HOSPITALITY WORKERS
NAVIGATE THE NEW NORMAL By John Reiss
W
hen 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,
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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.
