This country has an almost infinite capacity to delight, frequently in ways that are so only-in-America. Among its wonders is, for the dwindling minority who do not know, a now rapidly expanding chain of gas stations/retail outlets (yes, yes, a dull description that doesn’t do it justice) named Buc-ee’s. I live in Manhattan, (mainly) travel in the Northeast, and when I go on long drives (for me, one of those American delights) it is in the desert Southwest: New Mexico, Arizona and, most recently, a remoter corner of Nevada (come for the aliens, and stay for the ghosts — and clowns). But never, strangely, to those parts of Texas — the home state of Buc-ee’s — that might fit that label. And so, until a welcome return to Tennessee, an old stamping ground, with NRI earlier this year, I had never seen a Buc-ee’s. That changed on the drive between Knoxville and Nashville when a (very patient) colleague allowed me to check out one that came into view, fully aware that I might be, in the words of Captain Oates, “some time.”
I was.
I bought things.
I’ve meant to write about that experience for a while, and I may yet, but Pirate Wires’ G. B. Rango got there before me. The Pirate Wires paywall is down for just a little while, so anyone can read his take on this “uniquely American blend of comfort, commerce, spectacle, and hometown folksiness.”
A couple of extracts:
Distilling the competing, elusive American ideals of materialistic self-indulgence and “home is where the heart is,” and appearing to dwell in the sweet spot between them, is why the Buc-ee’s experience has led to a cult-like following . . .
The business started decades ago and the two men who have driven its growth
banked on the idea that motorists would drive extra miles for a guaranteed-clean bathroom and well-supplied pit stop, a strategy which turned out to be wildly successful. While traditional gas stations generate around two-thirds of their total revenue through fuel sales, Buc-ee’s bucks the trend: two-thirds of its gross intake comes from “inside” sales (i.e. people buying food and merchandise in the store).
And then they added the vibe, or the vibe just emerged, or perhaps it was always there. I don’t know.
But back to some numbers:
Rango:
The Buc-ee’s revenue model, however, is a lot more than just swapping “gas” and “store sales” on a revenue pie chart. As the Cato Institute put it, “the story of Buc-ee’s is, along with being a must-stop place on the highway, a story of labor productivity, what drives it, and how it benefits both consumers and workers alike.” The scale and practices of Buc-ee’s mean that every employee is adding far more to the brand (and the bottom line) than your typical convenience store worker. Since each location is capable of serving upwards of 10,000 to 15,000 vehicles daily, and each of these customers is more valuable to the business due to its revenue distribution, Buc-ee’s can afford to pay wages far above the industry norm, attracting higher-quality employees and engendering company loyalty. This creates a positive feedback loop for the engine that drives Buc-ee’s forward.
And don’t forget those bathrooms.
Rango:
The Buc-ee’s bathrooms are the places where these wages make the most striking difference. I have been to countless Safeway, Shell, BP, and Chevron gas station bathrooms on cross-country drives…
Unpleasant images then follow. Horse flies are mentioned.
By contrast:
At Buc-ee’s, people appear personally motivated by a monastic sacredness to uphold sky-high cleanliness standards.
This is the way.