My commute has recently become a part-time job. Unfortunately, it comes with no salary, no benefits, and very limited opportunities for advancement (especially when the bus isn’t moving). What used to take me under an hour from New Jersey into New York is now taking close to two with the work affecting NJ Transit trains and the Port Authority Bus Terminal. And to be clear (stealing one of my favorite Jimmy-isms for that one), I’m not standing in a station waiting to leave. I’m ON the bus. Seated. Annoyed. Anxiety building. Watching brake lights and mentally calculating all the things I could have done in the time it’s taking me to travel a distance that suddenly feels like a cross-country expedition. By the time I get to the office, I feel like I should be congratulated for completing something. But alas the only award I have is my breakfast of Overnight Oats! (IYKYK).
Here’s the thing…. I love going to the office. I like being around people. I like the conversations that happen between meetings, the ideas that come from overhearing something, and being able to turn to Schatzy or Drewe and ask a question without making the phone call. I work in hospitality, media, partnerships, and events. Being together is a big part of how we do what we do. There is energy in B-Works that I don’t get sitting at my kitchen table… even if the kitchen table has a significantly better commute. So this is coming from someone who actually WANTS to go in. And normally it’s fine, but now, with a double whammy of transit work? But now…
After 2 weeks (of an estimated 12 weeks) in bumper to bumper traffic… you start doing the math. An extra hour getting in. Potentially another getting home. What could I accomplish with those hours? Work, obviously. But also dinner with my kids (And if you know me, that’s my non-negotiable). A workout (that isn’t taking place before the sun rises…). An errand. A little breathing room between the professional part of my day and the part where somebody needs me to find something that is directly in front of them. We talk so much about efficiency at work. We have tools to save minutes, software to streamline tasks, and meetings about how to have fewer meetings. Then we spend hours getting to the place where we’re supposed to be more efficient. It’s a conversation worth having, even for those of us who genuinely enjoy being there.
Ok Julie, we get it, you’re annoyed by your commute. But what’s your point?
Well… obviously I found a parallel to working remotely and hospitality workers. (Duh). You can’t work the grill from your living room. You can’t clear table twelve through Teams. And despite everything technology can do, you still can’t Zoom a french fry. Someone has to receive the delivery, prep the ingredients, cook the food, hand over the order, wash the dishes, and clean up so it can all happen again tomorrow. For restaurant workers, showing up is a physical requirement. When the commute gets longer, they can’t simply decide that today’s shift would be more productive from the kitchen table. Their kitchen is somewhere else, and they have to get there.
We saw that reality when the world shut down. While many of us moved our meetings onto screens and learned which corner of our homes looked most professional on camera, restaurant workers who were able to keep working continued showing up. They prepared takeout, packed orders, fed people, and helped restaurants keep going through extraordinary uncertainty. There was no remote version of that shift. We depended on people being physically present so the rest of us could stay home. I think about that now when we talk about flexibility, because the ability to work from anywhere has never been evenly available.
And yet, when a restaurant worker’s bus gets stuck in traffic, the consequences can be very different from mine. I might send a message that I’m running late, move a call, (take a call from the road…. GUILTY!!!!) or answer emails along the way. Someone heading to a restaurant shift may lose pay, receive a warning, or get written up. They can leave early, build in extra time, do everything they’re supposed to do, and still arrive late because the commute had other plans. Imagine spending an extra hour trying to get to work, already stressed about being late, and then being penalized when you finally walk through the door. That’s a rough way to begin a shift where your job is to make everyone else feel taken care of.
I understand that restaurants need people there on time. A shift is a team effort, and when someone is missing, someone else has to cover. The breakfast rush doesn’t pause because the bus is stopped in the Lincoln Tunnel. But there should be room to ask what happened before deciding what it means. Is this someone who regularly disregards their schedule, or someone who regularly shows up and is suddenly dealing with a commute they can’t control? Those are different situations. A conversation, a closer look at scheduling, or some flexibility where it’s possible can make a difference. Especially when the alternative is asking someone to donate more and more of their day to the possibility that transportation might fail them.
Hospitality asks people to be patient, attentive, adaptable, and kind. We expect restaurant teams to handle the guest who arrives late, the order that changes, and the situation that doesn’t go according to plan. I hope we can extend some of that same understanding to the people providing the hospitality. They have kids, appointments, bills, and entire lives on either side of their shifts, too. Their time matters, including the time they spend trying to get there.
I’ll still be going to the office. I’ll still complain to everyone when I walk in the door. And apologies in advance for the morning calls. And if this keeps up, I’ll be taking a page out of Buddy the Elf’s book and walking through the Lincoln Tunnel (but unlike Buddy… for breakfast…I’m keeping the overnight oats… spaghetti and maple syrup aren’t really my thing).
