The Unicorn

The Myth of Work Life Balance in the Restaurant Industry

Before the first ticket prints.

Before the rail fills up.

Before the fryer starts screaming and the grill flares up.

There’s family meal.

Someone throws together something quick for the staff. Nothing fancy. Whatever we have on hand. You grab a plate and shovel it down as fast as possible. Not because it tastes bad. Because service is about to start. Prep isn’t finished. Stations still need to be stocked. Someone forgot something on the prep list.

You eat it fast.

Real fast.

So fast you barely taste it.

We have a saying in the industry.

Eat it now.

Taste it later.

After thirty five years in kitchens, I’ve started to realize that saying applies to more than just family meal. It might actually describe our entire lives. Because for decades we’ve all been chasing something that feels just as mythical.

The unicorn.

Work life balance.

This mystical creature embodies what a lot of us want to find.

It’s not Old Nessy from the loch.

It’s not paparazzi chasing Bigfoot.

It’s not the elusive Irishman guarding his pot of gold.

No. It’s not the remains of Jimmy Hoffa either.

I am convinced mankind will figure out time travel before we find this creature. At least for those of us in the restaurant industry. Since the first restaurant opened its doors, we have been chasing this beast.

It goes by many names.

Lady Amalthea.

Twilight Sparkle.

Rarity.

Celestia.

In the restaurant industry we call it something else.

Work life balance.

I have spent more than thirty five years trying to find it. How exactly do you find a unicorn when you work days, nights, weekends, holidays… sometimes seven days a week? While researching for this article, I stumbled across something called Work Life Balance Tips for Hospitality Professionals. Within the first paragraph they had good news for all of us.

Strategies.

Time management.

Ways to reduce burnout and still enjoy your job while maintaining a life outside of work.

Well sign me the fuck up for this TED talk. Then I kept reading.

Set boundaries.

Avoid answering work related calls or texts on your day off.

Communicate your availability with your manager.

And my personal favorite.

Learn to say no.

Bless your heart. Then I saw this line. According to Harvard Business Review.

Now I have a serious question. Did the person who wrote this ever actually work in a restaurant? Not visit one. Not write about one. Work in one. Did they ever close on a Saturday night and then have to be back for brunch the next morning? Did they ever work a fourteen hour shift and still hear the ticket printer in their head when they tried to fall asleep? Did they ever stand on the line while the rail kept filling and you knew you were about five minutes away from getting buried alive in tickets? If the answer is yes, then I have a follow up question. How long did they last? Because learning to say no in this industry used to be the fastest way to make sure you were never scheduled again.

Then there’s the advice about prioritizing your health.

Stay hydrated.

Eat well.

Get enough rest.

Let’s talk about eating well. One of my favorite comments when someone finds out I’m a chef is this: “You must get to eat great food all the time.” If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant you’re probably laughing right now. But if you haven’t, let me explain something. Chefs and line cooks don’t eat during service. Not because there isn’t food. There’s plenty. We don’t eat because there’s too much going on. You’re focused on prep.

Getting your mise en place ready.

Stocking stations.

Finishing prep lists.

Cleaning equipment.

That’s just the physical stress.

Then comes the mental load. How deep in the weeds are we about to get? Am I about to get yelled at by chef? Did I drop that call? Which server is about to screw something up?

Then the home stress creeps in.

How much did I drink last night? Will my car start when this shift ends? Is my kid’s school going to call today?

So no.

We don’t eat.

Your stress level is so high there is no room for food.

Then there’s the advice about getting enough rest. This one makes me laugh and cry at the same time. The math sounds great on paper. “My shift ends at 10 PM. I should be asleep by 11:30. That gives me seven to eight hours.” Reality doesn’t work like that. You finish a fourteen hour shift and drag yourself home thinking you cannot wait to get into bed. Then you take a shower. And suddenly it happens. Not a second wind. More like the seventeenth. Then throw kids into the mix. Who gets them ready for school? What if that’s the only time you see them all day? As a father, my daughter may never fully understand the sacrifices I make for her.

And that’s okay.

That’s my job.

Then there are days off. Bless their heart. Most of the time it isn’t even a full twenty four hours. Usually it’s a Monday. You wake up. Get the kids ready. Pack lunches. Run errands.

Laundry.

Groceries.

Clean the house.

Pickups.

Drop offs.

Homework Core Math fuck off!

Dinner.

And somehow that was supposed to be recovery. So after thirty five years in this industry…

I still haven’t found that unicorn.

But something interesting happened along the way.

That saying we use in kitchens…Eat it now. Taste it later. It doesn’t just apply to family meal. It applies to how we live. Push through the shift. Deal with the chaos. Handle the pressure. Tell yourself you’ll process it later. Later when things slow down. Later when the season ends. Later when life gets easier. But later rarely comes in this industry.

Now all I really want is some sort of balance. I’ve surrounded myself in food my entire life. My addiction is food. My ADHD runs perfectly when I’m on expo or buried in prep.

There is nothing more satisfying than watching someone take a bite of tiramisu. That cloud like texture. Deep coffee notes. Parle G cookies soaked in Indian filter coffee melting before your eyes.

For me it’s not about ego.

It’s not about hearing someone say “your food.”

It’s about touching someone’s soul.

It’s about creating a memory that stays with them long after the plate is cleared.

That’s why I cook.

For thirty five years I thought the unicorn was work life balance. But maybe we’ve been looking at it the wrong way. Maybe the unicorn was never balance. Maybe the unicorn is the moment someone takes a bite of something you made and their whole world slows down for just a second. Maybe the unicorn is knowing that in an industry built on chaos, fire, pressure, and exhaustion…

you still chose to feed people anyway.

Because chefs understand something most people never will.

Eat it now.

Taste it later.