julia Child
, about the day when the two “gobbled down Double-Double burgers at the In-N-Out drive-through” near Child's Santa Barbara home. Indeed, the woman whose kitchen was eventually displayed in the Smithsonian Institution was said to carry a list of store locations in her pocketbook.

A Hollywood favorite from its first days, In-N-Out had in the intervening years become as much a part of celebrity culture as autographs or the red carpet. Without losing any of its homespun appeal, the burger chain's popularity among the in-crowd was entirely the result of a wide swath of celebrities who regularly talked it up. “When I first joined the band, we must have eaten there at least three days a week,” recalled rocker Sammy Hagar, who signed up as the front man for Van Halen in 1985. “We were in the studio recording
5150
,
and we'd send someone to go get food, and we'd talk about sushi or pizza and always end up with In-N-Out.” Gordon Ramsay, the British celebrity chef with twelve Michelin stars, global fame, and profanity-laced rants, once admitted to sitting down for a Double-Double and then “minutes later I drove back 'round and got the same thing again to take away.” PGA golf champ Phil Mickelson mentioned the chain so often that whenever he fell into a losing streak, sportswriters began suggesting that he cut back on the Double-Doubles.

Before long, tourists got wind of In-N-Out Burger and began making their own pilgrimages to what was considered the quintessential Southern California attraction. Fans passed the secret menu on to one another and described the sublime pleasures of tucking into an Animal Style cheeseburger. Vegetarians talked up the chain's off-menu Grilled Cheese. Expatriate Californians pined for their favorite burger, and In-N-Out T-shirts were the epitome of cool. Analysts spoke of In-N-Out's “uncopyable advantage,” while everybody else talked about its unparalleled cult following. According to William Martin, the Snyders and the rest of the chain's highest echelon were definitely conscious of the mystique that had developed around In-N-Out. “They were all aware of it, and they loved it,” he said. “But they had no explanation for it.” That didn't mean, however, that they didn't know how use it.

 

In another radical departure from Harry, Rich began implementing a more aggressive approach to marketing the chain. In 1977, only a year after he took over, Rich launched In-N-Out's first television commercial. The brief animated spot featured a cowboy astride a horse riding up to an In-N-Out and ordering a Double-Double. Under Rich, the chain launched a radio jingle with the catchy refrain: “In-N-Out, In-N-Out, that's what a hamburger is all about,” and it fast became something of a Southern California anthem. Despite the high-voltage marketing, Rich was careful to ensure that its message—like the company itself—remained focused on the product. It did not, as had become commonplace among its competitors, revolve
around some kind of manufactured experience. Before long, a pair of new slogans, “Quality You Can Taste” and “Cleanliness You Can See,” appeared. Consumers felt a connection with In-N-Out's simple, almost quaint brand, and it was clear that Rich knew the value in preserving that.

For some time, In-N-Out's signature logo had served as an important advertising feature. Echoing the days when roadside diners attracted travelers with their kitschy neon architecture, In-N-Outs strategically placed along freeway off-ramps served much the same purpose. The yellow boomerang arrow was a beacon for weary and hungry travelers. As it turned out, In-N-Out's real estate was one of its best marketing strategies. Continuing with that theme and playing up its roots as a drive-through, the chain began printing up maps pinpointing stores and their addresses for its customers. In time, In-N-Out produced a compact, pocket-sized location booklet, later setting up a toll-free number. In addition to asking questions about everything from the amount of fat in a cheeseburger (twenty-seven grams) to what kind of oil the french fries are fried in (100 percent vegetable oil), drivers on the road could call in and tell an operator where they were and be directed to the nearest In-N-Out. (That feature was updated in later years when In-N-Out installed a map finder on its website that plotted all the In-N-Out stores in any given location.)

Reaching back to In-N-Out's early days when roadside diners were exploding and transforming the landscape, the chain deployed a deceptively simple billboard strategy that traded heavily on the chain's postwar image. Intentionally placing the large signs on streets leading to an In-N-Out, they often said little more than “In-N-Out Burger 2.5 Miles Ahead.” Usually the billboards were accompanied by a three-dimensional, oversized replica of a Double-Double. When an ad agency came up with the idea to tempt drivers further by having artificial steam rise from the burger, Rich eagerly signed on.

One of In-N-Out's most successful marketing strategies came in the form of bumper stickers. In Southern California, starting in the early 1980s, placing an In-N-Out sticker on the back of one's car signified membership in a peculiar sort of club; all along the
freeways, horns were honked, thumbs were raised, and heads were tipped in recognition.

At one point, it became common practice among young men across the Southland to excise the “B” and “R” from the word B-U-R-G-E-R, modifying the sticker to read “IN-N-OUT URGE”; the clean-cut company was not amused. As a result, the chain discontinued the original sticker and printed up a new one. This time a well-placed image of a Double-Double was placed on the spot where the word “burger” once stood.

In 1984, Rich used the widespread popularity of the chain's bumper stickers to launch one of In-N-Out's largest and most successful promotional initiatives: a chain-wide sweepstakes contest. During several month-long periods, In-N-Out gave away its sought-after bumper stickers, and spotters were instructed to jot down the license plate numbers of cars bearing the chain's stickers. The numbers were then entered into a series of drawings. Prizes included trips to Hawaii, microwave ovens, video recorders, and In-N-Out T-shirts. Advertised on billboards all over the greater Los Angeles area, customers helped the campaign with a grassroots effort of their own, passing the word along. In a town built on dreams, cars, and sunshine, the promotion became one of those curious Los Angeles cultural events wherein eating a burger might win you a moment of fame and a trip to the beaches of Waikiki. (Decades later, buttons and other ephemera from the original sweepstakes were sold on eBay)

The promotion combined two of Los Angeles's cultural icons (hamburgers and cars), played up In-N-Out's core values, and was relatively inexpensive to put on. It also packed an incredible public relations wallop. As the trade publication
Nation's Restaurant News
marveled at the time, “The burger Goliaths doing business in Southern California must surely envy the kind of hometown customer enthusiasm which can turn little David in the form of In-N-Out into a self-advertising car cult.”

On its home turf, simply through word of mouth and bumper stickers, In-N-Out had become as well-known as Disneyland or McDonald's. Reported estimates on In-N-Out's advertising budget
ranged from $1 million annually, increasing later to between $5 and $10 million—a drop in the bucket compared to the budgets of its fast-food rivals, who routinely poured hundreds of millions of dollars into their own yearly campaigns. With a continual demand for In-N-Out's burgers, the chain had little need for the kind of sophisticated multiplatform campaigns that its rivals regularly employed. In-N-Out relied on its radio jingle and the infrequent television commercial (usually broadcast on cable). Astonishingly, its billboards, bumper stickers, T-shirts, and its own rabid fans seemed to broadcast the message to great effect. Without corporate solicitation, a roster of celebrity names regularly endorsed the chain.

Straightforward and uncomplicated, the chain's marketing efforts really added up to an awareness campaign that casually reminded people about In-N-Out. As Robert LePlae, the president of TBWA/Chiat/Day, the advertising giant behind memorable campaigns for Levi's, Taco Bell, and Apple Computer, acknowledged, “Their marketing is really brilliant. The best marketing is word of mouth, and they have that. You can't get that through traditional media.” Moreover, LePlae was full of praise for the simple fact that In-N-Out hadn't sold its soul. “They don't abuse the privilege that they have built up with their customers.” While heading up the agency's Los Angeles office between 2001 and 2005, the self-confessed In-N-Out fan—who fondly recalled ordering cookout trailers for big agency parties and taking out-of-town clients to In-N-Out—says he learned to master the art of the “one hand on the steering wheel and the other one on the Double-Double.” “They haven't commercialized the secret menu,” he enthused. “There is a powerful trust between the company and the customers that is deeply ingrained. I'm not sure if it was intentional, but it is not the kind of thing a big, massive company could do. They would merchandise every little thing.”