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Male bartender in white shirt and leather apron stirring alcohol cocktail with a special bar spoon
When the seismic reverberations of the COVID-19 pandemic began to spread through communities far and wide in the spring, the hospitality industry was one of the hardest hit. With restaurants forced to quickly shutter their doors, a sizable number of those employed were suddenly without work. For the workers, it’s not just about the money. Their stories cover matters of personal safety, the health of loved ones at home, a genuine fear of the unknown, as well as the unforeseen dramas of human nature over something that many feel should be as simple as wearing a mask.
In an industry known for low wages and benefits, not to mention tough working conditions, the pandemic came as a real blow to workers, many of whom were working two jobs and living paycheck-to-paycheck to make ends meet. While some restaurants quickly retooled for takeout business, others didn’t out of safety concerns or an inability to make a profit with the new business model, forcing them to stay closed or even go out of business.
As COVID was initially hitting the news, some hospitality workers didn’t pay much attention. When cases started climbing, however, they all described a foreboding shift in what was happening on the job. Angel Sevilla, a server at the Capital Grille in Downtown Milwaukee, “sensed something was coming” when the regular guest count dropped by half. Rebecca Rosenbaum, a bartender at Story Hill BKC on Milwaukee’s West Side, said she too could sense “anxiety in the air,” wondering at the time whether it was even safe for the restaurant to be open. Saher Mohammed, employed as a cook at a popular Downtown restaurant, initially hoped the shutdown wouldn’t happen, but he too was aware that something was going on because of the decline in business. Once the city announced the forced shutdown of restaurants’ dine-in service, Kelly Miller, a server at La Merenda in Walker’s Point, stated that “it was surreal… I remember watching guests hugging each other” as they left the restaurant that evening.
Indefinite Lay-offs?
Workers received phone calls or emails from their employers and were told to anticipate being laid off indefinitely and to apply for unemployment benefits. Some, like Miller, applied quickly and were able to get benefits. Sevilla was directed to come to the unemployment office after starting his online application but went weeks without any income. Mohammed still hasn’t received his unemployment because of the backlog of cases.
Eduardo (not his real name), a sous-chef at a top-rated local restaurant, couldn’t collect unemployment because he is an undocumented worker. With a wife and three children, he was without an income for three months. Fortunately, however, he had some savings to rely on. His fate was similar to that of other undocumented friends he knew who worked in restaurants, construction, and landscaping; some started catering out of their homes to make ends meet. His predicament is one of the truths of an industry whose success depends on workers willing to toil for low pay and employers who look the other way when it comes to employment eligibility yet are grateful to have dedicated employees. He’s worked 12-14-hour days at two jobs for over 10 years since settling in this country.
Like Eduardo, hospitality workers are often juggling family, school and other obligations. Miller is a nursing student at Milwaukee Area Technical College (MATC) and has a young child. Her husband, an independent contractor, was able to care for their son while she was doing her online classes, which she estimated took about eight hours a day. Mohammed and Sevilla are students at MATC in the Culinary Arts program, and because the college had to shift to online format, some practical classes were delayed. While classes have resumed for the fall, graduation for many students will be hindered because of the pandemic.
Pivot to Curbside
As restaurants pivoted to takeout and curbside business, some workers were called back. Mohammed declined because he wanted undocumented workers who needed the pay to be given a chance to work. Sevilla took a gig at Odd Duck in Bay View, and Miller went back to La Merenda, both choosing food-to-go models because the dining rooms weren’t open for service.
Once restaurants and bars were able to welcome back on-premise customers, Mohammed went back to his previous cooking job. It was busier than he thought it would be, and because the restaurant was understaffed, he felt it was difficult to maintain the standards of cleanliness needed because of the coronavirus. The hectic pace and stuffy kitchen made it hard for the crew to keep their masks fully in place or to maintain social distancing. He decided the risks at the time weren’t worth it and quit.
When Miller went back to serving at La Merenda, she was anxious about the possible risks at work. Because of her future career plans in healthcare, however, she decided she needed to embrace the protocols that were in place, face her fears, and not let those fears keep her from her job. With masking precautions in effect, she’s been keenly aware of the challenges not only of keeping safe but also of being able to interact with her customers and coworkers. So, while her mask has become “another piece of clothing you put on like your socks,” she says, “I probably went through a grieving period” over how “hard [it is] to make connections with people now.”
New Precautions in Place
Sevilla is back at the Capital Grille, where new safety precautions are in place. “We are more mindful of cleanliness than before. You think you’re doing everything you can, but you don’t realize this whole other scary level it can be taken to,” he says. “But you get used to it.”
Rosenbaum returned to work when Story Hill BKC reopened for seating and said it felt like she was starting a new job because of all of the changes. The seating is spread out with dividers between tables, and customers are now required to wear face masks when they’re not actually eating or drinking. Rosenbaum says she may be in contact with as many as 50 customers a day and recognizes the need to read each customer to gauge their comfort level with her.
In May, Eduardo returned to work for one of his previous employers who had reopened for full service. He felt fortunate to be working because he needed to send money back to family who are out of work in Mexico. He doesn’t worry about getting COVID-19, he says, but he’s worried for his children and family if he loses his job again.
In Harm’s Way?
The nature of the hospitality industry is highly social, and predicting its immediate future is a difficult if not impossible task. Typically, restaurateurs, workers and customers engage in a shared experience, one that currently isn’t possible. That shared experience relies on “regular” customers, but also people who go out less often, who go out to celebrate a special occasion, such as a birthday or anniversary. These customers may not be back in force until a vaccine is available, and so getting back to “normal” may be a difficult goal to reach on that basis alone. As Angel Sevilla says, “It’s hard to tell when people will feel [they’re not putting themselves] in harm’s way to go out to dinner.”
Whatever the number of customers, the shared experience in restaurants and pubs also depends on a level of familiarity and good will between staff and customers. The absence of facial and auditory cues that masks obscure or distort, to say nothing of the physical discomfort created by wearing one—all factor into the comfort level that eating and drinking establishments work so hard to create. Kelly Miller says that because the customer base at La Merenda is like family, her job has “never felt like work to me.” Now, however, that relationship has “been affected hugely.”
Alongside the strain of keeping everyone healthy in our restaurants is the very fact of the mask itself, with all the emotional, cultural, and political significance that is bred by the very presence or absence of it on our faces. Saher Mohammed hopes that people will come to appreciate the interpersonal relations we share with one another once we get beyond the pandemic—and, we can add, out from behind our masks.
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