Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire: Front-Of-House's Pandemic Ordeal

With a menu for a muse and demands of diners to meet, the hospitality industry can be a sweet and sour experience for those who refer to it as their profession. Challenging at the best of times, the restaurant industry - especially for front of house staff - has encountered further difficulty after the implications of the pandemic and the subsequent instructions from the government. The simple tasks of seating guests, taking their order, delivering their food, and ensuring their overall enjoyment of the hospitality experience, has become a problematic procedure. 

My own experiences as a waitress proved testing even pre-pandemic. The restaurant I speak of in relation to my experience is part of a new growing chain in the South West of the UK, and can be considered, to put it bluntly, a bourgeois burger bar (I never progressed to a marketing role). It was the type of venue where the choice of whether to pick up your burger and risk mayonnaise on your nose, or politely engage your knife and fork in the endeavour of eating, never needed to be considered. It was the type of restaurant where the chips were not included in the price of the burger and was the type of restaurant which had its own unique language. Food no longer did the talking; a simple cheeseburger was called “Brie-utiful” and a children’s chicken burger was called “Chicken Little'' (I missed an opportunity in marketing, really). 

My role not only involved decoding the dishes on the menu but answering the questions of diners who wanted to sample my opinion on several matters and, despite only having tasted 10% of the menu myself (equivalent to the traditional service charge), I endeavoured to respond as best I could. 

“How spicy is…?”

“I recommend taking off the jalapeños” 

“What is green mayonnaise?”

“Just a lot of herbs, I recommend putting it on the side if you’re not sure”

“What would you choose between…?” 

“If you’re stuck, go with the second one”

My favourite questions always centred around wine. For what these (more often than not) women were asking was a wine recommendation from a student in an overdraft who had neither tasted nor could afford the wine on the menu (not to mention BURGERS, BEERS, AND BBQS was the slogan on my t-shirt). But like many people working in hospitality, I did my best to provide an answer:

“I would go with the South African Rosé, it is crisp and exotic, but still has subtle sweet undertones, pairing well with the Holy Cow burger” 

(Again, the marketing of this chain was considered a strength) 

Resolving complaints was a bitter necessity of the front-of-house experience. The dominant complaint I found myself apologising and excusing for in this restaurant primarily concerned the colouring of the meat: 

“My burger isn’t cooked enough, it’s raw” 

But managers and marketing teams of the restaurant chain insisted on a specific response from front-of-house staff to state if such a scenario were to arise:

“I’m so sorry to hear that, but we cook all our beef patties so they are blushed throughout” 

It was not only customers who sometimes presented a challenge to front of house staff, but the design of the very restaurant. Metal plates, introduced because their appearance evoked a ‘rustic yet refined’ quality, unsurprisingly retained their heat - meaning the plate would slowly melt your hand. iPads were introduced to take orders, a more effective solution when it came to the problem of accessing one till for the entirety of one floor of the restaurant. Nevertheless, the configuration was unreliable to the extent where every time I thought I clicked ‘next tray’ to indicate separate dishes, the button directly below it marked ‘make dirty’ (marketing getting stronger) was ‘pressed’ resulting in a table of fussy eaters’ food arriving with blue cheese sauce and extra jalapeños. 

Not only that, but there were also many aspects of my experience in front-of-house which I failed to expect of the job. I have bargained for bread before resorting to stealing it from the supply cupboard to sober up a woman on a terrible date. I have sung happy birthday to men turning 50 and kids turning 5 when all managers and fellow servers have strategically gone on a cigarette break. I have also performed questionable mental arithmetic at the end of a long shift for a table of fifteen who all wanted to pay separately (in this age of technological advancement, why are card machines not calculators yet?). 

Anecdotes and agonies aside, there were some benefits I experienced in my front of house role. I did taste different flavour combinations while I worked; combinations of cauliflower and chilli, halloumi and pineapple, pickled cucumber and pork, and they always exceeded the meal deal I sourced en-route home at midnight (rarely has your server had a meal to sustain them). As well as new flavours, I met friends amongst co-workers, met some memorable customers, and I always reached 10,000 steps on my steps counter a few hours into my shift. 

Ironically however, working in hospitality has become increasingly inhospitable for staff in recent pandemic times, purely due to increased responsibility and lack of support. The hospitality industry employs 10% of the UK workforce and the pandemic risks the reliability of employment in this industry, present and future. The government has introduced a series of initiatives to balance business and health, examples including the ‘eat out to help out’ scheme. But amongst the attempts to revive restaurants is the added requirement to ensure customers track and trace, are dining with their household or support bubble, follow one-way systems, and wear their mask when they are not seated. Our job is no longer simply facilitating the restaurant experiences of diners both with personality and plates of food, rather we have become the police of the pandemic as we try to distance our diners. The most recent regulation introduced by the government, the ‘substantial meal’ requirement, has meant front of house feels like training to be an AA councillor, actively monitoring the alcohol intake of every customer and passive aggressively suggesting they order meals to balance their binge. 

The language of the pandemic is as cryptic and confusing as the menu I worked alongside as a waitress. For front-of-house staff today, they are expected to be the translators and enforcers of these regulations whilst trying to make an honest living. Just like poetry, restaurants can interpret the language of the rule in different ways only leading to further confusion amongst customers and further frustration amongst front of house staff. 

Reported by EATER London, from the 897,000 decline in employment between February and November this year, 297,000 concerned jobs in the hospitality sector. The pandemic has only accelerated the future decline in hospitality jobs and opportunities instigated by the introduction of technological replacements to front-of-house. In a post-COVID landscape, new online ordering systems betray a growing dependency on apps to order from a menu.  While the government’s regulations have emphasised the importance of table-service, the hidden face of hospitality already marked by a mask will be exacerbated in a post-COVID world where front of house will be hidden by online ordering. While it could be considered more efficient and cost-effective, the role of the ‘host’ is diminished in hospitality. Front of house is far from being placed at the front anymore, they are behind screens, behind masks, and could find themselves behind in the queue at the job centre. 

One thing the pandemic has proven is people miss restaurants and miss the experience of hospitality. In a world where social distancing and virtual communication has become a new norm, front-of-house staff can provide a valuable form of interaction and conversation in person. It is vital that after the pandemic we prioritise the people of businesses and hospitality, ensure they have an income and an identity. 

One thing I have learnt from my dual experiences as both a customer and employee of the hospitality industry is that meeting over a meal is an invaluable form of communication, comfort, and culture. Restaurants are an environment of eating which is fundamental to our existing. Calls for a new Minister of Hospitality only draw our attention to the voices in the industry, and their need for representation in a post-COVID world. 

Restaurants and bars embrace the varied meaning of “essential” and, while the term has led to misunderstandings during the pandemic, what should be understood is the hospitality industry is an essential industry in service of our social beings and, more importantly, it is essential we do not let the front-of-house become relegated to the back of the room. 

Emily Coleman

Emily is a Masters student, studying English Literature at the University of Exeter, whilst working part-time in the hospitality sector. She loves writing about all things cuisine - examples of this can be found on her website @ www.emilyacoleman.com.