I grew up sitting at restaurant tables, thinking I understood what was happening on the other side. It looked easy.
Greet, take orders, run food and collect payment—simple.
At 16, I decided to see for myself and work in the service industry.
I was wrong.
I landed a job as a host at a small family-run restaurant in my hometown.
Getting hired was exciting, but the idea of earning tips made it even better.
Like any first job, it was overwhelming. But stepping into the industry was something else entirely. It has shaped me in ways I didn’t expect, both good and bad.
Now, at 20 and still working part-time in the restaurant industry, I’ve had time to reflect. I’ve realized the job is not nearly as glamorous as it once seemed.
Kitchen culture
Restaurants bring together a diverse mix of people—both customers and staff. I’ve worked with people from all walks of life, from students just like me to older adults seeking extra income.
I’ve met some of my closest friends working in this industry, and I’ll forever be grateful for that. I have also worked with people I never would have met otherwise.
From former inmates to people struggling with addiction, the industry has a way with introductions.
What I didn’t expect, entering this industry at 16, was just how different that environment would be.
Coming from a sheltered background and the Catholic school system, it was a culture shock.
Over time, I’ve realized many of my assumptions about people were unfair.
Still, I’ve learned to stay cautious by keeping relationships professional.
The snap
The truth is, people snap at you—literally.
At first, I thought I was the problem because I wasn’t fast enough. But I’ve learned I’m good at my job. Some customers are simply entitled.
In a Toronto Life article, restaurant owners share that they are being pushed by customers more than ever.
They constantly have to deal with outrageous behaviour and complaints from patrons.
In a post by The Guardian, these customers have been grouped into nine identifiable categories—from “The flirt” to “the influencer,” and from “the arrogant and ill-mannered” to “the work-from-homers.” I have dealt with every one of these groups and dread it every time I have a table like this.
I could add conflict resolution to my resume, and I mean it.
Over my four years in the industry, I have noticed a shift in customer behaviour and in how servers are treated.
The pandemic’s end played a large role in this change.
The customer base consisted of many dysregulated patrons who had forgotten how to act respectfully in public spaces.
I’ve been snapped at, cursed at, yelled at and ignored. In the end, I’m doing my best, and I cannot please everyone.
I’m still learning to accept that. It is okay if a refill takes an extra minute. It is okay if I forget to grab a side of ketchup. It is okay that I can’t be everywhere at once.
Often, customers lack basic empathy when speaking to restaurant staff. Servers want to create a positive experience, but at what cost?
The other side
Growing up, I idolized the polished, effortless servers at my favourite restaurants.
I wanted to be just like them. Now I understand that the image is carefully constructed; it’s a facade that hides the reality of the job.
People think that the service industry is easy to work in.
All the job entails is taking orders and refilling drinks.
No, that’s not it. It’s a physically and emotionally demanding position. I am managing a carefully constructed rotation of tables, communicating with every staff member, managing flow and helping everyone else with their duties when they are stressed out.
I feel like I am firing at 100 per cent all the time.
I have no time to rest, and no matter what happens during my day, I need to shrug it off and keep pushing because I need to make sure all my customers have a wonderful dining experience with me.
Before working in the restaurant industry, consider this: while this job builds valuable skills like communication, customer service, and prioritization, it can also take a toll beyond the restaurant’s walls.
I’ve gone home crying—frustrated and confused—over a part-time job that isn’t my career.
At the end of the day, are the tips worth what the job takes out of me?