Welcome to Government Watch, a weekly Restaurant Business column focused on politics, regulation, legislation, and other governmental issues of relevance to the restaurant industry. This week's edition looks at what happened (or didn't) during the third meeting of California's Fast Food Council, the quasi-government agency that's empowered to set the minimum wage for the state's fast-food workers. It also reports on what happened when a restaurant is tied to rumors of pets being cooked for dinner, like the allegations that were aired during Tuesday's presidential debate.
California’s experiment with an alternate way of setting fast-food wages isn’t going so well.
The third meeting of the state Fast Food Council, the panel of workers and employers who’ve been empowered to collaboratively set the pay floor for quick-service restaurants in the state, met yesterday in Los Angeles for almost a full business day. Yet so little actual business was conducted that participants asked for clarification of what they were supposed to be doing during the get-together.
Instead of discussing any issues of heft, the panel listened to about 3.5 hours of testimony that the fast-food business provides either an unparalleled opportunity for social advancement or the worst employment experience outside of a Siberian gulag. Dozens of employees and employers sounded off for about two minutes each about their personal experiences in the trade, which all agreed is under unprecedented duress at the moment.
The presentations were clearly choreographed by groups like the Save Local Restaurants employer coalition on one side and labor unions on the other. Indeed, the employers who commented all sported a stick-on badge that identified them as soldiers in the employers’ cause.
One after another recounted how they started with nothing—most identified themselves as either first- or second-generation immigrants—and ended up with an unexpectedly good life thanks to the fast-food business. For just about all, the kicker was an assertion they are now closing restaurants, cutting hours and eliminating jobs because of the $20-an-hour minimum wage that was forced on them April 1. Closings would only accelerate if the Council approved a hike for 2025, they warned.
Employee presenters, many sporting the purple T-shirts of the Service Employees International Union, attested that they, too, have found opportunity in the business. But that, they emphasized, hasn’t spared them from abusive on-the-job treatment from employers who blatantly disregard the law.
They urged the Council to do more to curb those practices, even though directives to change operations are outside the panel’s purview. It can only recommend changes to regulatory agencies that function independently of the group.
None of the employee presenters countered employers’ contentions that restaurants’ survival has never been more uncertain in the Golden State. But at least one noted the owners and operators of fast-food restaurants tend to earn geometrically more than their employees despite the downturn.
Both parties had mustered their proxies with an expectation the Council would address issues of substance, including whether to raise the minimum wage for most fast-food workers in the state on Jan. 1. Under the bylaws of the panel, it can raise the pay level annually by up to 3.5% or the rate of inflation.
Union representatives had alerted the media before the meeting that restaurant workers would be on hand to pressure the Council into visiting the field and witnessing fast-food working conditions firsthand.
Save Local Restaurants had presented Council members beforehand with a plea signed by the representatives of 300 family-run fast-food restaurants in the state. It besieged the group to forgo raising fast food’s minimum wage again, arguing that an increase would lead to cuts in jobs and hours and hurt the very people a pay hike is intended to help.
Despite the contradictory demands, employers and employees showed pronounced deference to one another during the marathon Council meeting. After one worker contended that an employer had stolen her wages, an employer offered to put her in touch with a labor lawyer who could get the money for her. Another restaurant proprietor said he’d fix her up with a job elsewhere.
One labor representative on the panel mentioned that increasing the frequency of Council meetings would prove an economic detriment to her; each time, she’d have to take time away from work and forgo a chunk of pay. Two employer representatives volunteered to sign over the $100 fee they and other members are paid per meeting to the worker so she wouldn’t feel the pinch.
Despite the amity, little was achieved during Wednesday’s meeting. The two solid outcomes were an agreement that a director needed to be hired quickly to avoid tail-chasing in future meetings, and the creation of a subcommittee to define the position’s functions and responsibilities.
A union representative on the Council, the SEIU’s Joseph Bryant, asked that the agenda for the next full meeting include a review of the worker demands that were submitted months ago to the group. Included on the list was a call for raising the minimum wage by the maximum allowable margin.
He also asked that attention be directed at workers’ complaints about the unpredictability of how many hours they’re granted.
Richard Reinis, whose family runs the Krispy Kreme franchise in California, suggested the next meeting focus on generating a statistical foundation for the Council’s work. For instance, he said, assessments of the April wage hike’s impact vary widely from stakeholder to stakeholder. There should be a dependable, objective gauge of the fallout, and not just within the fast-food business. He suggested that the overall influence on the state economy be quantified.
The next meeting, though just of the new five-person subcommittee, is scheduled for Sept. 30.
The Council’s activities are being closely watched by fast-food employers everywhere because of organized labor’s indications that it’d like to see the model exported wholesale to other jurisdictions. The panel is the first of its kind. Union officials have readily called the situation in California a test of the concept.
Pet-eating allegations can take a bite out of restaurants
One of the most bizarre elements of the presidential campaign has been the Republican ticket’s assertion that immigrants in Ohio are stealing and eating residents’ pet dogs. Incontrovertibly debunked, the contention has drawn the sort of ridicule that’s triggered by suggestions the moon landing was faked or Elvis is still alive.
A restaurateur in Fresno, California, isn’t likely laughing. Last year, according to an Associated Press story, David Rasavong had to shut his namesake pan-Asian restaurant just six months after it opened because of rumors that dog meat was an ingredient in some of the Laotion and Thai dishes. Suspicions were roused by a passerby who reported seeing a pooch tied up outside a house near the venture. That was enough to spur speculation the pit bull could be an upcoming night’s special. After all, the restaurant and Rasavong were Asian, and don’t Asians eat Spot and Fido without a second thought?
One elderly consumer suggested Rasavong go back to where his family came from if he wanted to munch a yorkie or terrier.
After throwing in the napkin on David Rasavong’s, the restaurateur pivoted and opened a place early this year called Love & Thai.
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