Communicating the Message

The Chart House in New Orleans occupied the upstairs of this historic building in Jackson Square.

I first met Chuck Rogers behind the bar at the Chart House in New Orleans. Perched on the corner of Jackson Square, the restaurant hummed with energy—a perfect spot to work and unwind. I'd just transferred from one of the locations in New England as the new Assistant Manager, working under my good friend John Anderson.

Chuck shined as a bartender. His easy laugh and quick wit made customers feel at home, and his drink-mixing skills were top-notch. But one crucial task kept slipping through his fingers: locking the safe at closing time.

Morning after morning, John would arrive to find the safe door closed but unlocked—our entire night's earnings vulnerable. Despite gentle reminders, Chuck's forgetfulness continued. Finally, John turned the problem over to me. "You need to make him understand how serious this is."

That evening, I caught Chuck before the dinner rush. I pulled him into a quiet corner and said. "Chuck, the money in that safe pays everyone's bills. Last night, it was unlocked again." I leaned closer, my eyes boring into his. "This is serious. I will not tell you again."

Something in my tone made Chuck's smile vanish. He nodded once, swallowing hard.

From that night forward, the safe was locked tight every morning. The issue vanished so completely I forgot our conversation.

Years later, I heard Chuck had opened his own restaurant near Six Flags Magic Mountain. While driving up the 5 Freeway to visit my brother, I pulled off at Castaic Junction to see how he was doing.

We laughed about our Chart House days and wild Mardi Gras memories. Then Chuck's expression turned serious.

"You taught me something important," he said. "Remember that safe I kept forgetting to lock?" He looked down at his hands. "I knew you were a Marine officer who'd served in Vietnam. When you spoke to me that night, I honestly wondered if forgetting again meant you'd fire me on the spot—or worse, take me out back and make me disappear."

His words hit me. I'd never mentioned consequences, but my military background had spoken volumes. I learned the message often isn't in the words, but the delivery.