Reasons not to be a chef.

I understand why you wouldn’t want to be a chef.

These days, when there are more opportunities to work from home or to work as a freelancer in your own time, being tied to a place of work for fifty or more hours a week may feel outdated.

And I get it. Sometimes I, and I’m sure most other chefs, do find it hard too.

There are mornings when I wake up to an already physically exhausted body from a long shift the day before. I feel soreness in my hands, arms, legs or my back. I may feel groggy, under the weather, or even just a normal level of tired, but rather than getting some rest, I will be going back to work to do the same movements and stand on my feet for nine hours or more.

When I am walking to work in the cold morning air, I sometimes find myself longingly looking into offices and workspaces where people get to sit down most of the day, where they get to sit at a desk, drink coffee, whilst typing away on their computers. They can scratch their nose, eat a snack, or even bring in their dog, with no need to worry about any hygiene regulations. One of the shops I pass on my way to the restaurant even has a resident cat.

Sometimes I envy those who, when they wake up feeling under the weather, simply get to decide to stay at home and work from the comforts of their bed. Wrapped up warm, tea by their side, they can continue to earn their wages.

Sometimes I long for the regular hours of a 9 to 5 job. Knowing that no matter what, evenings and weekends are reserved for yourself. If a friend invites you to their birthday party on a Friday night in a few weeks, you know you’re going to be free. Working in hospitality, I need to remember to run this past my supervisor, to make sure I will not be put on the rota that evening. If there’s only short notice, the chances of switching shifts and getting time off become slim. I have to accept that working evenings and weekends means I spend less time with friends or calling family.

After a day of work, I may have collected the occasional burn, bruise, or cut. My hands are dry, my limbs are stiff, I smell of sweat, food, and smoke. My hair, after a day of being tightly tied back, needs some encouragement before it regains some of its regular shape. I see people getting dressed up, showing off their outfits on social media and looking nice when they go to work, knowing that this is not an option for me. I have to accept that I spend a great deal of my week red-faced, make-up-less, in baggy dark clothes, clogs, and a food-stained apron.

It can be a tiring, stressful profession.

But then, many jobs are. Everyone finds negatives in their jobs and the grass may always seem greener for others.

So despite all that, the job continues to reward and energise me. I am proud to be a chef, to work in a physically challenging job, to make great food in an enthusiastic and experienced team where it is not about looks but purely about work ethic and skill, and to create memorable experiences for customers.