A shot with a customer. A knock-off after a hard day. Letting out some steam after a hard week. Something to take the edge off.
It’s part and parcel of an industry built around creating good times and a feeling of being taken care of. Of course, the good times are on a spectrum for staff members. At some establishments, it’s a gentle adventure. At others, a road to reckless abandon. But what’s most curious is what “good times” arise when the industry is with itself – when the party is held by or for the hospitality industry, and what this reveals about its inner workings.
There’s an emerging awareness within the media and the industry itself of mental health challenges, and the crime, harassment, and problematic behavioural cultures affecting workers. Year after year I see another flash-in-the-pan concern, or a governmental response that’s a pittance in contrast with the magnitude, nuance and complexity of these issues. We’re aware things are not as they should be, and foundering to say so, or to throw something at it to fix it. So why haven’t we made much headway?
The industry is suffering. It is ill, and the conversation is scary. For many years, I took great comfort in the fear of this conversation. Many years in which I lived in active addiction. I wish I could say it was quiet suffering, but I suffered very loudly. And the industry embraced my suffering with its deeply embedded culture of obliteration.
See, the suffering was not even recognised as such – rather, it was the cost of doing business, and I paid it gladly alongside others. I annihilated my stress and anxiety with alcohol and other substances, and I fit in very well for it. In hospitality, suffering hides in plain sight.
Earlier this year, I woke up to the reality of what I have been doing to myself for over a decade. If it continued, I would die soon. I had come close many times.
I stopped everything – drinking, using, and this miserable nightmare I called partying. I went to rehab and intensive therapy programs, then got myself into sobriety fellowships. I dedicated my life to changing the way I was reacting to my pain. In my treatment I was diagnosed with complex post-traumatic stress disorder – the culmination of trauma from my childhood, adolescence and adulthood. My lifelong yearning for vices melted away from what I romanticised as edgy and glamorous to what I now see was a desperate and harrowing effort to escape myself. And things made so much more sense.
I’m grateful to say I’m now in recovery, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done – for myself, my career and my relationships. I’m privileged to have accessed the resources I did, as I was able to do so alone, when the industry and government did not have those resources available in any meaningful way.
But in my return to my industry, things didn’t look the way they did before.
My mind winds back to the industry’s awards culture: events held by established hospitality media publications, commonly with sponsorship from international and national brands – some of which are multi-billion-dollar entities. The things that go on when the industry is in its own company, and there are no guests. A culture of unchecked indulgence; a culture of obliteration, in which drinking is paramount, and drugs are the cherry on top.
In my career, and while I was in active addiction, I found myself at hospitality award ceremonies where acceptance speeches were accompanied by bottles of whisky poured over the winners, while they shotgunned RTDs – all sponsored products. Quips on stage about drug-taking in the bathrooms were common. I’ve been greeted with entire bottles of whisky – again, sponsored products – on my table, only to have them replaced with full bottles after we’d consumed them. The bar then handed out even more bottles of sponsored spirits on request, for our free-pouring amusement.
I took this egregious decadence to be the norm; in a way I also perceived we would never dare present to guests or the public. RSA was simply a performance, and that crowd had gone home.
Sydney Bar Week is an annual, week-long event by Australian Bartender that boasts sponsorship by the top players in the liquor industry. In this year’s line-up is the Idiot Savant Awards. This is the program with categories like All The Gear, No Idea (Hottest Bar Team) and Best Bathrooms for Extracurricular Activities. In this, industry organisation and recognition is subverted by the objectification of human beings and glorification of drug use.
That these have penetrated the zeitgeist of what is supposed to be a reputable and genuine hospitality publication is not a surprise, in the face of a cultural old guard in the bar industry. Key players holding steadfast to the antiquated ideals of suffocating pain with drugs, alcohol and inappropriate behaviour – and impressing this upon the industry proper. This is what we call “legend culture”, a pillar of the bar community, manifest.
When our industry leaders and media propagate and normalise these messages, it’s unsurprising industry participants gravitate toward the culture of obliteration as a means of placating the anxiety and overwhelm of life in hospitality. When at the upper echelons, substance abuse and harassment is glorified and sobriety is mocked, where do we turn when we need support?
This is not a matter of blame, but a call to action: what are we willing to accept, and what can we work to change? Dr Gabor Maté says, “The question is not why the addiction, but why the pain.” So what is the pain in our industry?
To truly address this, we need to move past empty gestures. We need to address the lack of proactive support tools and advocate for real change: skills, awareness and non-exclusive networks at all levels of the industry. We need an industry that’s open and willing to discuss and take action on matters of inequality, objectification, harassment, mental health challenges, addiction and recovery – in ways that are consistent, genuine and sustainable.
This is a crisis many decades in the making, and it ought to be taken seriously. Another start-up, another day of awareness, another pathetic government stimulus, another iPhone app, is not enough. To think that we can continue spot-treating this epidemic is an injustice to those who dedicate their lives to this industry.
I don’t purport to have all the answers. But my thoughts on what may help are as follows:
• Acknowledge that maintaining the status quo is irresponsible and unsustainable, and that we need to disempower and dismantle the hyper-masculine “legend culture” across the industry.
• Instil more diverse and equitable representation in decision-making and consultative roles in industry bodies, including media and events organisations – particularly women, people of colour and people who are queer.
• Create transparent media and industry awards and events, where it’s clear who the stakeholders are, why the decisions are made and what vested interests are at play.
• Enforce accountability for the questions of RSA and corporate social responsibility in cases where product sponsorships and partnerships feature in, and are used for, industry events in harmful and reckless ways.
Staff health and wellbeing must become an industry priority. This includes interpersonal and cultural leadership, corporate social responsibility, and addressing this phenomenon of RSA being treated as a performance for the public while seemingly not applicable to the industry itself. We need integrity.
Until we collectively treat the underlying causes of these systemic industry challenges with serious and considered support, we will continue to witness the symptoms manifest in harmful and insidious ways for decades to come, while the diverse, innovative, and sustainable hospitality industry this country deserves will remain but a dream.
If you or someone you know is experiencing depression or anxiety, call Lifeline Australia on 13 11 14 or visit lifeline.org.au.
If you would like to speak with someone about an experience you have had, or would like information, please call 1800Respect on 1800 737 732 or visit 1800respect.org.au.
Broadsheet publishes a range of opinion stories from independent contributors. The ideas and views expressed in these pieces don’t reflect those of Broadsheet or its staff.
