Earlier this month, Labour Minister David Piccini announced new proposed legislation to increase fines for violations of the Employment Standards Act, such as failing to pay wages. Given how hard it is to collect money owed from an Ontario employer who refuses to pay, it feels like a good time to expand on a recent conversation I had with a young culinary student.I had just given a talk to culinary students at Red River College in Winnipeg titled “Your Writes vs. Your Rights.” I had intended to speak both about food writing and labour rights, but focused primarily on the latter. One student dominated the Q&A portion, asking about entrepreneurship in hospitality. She’s on her second career and wanted to know whether paying a living wage while turning a profit is possible. (It is. But it’s a lot more work, requiring more creativity and a greater investment in workers.)
Another student approached me as I was leaving, perhaps too shy to speak up in front of three dozen classmates. Or maybe he came late: as he told me, he works more than 60 hours a week on top of full-time schooling.
He asked me what I thought about cooks “killing themselves,” as in, overworking themselves to the severe detriment of their mental and physical health. The Japanese term karoshi, which roughly translates as “overwork death,” came to mind: a state of physical and mental exhaustion that can pave the way for fatal heart attacks and strokes at a young age.
I inquired about his financial situation. It was conceivable that he is already a parent with the costs of dependents and rent. But, no, he still lives with his family. Then I asked whether he was paid for all his hours. He said that sometimes when there’s a lot to get done, he’ll come in an hour or so early.
He’s 19 years old and at the start of his career. When we’re starting out, we don’t have a frame of reference for what is and isn’t unacceptable in our profession. So it’s the perfect time to learn. When an employer expects you to do more work than can be done in the time for which they are paying you, that is called wage theft. Even if they pretend not to know that you are coming in early and working for free — even if they have never explicitly asked you to do so. It is wage theft.
I’ve seen this pattern plenty in high-end restaurants, which usually serve a style of cuisine (requiring many hands, using tweezers) that can’t be made if the business is paying employees for all their hours. But young cooks who aspire to be great will work in this stratum of restaurant because if one wants to be the best, one must learn from the best. Those employers know this and depend on the passion of young, inexperienced cooks.
But when I asked for the name of the employer, he named a pub.
When I realized that he was exhausting himself, being exploited, showing up for school too tired to focus, and not even doing it at a restaurant where he was learning a lot or advancing his career, my advice became simple: Quit that job. You owe them nothing.
For three years running, hospitality labour has been a seller’s market. There aren’t enough skilled applicants to fill all the open positions. For a while, employers became competitive about increasing wages to attract workers. As every other restaurant cost has gone up — beyond the rate of menu price increases — pay has flattened. Toronto kitchen wages tend to sit between $18 and $20, with competitive restaurants offering a better share of tips (ideally, enough to bring earnings up to the $25.05 it takes to live in Toronto) or benefits, which sometimes include dental. Ask about this. You deserve it. Employers may not have the cash to compete on base wages. But they need you more than you need them, and you do not have to settle for minimum wage (currently at $16.55 in Ontario and set to rise to $17.20 in October).
Meanwhile, expectations for performance and punctuality have gone down (as has the quality of food and service, some would argue). When I was in cooking school, we were told we’d be fired for showing up late. These days, though restaurants have finally replenished staff to 2019 volumes, the turnover rate is still 74 per cent, and employers are desperate. In the New York Times, Hajime Soto, chef and owner of Sozai in Michigan, summarized the current labour market like this: “Are they breathing? That’s all it takes for me to hire someone right now.”
So if you are an aspiring chef who responds to emails and texts, shows up on time (or at all), pays attention, and works hard, you can take your pick of employers. Between a strong work ethic and this unusual moment in restaurant-employee relations, you have the opportunity to be selective. Instead of answering job postings, find the restaurant you want to work for. Maybe it’s because of the food, the learning opportunity, or how it treats its staff. Knock on the door. When you go for an interview, fearlessly ask everything you can about what to expect in the work environment: What are the hours? How are breaks scheduled? How are tips divided? What benefits do you offer? How are raises and promotions earned? What kind of career growth can I expect?
Your workplace should do as much for you as you do for it. Any restaurant that can’t answer these questions is not a place that will benefit you in the long run. Quit. And never again work for a restaurant that makes you question whether your efforts could be driving you to an early grave.
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