Month: May 2023

Recently I went to meet a friend for lunch at a local restaurant. We made plans to get there early to beat the noon hour crunch. Upon arriving I scan the dining area and am pleased to see the place is still mostly empty, only two or three tables are occupied. My friend and I approach the hostess desk. I hold up two fingers and say “booth for two please”. The hostess glances down at her computer screen. There is a short pause. Then she says “there will be about a twenty minute wait, is that okay?”

I’m puzzled. A twenty minute wait? There’s hardly anybody here. Irritated, I try my best to stay polite as I inquire as to why the delay. The hostess flashes a look of frustration and empathy as she explains they don’t have enough servers to seat everyone right away. She says she’s sorry. It almost looks like she’s bracing herself for a complaint, maybe even a scene. I sense she’s been taking a lot of flack from impatient customers.

We tell her it’s all good and we take a seat in the lobby. As we wait, we talk about this universal shortage of restaurant workers. Everywhere you go it’s the same thing. Help Wanted signs out front. Line chefs, managers, servers, all positions, all shifts. What happened to all the folks who used to need these jobs, we wonder. What are they doing to make a living? Are they just sitting around collecting unemployment?

For some reason, the topic stuck with me after lunch, and I decided to do some research. What I found gave me an updated perspective on my dining out experiences. Of course, the crisis began with the Covid pandemic of 2020. Everybody stopped eating out. Restaurants either had to close or let nearly all of their workers go. Apparently this was not often done with a lot of concern for their welfare. I read many quotes from former food service workers who said they were “put out like yesterday’s trash”.

I found many accounts of what restaurant work was like. Long hours on your feet, nights, weekends, holidays, low pay, and high pressure. The jobs are also widely viewed as dead end. No ladder to climb. And then there is dealing with the customers. Most diners are polite, but one survey said over sixty percent of servers reported dealing with abusive patrons. More than fifteen percent said they endured sexual abuse.

It made me recall a time when Sharon and I were seated at a local establishment, and as we sat down we heard a commotion a few tables down. A man was clearly upset about something and was loudly giving his server an earful. We couldn’t make out exactly what the problem was. He and his party then stomped out the door carrying takeout boxes. We happened to be sitting at a spot where I could partially see into the kitchen. The server was back there in tears, explaining the incident to a woman who looked like she could be a manager.

From what I gather, when the Covid restrictions were lifted and people began eating out again, a large chunk of the workers simply decided not to return to the restaurant business because of the lifestyle. It is true that many were able to compensate for the loss of income by receiving the increased government unemployment funds. But the idea that they used the money to sit around and watch TV is a myth. In reality, many used the funds to train themselves for other lines of work which they deemed higher paying with more promotional potential. They transitioned to low level health care positions, some went into education, some into information technology.

The pandemic also created the work-from-home explosion. There is a whole new catalog of employment that can be done on a laptop on your kitchen table. “Influencers” are making good money simply acquiring products or services and blogging about them.

None of this bodes well for restaurant owners in their quest to restaff to pre-pandemic levels. So, I thought, what does this mean for the future? What is to become of the local eating place? Based on projections from industry observers, it seems likely the glut of people seeking food service jobs is never coming back. There will be some, of course, but the surplus of applications that managers used to find in their desk drawers is probably gone forever. Restaurants will look for ways to maintain quality of service with less people.

Many may go to automated systems that allow you to order from a screen on your table. The ability to pay your bill on a kiosk is already widespread. One rapidly expanding trend is to bring the restaurant to you instead of the other way around. Home delivery is no longer just for pizzas and subs. You can enjoy almost everybody’s cuisine driven to your front door either by an independent service or the restaurant itself.

After reading extensive material about the situation, my appreciation of those who do come to my table and serve me has certainly increased. The other day I told my server “you did a great job. I really appreciate your efforts”. At first she looked at me like I was an alien from another solar system. She clearly was not used to hearing something like that. Then she quickly smiled and said thank-you.

I don’t think people will ever stop eating out. It’s just therapy to get out of the house and enjoy a good meal now and then. A great way to socialize with friends and family. But I suspect you will see fewer and fewer humans working there, and more and more machines. So be kind to the humans that remain. Maybe they’ll stick around for a while.

It seems we are living through difficult times. We have seen a pandemic, political division, rampant gun violence, and a general decline of moral values. But I suspect the things we are dealing with pale in comparison to what the generation of the early 20th century went through.

This was brought home to me in a very personal way after the passing of my mother in the summer of 2020. Among her personal effects was a tattered notebook. Apparently she took a writing course during her junior year of high school, and one of her assignments was to keep a journal of her entire school year. The pages cover the 1932-’33 school year, during which Mom would have turned sixteen years old.

At the time America was deep in the throes of the Great Depression which caused massive unemployment and poverty. It was also during Prohibition which forbid the sale of alcohol, resulting in a heavy increase in organized crime activity, bootlegging, and a sharp drop in tax revenue, which made the economy even worse.

Mom’s journal is largely an account of how her family of seven made it through a brutal midwestern winter with little income and limited basic necessities. The first entry is dated September 10, 1932. She describes herself as “shy” and adds:

“I think the journal will be great fun when I look at it in years to come”.

I’m sure she never dreamed that, 91 years later, her septuagenarian son would be reading her words with wonder and admiration.

It is clear the poverty of the era affected her school life:

“October 3, 1932 — This afternoon our class had a meeting at which we discussed the getting of class rings. Mr. McLane suggested that we postpone it until we are seniors on account of the scarcity of money.”

These were desperate times. Some folks, with nothing to lose, and aided by the underworld, turned to crime, even in Mom’s small town of West Bend:

“November 2, 1932 — The First National Bank of West Bend was robbed yesterday morning by three bandits armed with machine guns and pistols. They escaped with about $15,000….no one has been identified as yet.”

Republicans were in office at this time, but with all of the upheaval, evidently voters were ready for a change:

“November 9, 1932 — Well, the elections are over….the Democratic party made a clean sweep….President Hoover carried only six states. Governor Roosevelt’s election is considered the greatest landslide ever made by a political party in American history.”

Money for food was not plentiful. Fortunately, Mom’s father was an avid hunter and fisherman:

“December 5, 1932 — Dad and Walter (Mom’s younger brother) came home late Saturday night with forty-four rabbits. We ought to have a few meals out of that.”

“January 5, 1933 — Before classes this afternoon Mr. McLane announced that ex-President Coolidge was found dead in bed this morning. This was indeed a surprise to everyone.”

“February 18, 1933 — There has been quite a bit of excitement lately in connection with a milk strike…several dairies refused to comply with it…In today’s paper there was an account of a large milk truck being stopped and all the milk poured into the snow….Also on Tuesday an attempt was made to assassinate Franklin D. Roosevelt in Florida by an Italian. This caused a great deal of excitement as he is not yet in office. He escaped injury.”

“March 3, 1933 — This morning all the banks in the state closed up for an indefinite number of days. This was quite a blow to many people as they had received their checks due the beginning of the month and had not had them cashed.”

On March 21, 1933 President Roosevelt signed into law the Cullen-Harrison Act which legalized the sale of beer and ended Prohibition. Mom’s family operated a lake resort which included a restaurant and bar. The legislation may well have saved their livelihood:

“April 8, 1933 — Many hailed the return of beer at midnight on Thursday with an all night celebration….Dad had a little party and was up until four o’clock in the morning”.

There didn’t appear to be any money for gym decorations for her junior prom so they made do with colored paper:

“April 22, 1933 — We are collecting branches and twisting pieces of pink paper on them to make them look like cherry blossoms, as the gym is to represent a Japanese cherry garden.”

Mom writes that she didn’t attend the prom. I wonder if she couldn’t afford a dress. The journal ends after an entry on May 25 describing how the family is working hard to get the resort ready for the tourist season, and praying for a good turnout.

These were not the only uncertain times Mom endured. Eight years after writing this account, she went through World War Two, wondering each day if her husband would return alive from the battlefields of Europe. By the grace of God, he did, else I would not be here.

Mom went on to live a long and mostly happy life of humility and service to others. She left this earth at the ripe old age of 103. She survived all of the hard times, and I expect we will too. By the way, in the margin of the final page of the journal, her teacher wrote down her grade. She got an A.

As a writer, and as a person, she is a hard act to follow.