Sarcastic Survival Guide to the Evolution of Hospitality, Staff Insanity, and the Great Quinoa Lie

Written like a caffeinated therapy session by Chef Steve Matthews

⚠️ WARNING:

This isn’t a blog. It’s a 10-minute dark comedy roast of everything that’s gone wrong in hospitality, food culture, and customer behavior over the last 30 years. From Yelp psychos and quinoa conspiracies to cruise ships filled with disappointment and kale-flavored regret—this is one man’s painfully raw, hysterically honest rant about an industry he still loves (against his better judgment).

Let’s Get This Clear: Hospitality Used to Be Human

There was a time—kids, gather ‘round—when hospitality meant you welcomed people. You didn’t just seat them with an iPad or make them order with a QR code that opens a menu in a format so hideous it makes your eyeballs consider early retirement.

We used to talk to customers. Yes, talk. As in actual conversation. You learned their kids’ names, their favorite table, and if you were lucky, which bottle of Merlot they’d pretend they could actually taste the difference between.

Now? You’re lucky if a human makes it to your table before you’ve already had a nervous breakdown trying to scan a black-and-white barcode that might be from the last tenant's menu.

Customer Behavior: Then vs. Now

Customers used to come in hungry. Now they come in angry. Angry at the price, the wait, the fact that you're out of oat milk foam for their lavender chai anti-inflammatory unicorn dust latte.

They used to be grateful. Now they bring Yelp with them like a loaded gun. “Just so you know, I write reviews.” That’s not a flex, Karen. That’s a cry for help.

We used to deal with human needs. Now we cater to dietary trauma masquerading as identity. “I’m keto-vegan-pescatarian on weekends, but not during Mercury retrograde.” What does that even mean? Are you just here to eat or summon Poseidon?

Staff Culture: From Pirates to Preachers

Back in the day, restaurant staff were bandits. Pirates. Lunatics. The line cooks were drunk, the bartenders were high, the servers were dramatic theater kids, and somehow, it all worked.

We were one dysfunctional, high-functioning family powered by adrenaline, sarcasm, and a mutual understanding that we would all die if brunch got busy.

Now? Staff are woke. And I don’t mean in a political way—I mean they’ve gone full corporate. HR-approved uniforms. Corporate onboarding slides. Sensitivity seminars. Which is fine, necessary even—but where did the edge go? Where’s the swearing? The heart? The 3am after-shift camaraderie that could either turn into a philosophical conversation or a bar fight?

Now they’re filing digital complaints because someone said “behind” too aggressively in the kitchen.

Cruise Life: Floating Cities of Artificial Joy

I worked cruises. Let me tell you—if you want to see every layer of human personality peeled, baked, and flambéed in real time, live on a boat for six months.

Cruises used to be a reward. A celebration. A retirement gift or a honeymoon dream.

Now? They’re floating Petri dishes of disappointment. You’ve got kids sliding face-first into chocolate fountains, angry retirees arguing about bingo, and a crew that’s been at sea so long they think “land” is a myth created by marketing.

And the food? Oh, the food. If you ever want to see how much processed cheese the human digestive system can withstand, attend a midnight buffet on a discount cruise line.

Hotel Hierarchy: The Soap Opera Nobody Asked For

Hotels are their own kingdom. The front desk? Royalty. Housekeeping? The unsung heroes. Maintenance? Actual wizards who fix hell with duct tape and black coffee. The General Manager? Thinks they're running the U.N. But God help you if you’re late to the morning meeting and your tie isn’t symmetrical.

It’s a cast of characters straight out of a sitcom, except the laugh track has been replaced by passive-aggressive post-its and back-of-house gossip that spreads faster than COVID at a spin class.

And somewhere in all this, you’re expected to deliver a “five-star experience” to a guy who just dumped ketchup all over a $40 filet because “he likes it better that way.”

The Health Food Delusion: Kale vs. Common Sense

Let’s talk food. Real food.

We used to eat. Like actually eat. Meals had butter, salt, flavor. They were cooked by someone who learned how to burn themselves 47 times before perfecting a steak.

Now? Everything’s a health claim. We’re no longer cooking—we’re curating experiences for the anti-inflammatory lifestyle. Everyone’s gluten-free until the bread basket comes. Everyone’s sugar-free until dessert. Everyone’s an “intuitive eater,” which basically means “I eat whatever I want but sound smug doing it.”

Oh, and kale. Kale is not a vegetable. It is penance. It is the leafy symbol of everything wrong with modern wellness culture. You don’t enjoy kale. You endure it so you can brag about it on Instagram.

Fast Food’s Glow-Up (and Implosion)

Fast food used to be simple: greasy, cheap, delicious. Now it’s… artisanal? Locally-sourced? Made by someone with a man bun and a sociology degree?

Taco Bell serves breakfast. Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays and open about your sins. McDonald's now has touchscreen kiosks, and their ice cream machine still doesn’t work, which I’m now convinced is a psyop.

You want a burger? It’s $18, comes with aioli, and the fries are “twice-cooked heirloom potatoes.” What does that even mean? What’s an heirloom potato? Was it passed down from the potato gods?

Food Trucks: Hipster Mobile Dreams on Flat Tires

Let’s be real—food trucks used to be the backup plan for a failing brick-and-mortar. Now they’re the dream. Until the dream dies halfway through summer because your deep fryer explodes and you’ve parked illegally outside a craft brewery during gluten-free beer week.

Food trucks are the only place where someone with no culinary training and a $200K student loan debt feels qualified to charge $22 for “fusion tacos.”

It’s Thai-Mexican-Southern-Peruvian. Served in a biodegradable bucket. No substitutions.

Technology Ate the Industry and Left a Tip in Bitcoin

Remember when you actually called a restaurant to make a reservation? Now you need a login, a confirmation code, and an emotional support animal to navigate OpenTable.

POS systems were supposed to make life easier. Now it’s like piloting a space shuttle every time you ring in a Caesar salad. Online ordering platforms take 30% commission, and delivery drivers show up with your food cold, upside down, and halfway eaten.

The tech was supposed to elevate us. Instead, it’s turned restaurants into SaaS companies with grease traps.

The Future? Probably Vegan. Definitely Weird.

Where are we going? Who knows.

AI menus. Robot bartenders. Ghost kitchens that don’t actually exist. It’s all coming. And you know what? Fine. Let it come. Because you can automate food, but you can't automate passion. You can robot-pour a beer, but you can’t replace the old bartender who remembers your name, your drink, and the story about how you met your wife.

The human side of hospitality isn’t dead—it’s just really good at hiding under all the noise.

And some of us are still here. Still building. Still burning our fingers on hot plates and getting yelled at by Yelp warriors, but doing it anyway because this industry—this life—still matters.

So yeah, it’s been 30 years. It’s been chaos. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Except maybe working from home. In sweatpants. With Wi-Fi.

But that’s another story.

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“WARNING — This Product Could Seriously Damage Your...”

• Sense of Humor
  Prolonged exposure may result in uncontrollable laughter in inappropriate places, including staff meetings, weddings, and funerals.

• Marriage Stability
  Side effects include passive-aggressive comments like, “Well maybe if you were more like that Teka Originals mug…”

• Desire to Eat Kale Ever Again
  May cause users to scream “This isn’t food!” at green smoothies. Consult your taste buds before continuing.

• Digital Detox Goals
  This product is known to increase screen time by 4000% as users obsessively refresh for new sarcastic blog posts.

• Inner Peace
  Can result in rage-laughter and the resurfacing of suppressed trauma from your last cruise buffet experience.

• Career Plans
  May cause sudden urges to quit your corporate job and open a food truck called “Fried Regret.”

• Respect for Minimalist Design
  Excessive use may trigger addiction to absurdly bold, chaotic branding. Users may refuse to shop at IKEA again.

• Relationship with HR
  Reading these blog posts out loud in open offices can lead to involuntary visits to Human Resources.