I am THAT Old Guy Now!

Back in My Day…

It was a different lifestyle back then. Like Chef Bourdain said, “Food is sex. My favorite kitchen colleagues are drunks, junkies, and ex-cons, all profane beyond imagination… They dressed like pirates.”

I remember giving the older cooks shit if they didn’t move as fast as me. Turns out life has a funny way of flipping the script.

In my generation, if you worked a ten-hour shift, that was “banker’s hours.” You said “Oui, Chef” no matter what. I remember sitting in food safety courses hearing, “If you have these symptoms, stay home.” Stay home? There was no such thing.

I’ve gone to the ER, gotten meds, and gone right back to finish my shift, not for a bonus, not for praise, but because I didn’t want to let my team down.

The Toll We Pay

When I was the property chef at the Marriott Singer Island, I was cooking through the “dead zone” between lunch and dinner when my vision tunneled and my knees buckled. I hit the floor. A FOH manager happened to walk by, scooped me up, and got me to the hospital.

When I came back, HR sent me home to rest. A while later, I was terminated. At the time, I thought, I literally gave you my all.

It took ten more years to realize the truth: my mental and physical health were more important than any shift.

But my generation? We wore burnout like a badge. “It’s what we do. You signed up for this shit.” No empathy. No compassion.

Breaking the Cycle

I made a vow: I would never be that chef. I knew the feeling of being treated like a piece of shit who meant nothing unless you hit someone else’s version of perfection. I came from a family of abuse, my job wasn’t going to become my abuser too.

So I led differently.

When a cook put up bad food, I didn’t scream. I’d ask, “How would you rate this?” They’d usually admit, “It’s shit, Chef.” Then I’d ask, “Would you serve this to your mother?” That conversation changed more cooks than any screaming ever could.

When someone nailed a dish, I stopped the line. “Who made this?” I’d shout. Nervous hands would go up. “What’s wrong with it?” I’d pause, then say, “Absolutely nothing. This is perfection. Show everyone how to plate it exactly like this.”

The smiles. The pats on the back. That’s leadership.

The Generational Gap

Today, Gen Z gets called lazy. Sometimes by their own peers. Recently, I sold my 7.5-foot smoker, “The Beast,” and the 20-year-old buying it told me flat out, “Yeah, my generation is lazy.”

Here’s the thing: Gen X loves to haze the “new kid” just like we were hazed. But if you can’t find good help, maybe the common denominator is how you treat people.

Hospitality turnover averages 74% annually: five times the national average. In restaurants, it’s over 75%, with some segments over 100%.

Training a single new FOH employee costs 28 hours and $868. BOH? 36 hours and $1,062. That’s before you factor in the cost of wasted product during training.

Keep hazing your people if you want. But when you have to close because no one will work for you, don’t blame them.

The Mental Health Crisis We Ignore

Now the part that no one wants to talk about:

• Suicide rates for male chefs: 66.9 per 100,000, nearly double the average for working-age men (32.0).

• Female chefs: 32.9 per 100,000.

• 52% of food service workers cite mental toll as the main reason for leaving their jobs.

• In the UK, 50% of hospitality workers have reported thoughts of self-harm or suicide at work.

• Youth (10–24 years old): 11.0 per 100,000, up 62% since 2007. It’s now the second leading cause of death.

Let that sink in: for high school students, suicide is the third leading cause of death.

The Choice We Have to Make

When a cook asks for a mental health day, you can roll your eyes. You can call them weak or lazy.

Or you can ask yourself, What if this is the day they don’t come back at all?

We go above and beyond for guests every single day. But for ourselves? For our teams? We demand they be robots.

All they’re asking for is balance. And we shame them for it.

It’s time to stop. Time to drag this industry out of the dark ages. Time to demand work-life balance as fiercely as we demand a perfect plate.

I’ve been to the darkness. I’ve worked through the pain. I’m still here.

And this old guy wants to make damn sure the next generation makes it too. If your team fears you more than they trust you, you’re not leading, you’re breaking them.

The next time you call a cook lazy, ask yourself, are you pushing them to grow, or pushing them over the edge?