Part of the Job

Anonymous Pastry Chef

As a woman who’s spent more than sixteen years in the hospitality industry, I consider myself fortunate.

I’ve worked with incredible mentors—people who challenged me, supported me, and created environments where I felt respected. Before my current job, I worked for an all-female company where feeling safe at work was simply the norm.

Because of those experiences, I know what a healthy workplace looks like.

I also know how quickly that feeling can disappear.

When our restaurant reopened after the pandemic, every department was trying to rebuild at once. Like many restaurants, staffing was one of our biggest challenges. To help fill positions quickly, the company hired a third-party contractor for stewarding and dishwashing.

Our pastry department was made up entirely of women. It felt like home, but reopening brought constant turnover, new faces, and a great deal of uncertainty.

After a few weeks, several of us began noticing the same thing.

Whenever we walked through the dish area, the male dishwashers would stop what they were doing and stare.

Not glance.

Stare.

They would pause conversations, stop working, and simply watch us as we walked by. The entrance to our pastry room was directly visible from their work area, and a large window looked into our department. We often found ourselves looking up to see several pairs of eyes fixed on us.

Eventually, we began dreading the simple act of walking into the dish area to retrieve the equipment we needed to do our jobs.

As the evening pastry supervisor, I felt responsible for speaking up.

One night, I approached the manager on duty and explained that several of us felt uncomfortable.

His response caught me completely off guard.

He suggested we wait before addressing the issue because he didn’t want to upset the dishwashers and risk losing them.

I remember feeling sick.

Our discomfort seemed less important than protecting staffing levels.

For several days, I couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation. Eventually, after talking with my coworkers, I brought the situation to a female manager.

Her response was immediate.

She listened.

She believed us.

She contacted Human Resources right away so the issue could be addressed.

I don’t remember exactly how it was resolved. Many of the contracted employees came and went during that period, and I honestly don’t remember whether those particular individuals were reassigned or simply left.

What I do remember is how different it felt to have someone take our concerns seriously.

Thankfully, I haven’t experienced anything similar since then.

Looking back, what stays with me isn’t just the staring.

It’s how easy it would have been to dismiss it.

Women in hospitality are often taught—directly or indirectly—that some level of harassment is simply part of the job. Sometimes it’s physical. Sometimes it’s verbal. Sometimes it’s subtle enough that you question whether you’re overreacting.

Too often, we stay quiet because speaking up feels riskier than enduring it.

I believe our industry is improving, but improvement doesn’t happen by accident.

It happens when leaders choose to listen.

It happens when managers are trained to recognize concerns before they become larger problems.

It happens when everyone—regardless of gender or position—is held to the same standard of professionalism and respect.

Most importantly, it happens when people feel safe enough to say, “Something isn’t right.”

I’m still grateful for the manager who believed us without hesitation.

One person willing to listen changed how we experienced our workplace.

My hope is that more women in hospitality never have to wonder whether their concerns will be taken seriously.

Because feeling safe at work shouldn’t be something we’re lucky enough to experience.

It should be the standard.