“Music is the space between the notes.”

Claude Debussy

The slow season has finally come.

The boss kepts saying words like “slow down, take a breath, relax a bit…” but the schedule and production weren’t bearing that out, and if you’d asked any of my coworkers, they’d have said it felt like we’d been sprinting since June.

Over post-shift beer, my buddy Nick- the lead prep cook- and I compared what was to be our third holiday season at the winery with the previous two and tried to get our hands around the situation.

“It’s fucking insane…” Nick said, tipping back his pint of amber lager and sucking a little foam off his mustache. “We’re doing business and a lot of it, that’s for sure- but not that much more than last year. Events has a full roster, but prep is still short at least one person. We were short last year too though, so what the hell is it?”

Another swig and he absent-mindedly scrolls on his phone to check the latest football score. “It sucks, bro. Everyone’s mad, everyone’s tired, no ones having a good time.”

I was sitting across from him sipping a dark beer from a goblet glass. It’s a short pour, only 8 ounces because my tastes bend toward the heavier, “bread in a glass, almost syrup” brews that clock in at double-digit ABV. The thicker, chocolately beer lingered as I nodded in agreement. I’d been feeling it too. For every time the boss said “slow down, take it easy”, there’s three times we were reminded that this was “time to get ahead”, got thrown a new event or menu offering to work on, or just nudged that “maybe you want to come in some extra hours? Come January everyone’s going to be looking for rent money.” All true, but it’s not the kind of thing you want rubbed in your face when you’ve already felt stretched thin for the last six months.

Afterward, I was in my therapists office expressing this exact exhaustion and despair. “When does it end? When do I get to rest?” Doc listened to all my stressors and then said, “Your exhaustion is valid and I don’t mean to minimalize it, Matt… but none of this is unique to you. You are a young professional, doing a difficult job well in a challenging world and facing the same pressures your peers are- getting older, rising prices, aging parents… why does it feel so uniquely hard for you?”

I’d thought about that for a moment then said “Because it feels like that’s all there is. Just struggle and little gaps between them, but no payoff. No reward. No goal or finish line to celebrate at.“

The therapists favorite question- “Why?”
“Because the reward for work just seems to be more work.“
“Does it have to be? When was the last time you looked forward to something?”

OUCH. Busted. Guilty as charged.

“… I don’t remember.”

“Maybe you should give yourself something to look forward to.”

If the reward at the end of work is just “a momentary break,” that may as well not be a reward. It sets a person up to assume that their baseline state- their “normal”- is frenzied action, and that rest and winding down have to somehow be earned. It’s toxic productivity and workaholism in a nutshell.

In fairness, it’s not all on the individual. Brene Brown describes it in professional (AND personal) sociology as “forbidding joy.” On the personal level, that looks like having a good thing happen but not letting yourself feel happy because you are waiting for “the catch” or the other metaphorical boot to drop. In management, it looks like not celebrating small victories with your team because you “don’t want to lose momentum” or “don’t take your foot off the gas.”

So what can the reward be? Anything. ANYTHING. Something special set up to let you know you reached a goal. The monthly version of that post-shift beer with Nick. I’d lost track of that, so now I needed to find one, or make one.

It’s January now. The slow season proper. People are having their hours cut and using their vacation time to fluff up their paychecks, or being shifted to other properties that need bodies. My hours are only being trimmed a bit, and the week I spent on the Jersey Shore was maybe not as “restful” as I truly needed- but I’m still claiming my reward.

Time spent resting out of work, and time spent being curious at work.

Research and Development is one of my favorite parts of being a pastry chef. It’s looking up recipes, sketching out ideas, and being paid to nerd out and be curious. I get to put on my wizard/alchemist hat and come up with new pieces to the jigsaw puzzle that is our menus.

“What can I make that’s new? What spot can it fill? How can I make something delicious and impressive to the guest, but newer, more efficient, and more cost-effective than its predecessor? New technique costs nothing- what tricks can I teach my team to conjure deliciousness out of basic ingredients and scraps?”

I need to rest more. I need to reward myself more, and better, and outside of industry life. For the time being, however, I’ll take the opportunity to breathe, be curious, and make magic happen.

Stay Classy,