Amy showed me the screenshots on her phone. I froze for a few seconds and my blood went cold. They were pictures of a word document on the manager’s computer. It was a list of countless things I’d said or done during my time at the restaurant. For the millionth time in my career I realized I needed to be more careful with what I shared with colleagues. “There’s always a mole,” I muttered to myself in bitterness. But as usual there’d be more than one.
***
In authoritarian regimes the state employs legions of citizens to spy and inform on the general population. In the Soviet Union and East Germany up to 1 in 7 people served as informers for the regime. The reasons they did so varied based on the individual but a few stand out. Some were undoubtedly coerced while others actually believed in the evil ideologies of the state. But many just spied to get a few extra rations or perks, or settle scores and personal slights. And knowing the depths of human cruelty, some simply did it because they liked power and enjoyed messing with peoples’ lives.
After the Berlin Wall came down the records of the Stasi (East Germany’s secret police) were made public. Hundreds of thousands of East Germans went through the files and found something terrible: That their colleagues, friends, and even family members had been spying on them for years. Imagine your best friend selling you out so they could have a slightly better apartment, or a co-worker reporting you for sabotage so they could get a lame promotion. Or a spouse getting you blacklisted from university for exposing your contempt of communism. Or even a neighbour who ratted you out because they were jealous you got to travel abroad while they couldn’t.
Needless to say, such discoveries were shocking and traumatic and many Germans broke down or screamed openly in the archives after making such painful discoveries. The things humans beings are capable of doing to each other…
***
Ironically, in the bar industry the proportion of people who inform on others is often higher, at least 2 out of 7 (in some places it’s even higher). Of course there are healthier restaurants with solid leadership, who fire toxic employees before they spread their cancer. But there’s always been a problem with backstabbers in the bar industry. The industry often attracts those who are addicted to greed and drama, and once you add in drugs, alcohol, sex, and stress, the environment is ripe for betrayal and distrust.
Backstabbing is worse among front of house staff as countless waitresses and bartenders use any information (real or fake) to throw colleagues under the bus to get a few more shifts, tables, and tips. Or because they’re angry about personal disputes, someone else got to date or bang the person they wanted, etc. Or, especially in the case of waitresses, they just love gossip and drama, no matter how many careers or restaurants it takes down. Thank God their influence is limited to the hospitality industry, because if gossip was a superpower waitresses would crush the world under their heels.
Sure, none of this is as bad as getting citizens jailed, tortured, and exiled, but it’s still morally repugnant and screws with peoples’ lives. It still costs jobs, money, reputations, and leaves victims paranoid and distrustful. I was naive when I started in the industry but it didn’t take long to realize anything you say and do can and will be used against you. To be fair, they’re plenty of men and women I worked with who always had my back, and never betrayed me. But as a principle you should assume anything you say will be told to everyone.
If you want everybody to know something in a restaurant all you have to do is find a waitress, tell them what it is, and say “please don’t tell anyone.” That’s why I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, because there’s always a mole or whistle blower, and the truth always comes out eventually. If the new bartender banged the underage hostess on Saturday everyone will know by Monday. If the promiscuous server gets a third abortion, people will find out no matter how many precautions she took.
Because perversely enough people want to know such things. Human beings love drama and scandal. In restaurants they want to know who’s doing cocaine, who’s fucking who, who’s relationships are falling apart, etc. They claim it’s mostly innocent, or they blame victims and say gossip creates communities. Well in that case restaurant gossip could spawn entire civilizations.
Eventually I referred to such drama and scandals as “ground wars,” and I did anything to avoid putting my boots on the ground. I never cared who was doing what drugs or what people, I only cared if they did their jobs and left me alone.
But if you aren’t interested in gossip, gossip is always interested in you. And since I often wasn’t shy about certain individuals lack of professionalism or work ethic, and was also a high performer, plenty of colleagues had “reason” to target me for a toss under the bus.Maybe I should’ve been smarter and kept my mouth shut, but that doesn’t mean such people weren’t backstabbing assholes.
***
Now before I call the kettle black I’m no saint and won’t pretend I never engaged in gossip or told on anyone. Looking back on my career I had plenty of failings and more regrets than I’d like to admit. But with one exception I never snitched. The guy I exposed was a serial thief and stole everything under the sun; and not just booze, food, and tips. He’d go into the POS and add hours worked for his son, daughter, and obviously himself.
If anyone deserved to be fired it was him and at the time I felt 100% justified. However, he had many children to feed, a mortgage to pay, and he struggled financially for a while. It didn’t take me long to feel like shit. Because it wasn’t my place to expose him, especially in a toxic restaurant where nearly everything was tolerated.
After that, I decided never to narc again, and I didn’t. I’d only go to management if someone was being a complete bully or so toxic it was destroying morale, but only after giving the offender many chances to atone. Because there are times to get managers involved, but it should be a last resort, never a first (and certainly not to cynically advance one’s interests).
Otherwise, I stayed quiet and even covered for more stupidity and unprofessionalism than I’d care to admit. Usually this involved a colleague or manager drinking on the job. Sometimes it would be a bartender or waitress who told off a customer so bad they should’ve been fired or suspended. And given I did my share of telling off customers and drinking on the job it wouldn’t have been fair.
Perhaps the most blatant time I covered for a colleague was when the owners of a pub called me into the office. They showed me the weekend wastage sheet for the kitchen and the spillage one for the bar. My fellow bartender was kind of a tool but otherwise an okay guy. Anyway, there were only three bartenders on at the time but it was obvious who the offender was. When they asked me why every weekend there were five shots of Jack Daniel on the sheet I played dumb. I did the same when asked why so many steaks were being “burned” as well.
Any fool could realize my idiot co-bartender was trading shots with someone in the kitchen for free steaks, but I refused to throw him under the bus. I merely said I had no idea, they should watch things carefully, and walked out.
***
But just because you show mercy and empathy for colleagues doesn’t mean they’ll return the favour. Because If I only truly betrayed one colleague countless of them had no qualms trying to expend me. In a 17 year career I accumulated more stabs to the back than Julius Caesar’s final moments.
The worst instance of this happened over a decade ago.
I was working at the pizza chain outside the city. I’d been there for nearly 10 months. By the time of the incident the place was no longer fun, I clashed often with management, and I was tired of picking up slack of lazy employees in the lounge.On the other hand, I wasn’t employee of the year either. I was still relatively young, stubborn, and not as politically savvy as I could’ve been. And while I was right about the failings of management and the staff it would be fair to label me a “bit” of a malcontent.
The whole thing started when I opened the scheduling app and noticed I had less shifts for the next two weeks than usual (4 instead of 10). In the industry this is a kiss of death, given serving staff are reliant on hours worked and tips to make a living. When managers change the schedule so abruptly like this, especially without warning, it only means one thing: They’re trying to force you out… to make you quit. Rather than having the guts to fire you or come to an accommodation, many managers take this cowardly route. Because unless the person is inherently incompetent or toxic this is a childish way to treat employees.
At this point I had two options: Give my notice immediately, or appeal to the owners. Because unlike most of the managers they were legitimately kind, fair individuals. They’re main failing was choosing subpar subordinates and not correcting them when needed. Perhaps some of this was due to the difficulty of attracting quality people to such a remote place, but that didn’t change facts on the ground.
Regardless, I wasn’t hopeful about the situation, especially given one of the managers was the son of a millionaire who helped bankroll the place… and bartenders like me are a nickel a dozen. As such, I asked for a meeting with the owners but printed off resumes and readied a resignation letter in expectation my efforts would fail. My plan was to be as professional as possible and articulate, diplomatically, how my efforts compensated for employees who didn’t bother showing up or doing what was minimally expected of them. To prevent gaslighting I prepared a letter laying this all out.
I figured I had a 30-50% chance of success and went about my week until Amy pulled me aside. She showed me the screen shots of the manager’s computer and I instantly became numb. “Fuck it, I thought,” at least I’d go down fighting
Because the photos were a catalogue of a few actions in general and some things in particular I said that were… ill-advised. Much of it was mocking lazy colleagues, some of it was slandering management, and there were also utterances making fun of UFC (we aired their tournaments). I’ll be honest, looking back I was a bit of a smart ass and shouldn’t have been as obnoxious at times. But it’s not like the rest of the staff were saints, and unlike them I did my job well.
What pissed me off the most was the quotes were so accurate that it was obvious there was someone (or some people) who were documenting my words and actions methodically. Because the consistency and attention to detail were worthy of KGB and Stasi officers. At the time I thought whoever snitched on me would definitely have volunteered to be an informer for the Nazis or Soviets.
I left the bar that day demoralized, wondering how to handle the situation. Ultimately, I decided I wouldn’t bring any of the comments up and hoped the owners wouldn’t do the same. If they did I planned to deny such comments outright, and if that failed I’d downplay them. Basically, I’d note people in the industry are prone to gossip, say things in the heat of the moment, and it would be naive for them to trust employees who spent more time documenting real or imagined things than doing their jobs.
***
The day of the meeting arrived and I was nervous. I really fucked up a take out order just before we met and one of owners gave me a dressing down, asking how a veteran of the industry could make such a rookie mistake. The criticism of my actions were fair, but the added insult wasn’t. But I rolled with it, took responsibility, and said even veterans have bad days. This was better than getting defensive and moody, given the owners were planning to use my supposed documented malcontentness against me.
When the meeting began there was plenty of tension in the air. “This would be another last stand for me,” I thought. But I was relieved when they said the goal of the meeting was to move forward in a more positive manner and drop past issues. I was relieved, I’d get a harsh dressing down, but they weren’t going to fire me… unless I said something stupid. And given the odds of this wasn’t insignificant there was still a chance I’d leave the room without a job.
Looking back the owners were tough, but fair, and gave me an honest hearing. They were a couple; a man and his wife. He was the good cop, she was the bad one, but usually she dominated proceedings. He was a charmer, she was more blunt, and as she opened the meeting it was initially tense. I’ll admit I was defensive, but not rude.
I told them while I wasn’t perfect I was more reliable than the rest of the lounge staff, and got things done. That if I said some “regrettable” things they had been exaggerated, and harsh statements were hardly unique in the industry. I also made the valid point I was too busy doing my job and covering for other people, that I didn’t have the time to spy and inform on co-workers (who apparently did so on me).
These were fair points but I realized I was getting more terse as things went on, being pissed off with colleagues throwing me under the bus from the shadows. The female owner, the bad cop, had also started escalating this interrogation and we began butting heads.
Thankfully, her husband cut in to cool the situation. He changed tact, becoming diplomatic, yet continued the constant airing of real or perceived grievances provided by soulless informers. However his calming effect worked, I relaxed, and was able to deflect or challenge most of the “charges” levelled me.
Regarding their claim more alcohol went missing on my shifts versus other bartenders I pointed out how often staff members went behind the bar to pour drinks (despite being told constantly not to). To supposed personal slights I politely asked to face my accusers and said it was their words against mine. But I also conceded I’d made foolish comments on occasion, either due to stress or being human.
After I had survived more waves than Omaha Beach I asked them a question in turn. “You just hit me with a long list of things brought up colleagues behind my back, who never tried to work things out face to face.” They didn’t answer, knowing this was rhetorical. “So let me ask you this… during my whole time here (nearly a year) how many times have I come to you or the managers about any colleague or supposedly inappropriate things any of of them did?”
“I don’t know,” the male owner said, “can you think of anything?,” he asked his wife. She admitted she couldn’t list ONE thing. “Not once,” I said with infinite satisfaction, “because I’m not a snitch, I try to work things out with people myself, and because I’m too busy doing my job.”
It was a rare victory in a day of pure survival and retreats. In the end it turned out alright. While the owners gave me a good dressing down and told me they wouldn’t tolerate me being a malcontent, I kept my job. They said they’d ask the managers to return my hours to normal. I knew I’d technically won when they used words like “moving forward” and “water under the bridge.”
But to be fair I was lucky the owners were fair, decent people… and most of the lounge staff were so lazy and unprofessionalthey needed an old, if cantankerous, work horse like me to keep things running. Realizing they’d given me a break, especially as two of their managers hated my guts, I showed humility and gratitude. “Thanks (I mentioned their the owners’ names), I appreciate you hearing me out and it’s great we got to speak honestly. As far as I’m considered everything is in the past and I hold no ill-will against any of my colleagues.” That last part was a bald lie, but I delivered it so convincingly the owners bought it all.
***
I walked out of the office and went straight to the bar. Approaching Amy with a smile I gave a subtle wink to signal I’d lived to fight another day. Then I gave a curt smile to one of the managers who hated me, but completely ignored the rest of the lounge staff. As far as I was concerned they were dead to me, and besides the most perfunctory professionalism I’d never go out of my way for any of them again.
Instead, I ordered a pint and two shots from Amy, and got to them in earnest. On the ride home I realized how lucky I’d been to keep my job, but somehow I wasn’t reassured. I knew even if I kept my head down and did everything right management were out to get me and it was time to find another job, or even calling. After a heavy sigh I decided this would be my final bar job and I’d find another career, even if it was something soul-crushing like office work.
But life often doesn’t turn out how you want it to and I’d be stuck in the industry for at least another decade.