Was it Dizzee Rascal or Stormzy who sang the line: “You’re getting way too big for your boots?” Dizzie or Stormzy? I think it was Stormzy. Anyway, either way, that line perfectly describes a bully – a person who is way too big for their boots. Cue a collective sharp intake of breath as the bullies in our sector realise this Friday Opinion is about them.

 

I abhor bullying. I witnessed disgusting bullying when I was at school. Really disgusting, physically and mentally torturous bullying. We, the non-bullied pupils, all knew it was happening, but to step forward and say something was to step into the line of fire, where the non-bullied could have very quickly become the bullied. The teachers, many bullies themselves, were seemingly oblivious.

 

Our sector doesn’t have the greatest track record when it comes to bullying. Think of the scenario of a new area manager whose approach to a new patch was a metaphorical “good public flogging” to keep his managers in tow. Or the juddering knife that was thrown into the chopping board at the beginning of Kitchen Nightmares, like some sort of warning sign, “bellowing, bullying chefs – beware all ye who enter here”. Does that type of behaviour still happen in our kitchens now? The very fact that the Burnt Chef Project exists strongly suggests it does.

 

I know the difference between an authoritarian leadership style and bullying. I do not believe strict direction, top-down decision-making, or adherence to rules is bullying, as long as it is conducted respectfully. Bullying, on the other hand, is the misuse of power. It can be physical, verbal, emotional or subtle, but if it harms, intimidates or humiliates another person, it is bullying.

 

Remember when the leader of the free world and his sidekick picked on Zelenskyy? Pathetic, wasn’t it? But does that type of behaviour happen in hospitality? You can bet your very last greenback dollar it does. In one company I know, the role taken by Zelenskyy is played by board members on a kind of rotational basis, depending on who the boss selects to be the bullied and the non-bullied at any particular board meeting. 

 

I still grimace when I think back to when I witnessed a boss dispatch a board member from a board meeting, mid-meeting, humiliating him in front of his peers, making him leave like a little dog with his tail between his legs. It was truly awful leadership. 

 

How about the hospitality boss who pushed one of his reports into a fountain on an away-day. It was hilarious. Well, I say hilarious, everyone laughed hysterically, but actually, it wasn’t hilarious. The laughter was the non-bullied feeling that if they didn’t laugh, they would quickly have become the bullied. It was non-verbal physical bullying dressed up as larking around and having a laugh. But it wasn’t. It was clumsy, hapless, humiliating, intimidating boss-bullying that also sent out a clear message: bullying in their organisation is okay.

 

Bullying can come in many other guises in our industry. Take the regular customer who uses sarcasm or snide, belittling comments to bar staff, made worse when tolerated by the boss who adopts a “they’re only joshing with you, and anyway, they’re a good spender” attitude. Or a large company writing a round-robin letter to all its suppliers, mid-way through a signed contractual agreement, adding a non-negotiable 2.5% discount to every invoice.

 

A bully often gets away with it once, then again, and then gets a real taste for it, and eventually, it can become part of their identity. Why do they do it? To feel powerful? To hide fear? To hide weakness? To reinforce their status? Or maybe just because they can. Whatever the reason, they are in an environment that lets it happen, dressing it up as banter, tradition or strong leadership. And when someone is allowed to get far too big for their boots, bullying behaviour becomes part of company culture. And poor culture is what holds a company back.

 

I have always been on high alert to bullying, and during my career in hospitality, I witnessed a lot and was on the receiving end of a lot. But when you’re in the mêlée of it all, with a mortgage and the kids at home, and when the cash reserve is more of a cash puddle, it is difficult to speak out. Conversely, when you’re mortgage-free, the kids have flown the nest, the pension is topped-up and your financial advisor says the best way to avoid inheritance tax is to spend your money, it is so much easier to speak out about the bullying in our sector, just like I am doing now and will continue doing.

 

If you are being bullied, at any level in our sector, contact me and I will help (that’s no-charge help). And that’s a wrap for this Friday Opinion, except to say, I hope it wasn’t too difficult a read for the bullies in our sector. And, oh yes, I’ve just looked it up – “You’re getting way too big for your boots” – Stormzy, not Dizzee. 

Much of the hospitality industry has followed that of the retail sector in being wholly seduced by a digital-first approach. The objective has been to strip-out friction by getting people in and out the door as fast as possible and reducing employee costs through technology and automation.

 

Kiosks, QR codes, self-checkouts, online ordering and delivery, along with a growing number of just-walk-out type models, have contributed to what has arguably been a dehumanising strategy across these consumer-facing sectors. Face-to-face contact has increasingly been eliminated.

 

This has undoubtedly contributed to some serious health issues – globally. A report in the US by its former surgeon general found the average American had lost 24 hours of in-person connection per month in the last two decades. Young adults are hardest hit by this, with social interaction between 15 to 24-year-olds having dropped a shocking 70% over this 20-year period. The UK is no doubt in an equally dispiriting state.

 

Thankfully, we have maybe reached the tipping point of this digital-first approach. At the sharp end of this is Starbucks. It originally espoused the concept of the “third place” – somewhere to spend time outside the home and office – but then went gung-ho on digital. Starbucks pushed customers into ordering ahead via its app and focusing on the to-go visitors. It led the way in prioritising digital orders and focusing on store models with no seating, or very little at least.

 

But no more it seems. Under new chief executive Brian Niccol, it has paused the roll-out of its high-tech Siren Craft barista system and is instead hiring actual human baristas and introducing a people-based Green Apron Service model. “We over-rotated on the idea of equipment and that replacing the humanity of service,” he now admits. 

 

Niccol recognises hospitality is losing the human touch and that this has ultimately impacted trading at his firm: “Despite everybody saying they’re more connected than ever, everything I read is people feel lonelier than ever. I think part of the problem is there aren’t enough third places anymore.”

 

Research suggests customers are responsive to a re-humanising of hospitality and want something more physical nowadays. Since March 2022, there has been a decline in people taking food and drink away from coffee shop brands to another location, according to Savanta, which found it dropped from 49% to 38% over this period.  

 

Starbucks is not alone in recognised the mistake of dehumanising the in-store experience, as Itsu founder Julian Metcalfe has admitted to embracing technology too quickly and has been adding manned tills back into Itsu’s 80-plus outlets. The policy had been to have only one such touchpoint alongside the self-service kiosks, but he is doubling up on the human-powered tills. This mirrors the strategy of some supermarkets like Morrison’s and Booths, which have scaled back or booted out self-service in favour of old-school payment points.

 

In the US, the technology-forward salad brand Sweetgreen has been reassessing how it implements its automated Infinite Kitchen model in its outlets, having acknowledged that the focus on technology has adversely impacted the experience in its dining rooms. It is investigating the layout and flows of its restaurants in order to boost the appeal to dine-in visitors. 

 

Here in the UK, Pret A Manger is undoubtedly tapping into what I reckon is a growing reappraisal of hospitality with the launch of its new shop format. It will include made-to-order food as well as greater dine-in space, where customers can linger longer and their children can enjoy the Little Stars Café play areas. The objective is to make Pret a comfortable destination for customers who are in less of a rush and want to spend more time with friends and family.

 

Such moves indicate a turning point, with digital no longer continuing to dictate many strategies to the detriment of the personal element. We are returning to hospitality yet again being about person-to-person interactions rather than focused sausage machine-like on processing customers as fast as possible. 

 

By feeding the growing appetite among consumers to have a more humanised interaction, hospitality brands can contribute greatly to helping address some of the loss of community and rise in loneliness that has undoubtedly been a by-product of the industry’s many digital-first strategies.

Funny old game, hospitality. You’re selling food, drink, a little entertainment perhaps; the rent on a certain environment you’ve created and, peculiarly, the relationship between your staff and your guests.

 

Top operators understand how important that relationship is. Over the years, I’ve been told countless times by pub businesses that “people are our greatest resource”. 

 

For the most part, the workers themselves were silent on the matter, speaking their part as loyal, engaged staff at times. But what were they really thinking? How did they feel? What were they talking about when they exited the stage of the bar?

 

This week, my copy of “The Usual” arrived. It’s published by the Burum Collective, the Cardiff-based brainchild of two hospitality workers, Helen Anne Smith and Rachel Hendry. During that unscheduled pause in 2020, they launched a platform for the food and drink community “where people can talk openly, creatively and, more importantly, as themselves”.

 

“The Usual” is their second print publication following “Service, Please” in 2023, and there is more writing by hospitality workers on their website alongside an education hub, where members of the collective share knowledge of the drinks they are serving. 

 

This shows that Burum is not just an opportunity to sound off. These people love what they do, and as professionals, they are serious about getting better at it. And that involves expressing their frustrations and naming all the stuff that makes it harder for them to do their job. You might say they should take these things up with their employer, but clearly that’s not enough.

 

“The Usual” is a “zine”. The term was first coined (Wikipedia tells me) in the 1940s, when science fiction fans sought a way of coming together and sharing their enthusiasm for the genre. But the idea of alternative publishing that gives a voice to those who are going unheard in the usual channels goes back a lot further than that.

 

Don’t we have the internet for that now? Well, we do, but there’s something special about getting printed paper into people’s hands. It makes it more personal. And Burum’s zines are designed to be left behind bars for staff to discover and browse on a break.

 

What they’ll find in “The Usual” is, ironically, unusual. People like them talking about the nitty-gritty of working on the hospitality front-line – what makes them happy, what makes them sad, uncomfortable and anxious, the practical problems, those bloody customers, and why they still love it.

 

I like the piece titled “Modifications” by Samer Khudairi, which points out that when a diner asks for some alteration to the dish as described on the menu, it isn’t always as simple to do as the server makes out. Behind that “yes of course, no problem”, someone may be screaming.

 

Smith writes about what happens after an evening shift when staff want their own night out and the potentially unhealthy social life that results.

 

And Hendry, who has a rare lightness of touch about her writing and has (in Pellicle magazine) previously tackled subjects others dare not – such as blue roll and scampi fries – raises the awkward matter of boundaries and the blokes who think you fancy them just because you’ve smiled at them nicely when they order their pint. 

 

There are the voices of marginalised customers here, too; the people who, because they appear different – not the usual – don’t always get the welcome and the service hospitality should pride itself on. I’ve written before about an unspoken solidarity between bar staff and their customers, and here they are in an honest conversation.

 

Burum is also a platform on which hospitality workers can be creative. The zine and online articles can be quite writerly, and there are illustrations too, mostly by Smith. It reflects something a lot of pub operators have discovered – that the people they pay to pull pints, cook and wait tables possess other talents. 

 

So, when you find an especially artistic chalkboard menu or, more likely these days, an exciting TikTok video, it’s often the work of a member of staff.

 

The Burum Collective may be, in the wider scheme of things, a modest initiative, but it’s a symptom of something that’s going on under the surface of every bar, every pub, every restaurant and hotel. 

 

Your “greatest resource” is not a robot performing mechanical tasks (and I include the learned soft skills of hospitality in that). Human beings may be relatively fragile but they’re also extraordinary; every one of them. They all deserve a voice; and someone to hear them.