The Cracker Barrel chain of restaurants has backed off the disastrous plan they had to revamp their classic logo, which had featured an elderly white man in overalls (“Old Timer” or “Uncle Herschel”) leaning on a barrel. The new logo was a bland shape in the same orangey-brown color with just the words “Cracker Barrel” on it.

The public did not approve. Social media was filled with irate posts from Cracker Barrel customers who hated the new logo. Even President Donald Trump weighed in, in his inimitable fashion, urging the company to reconsider (and congratulating them when they reversed their earlier decision).

But it isn’t just the logo that got trashed. The company announced last year that the restaurants would be changing their interiors, as well. Instead of warm wood rooms with subdued lighting and walls covered with antiques, road signs and other Americana, the redesigned Cracker Barrels are spiffy and spare diners with bright lighting, white walls and geometrically placed clusters of cooking implements attached to contemporary squares of white-painted plywood.

Photos of some of the “new” Cracker Barrel eating areas look like interrogation rooms where the instruments for extracting confessions are hung on the walls.

In addition to the logo backpedal, it remains to be seen whether the company will also scrap the entire $700 million refurbishment, go back to the homey, kitschy decor Americans love, and focus instead on improving the quality of food, which the restaurant’s most loyal customers claim has declined in recent years.

Cracker Barrel CEO Julie Felss Masino came to the company after a stint as president of Taco Bell. (It would appear, however, that she had no role in that company’s blah remake of their logo, which makes the signs look like they were bleached out by the sun.) Listening to Masino’s chipper defenses of her decisions at Cracker Barrel is painful; they are strings of gobbledygook consultant-speak:

“Everybody I talked to in the journey, like when I was evaluating the opportunity, everybody had such affinity for the brand. They loved the brand. Like, everybody has an origin story for Cracker Barrel. … Whether it was like travel, soccer, growing up, or baseball, or going to their grandma’s house, like, everybody has this origin story. And, to me, the opportunity is, how do I get it out of people’s rearview mirror, and how do I get it into their daily kind of relevant choice set, you know, and make sure that it was something that really resonates with everybody of today and for tomorrow. … (It’s) about the brand, right? Making sure that we are communicating in a way that people want to hear us. They want to be a part of the journey. That we’re matching messaging with channel, with audience, you know things that modern marketers do.”

I’m sorry — what?

What does any of that have to do with hearty portions of comfort food that tastes like homemade, served in a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere where you’re encouraged to take your time, eat, play peg games and browse through rows of penny candy?

Watching the Cracker Barrel fiasco play out makes clear the similarities between corporate CEOs and politicians when they lose the plot. Only the vocabulary is different, really.

In business, you’re selling a product or service that customers need or want. In politics, you’re proposing policies that voters need or want.

When a business demonstrates that it cares about the quality of its products or services — and customers know it — we call that “brand loyalty” or “goodwill.”

Similarly, when candidates or elected officials run on specific policies and do their very best to get those policies enacted and enforced once elected, we call that “having the courage of your convictions.”

And in both business and politics, when you have leaders who don’t have in-depth knowledge of the product, service or social problems; don’t really understand the customers or voters; and care primarily about keeping their cushy job, with its prestige and its perks, what do they do?

They hire consultants.

Business and political consultants don’t necessarily have any greater understanding of the products, the policies or the people. But they have college degrees, they can do polls and surveys, and they get paid big bucks to put a shiny gloss on an empty box.

The results are a dead giveaway in both cases, as well.

Politicians whose campaigns are designed by consultants give a lot of speeches in which they say nothing of substance — emphatically, of course. They cannot speak extemporaneously or off teleprompter because they have no idea what to say unless someone writes it for them. And if they manage to get elected (typically, by offending no one because no one can tell what they really stand for), they vote whichever way the wind blows. They look alike, they sound alike, they are, for all intents and purposes, interchangeable in their fecklessness, self-interest and shallow cowardice.

So, too, is it with companies where the leadership didn’t build the product, doesn’t understand the customers, doesn’t really care about what has made the organization distinctive and successful. They’ll pay consultants, who will use trendy buzzwords that everyone else is using to justify doing exactly what everyone else is doing. And when they’re done, the buildings look the same, the interiors look the same, the services are indistinguishable from each other, the products are cookie-cutter copies of what everyone else is offering.

That, however, is a short-term fix. You can only do a glitzy sleight of hand for so long. It may take awhile — both corporations and political parties can coast for a long time on their past reputations — but eventually, voters and customers realize that they’ve been sold a bill of goods — an empty box or an empty suit. And when that realization sinks in, the party’s over.

Real success in business, as in politics, requires courage and authenticity, not bland conformity wrapped in euphemisms. And failure, for those who refuse to acknowledge that truth, is inevitable.

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