In the kitchen, rules are clear (at least they should be).
With people, they really aren't.
In the kitchen, there's always comfort in being structured:
-Checklists for prepping
-Checklists for cleaning
-The ticket times are either on par, or they're not.
-The hollandaise is either broken, or it's not.
When I'm cooking, cause and effect is pretty much blatant. I can correct mistakes quickly and see the benefits in real time. It's demanding, but it's straightforward.
Leading 40 people of all ages with differing personalities? NOT so simple. One conversation can affect someone's entire week. The same feedback that motivates one person can shut down another person. A schedule change can feel like a minor tweak to some and a major life disruption to someone else.
There's no instant-read thermometer for morale or a kitchen timer for burnout. No infrareds for whether someone feels respected or if they feel resentful. I wish I could say that walking into the restaurant automatically means I walk in with authority 24/7, but unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Newer customers come to the register and ask me to tell the owner, whoever he is, that he is doing a great job! Vendors look surprised when they first meet me. I'm not sure why... I'm always the peak of professionalism (sike). Maybe it's the pink bandana, maybe the Adidas Sambas with cocoa powder dusted on them from making ice cream, or maybe it's my white Tacoma? Maybe it's my Ninja slushy machine on my other desk that is always filled with orange Gatorade or Monster Pipeline Punch that helps us survive during the hot days? (I never claimed to be the peak the health - BUT energy drinks are quite mild compared to what plagues much of the industry.) Maybe it's my office decor? I guess it could be many reasons... On the other hand, I have many patrons and vendors alike that I enjoy carrying on with.
Cooking is always judged on results. Effort doesn't really matter if the food isn't good.
Leadership, as a woman, is usually judged by how comfortable others are seeing you in charge.
It's like a tight rope...
-If I raise my voice, I'm emotional.
-If I stay calm and don't soften the blow, I'm cold.
-If I'm empathetic, I'm too soft.
-If I set hard boundaries, I'm intimidating or even worse... I get to hear the current toxic thought of many younger generations. "You can easily be replaced at your job by tomorrow- bosses don't ACTUALLY care about their employees!" Which is horse patootie! And I will die on that hill.
There's only a little wiggle room to just be a leader without the extra label added to it.
When people see my team, they see "staff." When I'm doing the schedule, I see:
-The single mom who can't work doubles back-to-back.
-The line cook in college full time who didn't get to bed until 4 a.m. catching up on an essay.
-The server with anxiety who can only handle certain sections.
-The dishwasher who babysits every day and still comes in and rocks.
-This person knows the register, this person can help dishes at the end of the night... so on and so forth. All bases are covered.
However, as flexible and understanding as I WANT to be, it's hard to remind employees that I still have a business that always needs staffed fully, or we'll lose customers... and if we lose customers, when everyone comes back from their time off, they wouldn't have a job for them to return to! As much as I'd like to be a genie and grant ALL the wishes, I can only do so much, as I am a single mom myself to a high school athlete with an intense training schedule. I've missed more tournaments of hers over the past two years than I have in her entire life so employees can get off when they'd like, no matter how silly I sometimes think the reason for the request off is. It's just part of the "it is what it is as a business owner" type of thing. Honestly, posting the schedule gives me actual anxiety, more anxiety than the busiest day on the line. I'd rather work a Father's Day rush with the internet down, one hand tied behind my back, with a broaster on fire, and by myself with no help. (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration...) Because as soon as I push that "publish" button on my 7Shifts app, my phone blows up... "AMBERRRR I FORGOT..." "Can I please..." "Why..." "Can I talk to you quick??" And I just sigh, hide my phone for a few hours, and look at it later....
It's seriously nerve-wracking, but it's my job to balance:
Labor costs - fairness - legal requirements - individual needs and preferences - and still keep the doors open and guests happy
On the app, it's just a confusing grid. In reality, it's 40 people with 40 stories, and every decision made affects someone's rent, someone's childcare, and someone's stress level. And the work force is just very different than it was even 10 years ago.
Cooking for 600 people? There's some pressure.
Carrying responsibility for 40 livelihoods every day? That's a whole different kind of weight.
I pride myself in having unshakable nerves. I can handle A LOT of pressure and stress without many others noticing. When I'm cooking, I can lose myself in the work and just glide, putting my head down and focusing on the food. I get to **kind of** turn off my brain of everything else that doesn't involve putting food out of the expo window.
When leading, I don't have that option:
It's being present enough to notice when someone's unusually quiet or unusually off.
It's being calm enough to absorb a guest complaint without tearing into an already frazzled employee.
It's being strong enough to take criticism from customers who have their own ideas on things (most forget that after being in business for fifty years, there are reasons for everything! There has been a lot of trial and error in those 5 decades. haha)
It's taking criticism from online reviews, or even staff, and walk onto the floor with my chin up.
As a woman, there seems to be extra pressure to always keep composed, or I'm "too emotional" or "bit off more than I can chew."
Some of my hardest days the past few years is not being 30 tickets deep, but coming out of the office, deciding to let small stuff go, pick my battles, and not let everyone see the mentally and physically exhausted human I actually am.
Recipes give consistency and structure. You follow steps, and you get a predictable result. Boundaries with people are a lot messier.
I've had to learn:
-"No, you can't speak to me like that. No, you can't speak to my staff like that."
-"If you're late again, I'll need to remove you from the schedule."
-"I completely understand your situation, but I also have a responsibility to the team as a whole."
And since women are used to picking up emotional issues constantly, enforcing boundaries can sometimes seem harsh or even uncaring to others.
But with 40 people...
I can't be everyone's therapist. (God knows I probably need one as well.)
I can't fix everyone's life, although I wish I could.
I can still care deeply about each one of my employees and still say no.
That balance of teetering between compassion and accountability isn't something you prep in the morning and be good for the day. It's daily, all hours of the day (and night), draining, and it's an invisible struggle from the outside looking in. And I don't have another partner to share that burden with. I get to take the full weight of it, no escape, which is emotionally exhausting. I try not to bring a rough day home with me. My daughter doesn't need to hear my woes. Sometimes worrying about a toxic dynamic between two employees really does eat at me when all I want to say is "ya'll are adults - handle it like mature adults."
The energy it takes to be the "strong one," even on days when my personal life is falling apart, is where my faith comes the most into play.
The office becomes a war room of prayer.
After hearing about the taxing elements, I can imagine you might be wondering, "why do people do this?"
Because there are moments that make it worth it...
Watching a shy dishwasher come out of their shell.
Seeing a young woman work hard and realizing she can be a great leader.
Seeing staff turn 16, then graduate.
Watching people get married, have babies, have grandchildren.
Celebrating the small wins and being a confidant during the tough times.
Cooking feeds bellies temporarily.
Leadership, with intention, can change people for a lifetime.
And, to me, that's worth every hard conversation I've had and every invisible battle I fight behind the scenes.