Finding his path: Local franchise changed Steve Joy’s life

By Jacob Sanchez | Photography by Rebecca Bachtel

Steve Joy wanted to be a city planner.

He kept his eye on that goal when he attended Kansas State University and earned his bachelor’s degree in geography in 1968. Joy was still far from achieving his goal. He joined the Air Force shortly after graduating from K-State. He felt obligated to serve his country. The United States was in the midst of the Vietnam War.

Still, Joy kept working toward his dream. He earned a master’s degree in public administration while in the Air Force.

All was going well — until a chicken crossed his path.

“Three years before I retired from the Air Force, a friend of mine and my wife’s was talking about Chick-fil-A,” Joy says, explaining that his friend, who he knew from church, worked for the company. “He says, ‘Why don’t you come try Chick-fil-A?’ I said, ‘Gee, I don’t know about that.’”

Joy wasn’t sure he was ready. He was still a couple of years from being eligible to retire from the Air Force. But he knew he needed a gig. After all, he had to support three children — two of whom were in college and another gearing up for their freshman year.

“I couldn’t retire retire,” Joy says.

So Joy sent in an application. Chick-fil-A called him up and gauged his interest. He was certain he wanted to do it, but he told them it would have to be after his military career ended.

A couple of years flew by. Joy retired from the Air Force after more than 20 years. It was time to take another pluck at becoming a Chick-fil-A franchisee.

“I got on with Chick-fil-A. This is where we settled, and we’ve been here for 30 years,” the longtime businessman says, raising his hands up from a table near the register area at his North Temple store.

It cost Joy $5,000 to get the rights to start his own Chick-fil-A franchise.

“The first thing the agreement that I signed some 30 years ago has never changed. That says a lot about a company,” Joy says, proudly wearing a Chick-fil-A name tag pinned over his heart on his gray herringbone sweater vest.

It costs $10,000 to become a franchisee today, according to the company.

“I didn’t have to put a great deal of money down because, when I came out of the Air Force, I didn’t have any debts but I also didn’t have a whole lot of money,” Joy says. “I had the ability to work hard. Sweat equity is what Chick-fil-A is looking for.”

It was a simpler time when Joy started running his first Chick-fil-A store. It was nothing like his current two stores. It did not have its own parking lot. You had to walk up to it. And it didn’t even have a drive-thru. The store was in the Temple Mall.

“That was it. Walk up to the counter and do your thing. That’s all we had to worry about,” Joy says.

The menu was simple, too. Chicken sandwiches. Fries. Drinks. And pie. That was it.

Nowadays that space is occupied by military recruiters and the menu is more complicated. There are spicy chicken strips, nuggets, salads, soups, milkshakes — even breakfast.

Eventually, Joy would set up his first standalone Chick-fil-A. That store was at 3306 S. 31st St. in Temple.

It was a big upgrade from the mall. The historic restaurant featured not just one drive-thru, but two. It was the first drive-thru-only location in Texas. Each shift had six to seven workers.

That store opened 25 years ago. It was shuttered earlier this year, and a new, modern Chick-fil-A was built across the street at 3303 S. 31st St. It opened in September.

“By the time we closed it, we were using 23 to 25 people for a noon hour shift,” Joy says. “Of course, that’s our busiest time.”

It was hard for Joy to shut down his first store.

“There were so many good memories there,” he says. “But we were walking away to a very nice installation. It was worth it.”

More than 140 people work for Joy between his two Chick-fil-A locations in Temple. Joy enjoys his work because of his crew.

“I love coming to work every day and working with my people. I truly do,” he says. “If I didn’t do that, I would retire. I thoroughly enjoy working with my people. I just enjoy coming in and having a conversation with them, kidding them, letting them kid me.

“These are my friends who I’m working with every day. Yeah, I’m their boss,” he demurs, “but these are my friends.”
Joy’s goal of becoming a city planner never came to fruition. As all planners — or would-be planners — should know, the best laid plans often go awry.

Roosting at Chick-fil-A was for the best for the 73-year-old grandfather of nine.

“It’s changed my life — it really has.”