Sun Sentinel Palm Beach Edition

Hospitalit­y workers scramble for jobs

For many in South Florida, there’s less work, less pay

- By Arlene Borenstein-Zuluaga

A third of South Florida’s hospitalit­y workforce is gone and the ones who are left are dealing with an industry tasked with protecting their bottom line, not so much the employee.

That’s the reality for hundreds of thousands of industry workers, some mourning top-level careers or leaving hospitalit­y behind altogether because of COVID-19.

“We have about 850 employers who regularly post positions with us about every three to 10 days. I post these jobs myself on the list serve. We are down 80%,” said Peter Ricci, who tracks hospitalit­y employment trends and jobs as director of Hospitalit­y Management

Programs at the Florida Atlantic University College of Business.

Even as the second round of Paycheck Protection Program loans kick off, industry insiders expect restaurant­s will not staff up to pre-pandemic levels.

“It is a buyer’s market leading to the best possible hires for the organizati­ons and the worst possible job market for hospitalit­y and tourism employees,” said Ricci.

Industry profession­als are accepting jobs they are overqualif­ied for, and other workers are returning to the same position for less money or fewer hours, according to Ricci.

Chevy Farrell, 35, felt helpless as he watched his hospitalit­y career tumble like a Jenga tower — careful to build, easy to destroy.

In the summer of 2018, while juggling full-time restaurant work elsewhere, Farrell scored a part-time job as a statewide brand ambassador for Bar Hill Gin. It took him a year’s work to turn the opportunit­y into a full-time job, earning a $60,000-plus salary.

It took about a month into the shutdown for him to be furloughed.

“I know a lot of people struggled. It hurts. It really messes with your emotions,” Farrell said.

With street cred as the former bar operations manager for Sparrow in Fort Lauderdale and Ball and Chain in Little Havana, Farrell was hired back into the business, but not the way he pictured it.

“I am now a bartender,” said Farrell, who recently accepted two part-time jobs tending the bars at Louis Bossie’s Ristorante Pizzeria Bar on Las Olas and Glitch Bar in Flagler Village.

“It was a need,” said Farrell who has lived in Victoria Park with his girlfriend — also in hospitalit­y — for three years.

“It’s time to make money because we burned through so much, through savings. Pretty much wiped it out. Living in South Florida isn’t cheap,” he said.

And despite being relieved to have steady work after eight months, Farrell says he also can’t deny feeling derailed.

“There is a little bit of disappoint­ment coming with it, not being the person that’s running the show, or really using the experience that I’ve gained over the years...to where now I am just settling in and, ‘Hey’ these are your drinks, let me make them,’ “Farrell said.

The hospitalit­y industry was not prepared to shut down abruptly for a crisis of this magnitude, say industry experts.

“When you close your doors and have no cash reserves, you have no option to furlough or lay off employees. It shows how week-to-week, day-today, cash-strapped hospitalit­y businesses are,” said Ricci, who adds that having a six-month cushion for employees to land on would have helped.

“We weren’t well prepared and this left a sour taste for people who straight up say they don’t want to go back to the business,” said Ricci

Laurita Santacater­ina is one of them. Early in the pandemic she lost her job as a casual dining server in West Palm Beach.

“I have helped out friends with little side jobs like helping a move, dog sitting, watching a friend’s apartment, but nothing steady,” said Santacater­ina

“I was heartbroke­n after being let go,” she said. “The pandemic kind of changed my scope of where I want to pursue my employment in the future.”

Santacater­ina found a new calling after receiving a free hot meal at a food distributi­on site.

“I didn’t have to think about what I was going to eat that night for dinner,” she said. “I started volunteeri­ng the same day.”

The former server is now a regular volunteer with the non-profit organizati­on that helped her, Food Rescue US Miami/Broward. The organizati­on shifted its original mission of rescuing food from big events for a more pandemic conducive mission: It gives grants to restaurant­s that make hot meals for hospitalit­y workers and people in need. Taquiza in North Beach is one of them.

“Places like Food Rescue have been such a blessing for us that they are able to bring us a little bit of business and therefore feed the community. It’s a cyclical amazing thing that we are helping everyone out,” said Christine Martinez, operations manager for Taquiza.

Since the shutdown, the organizati­on has funded numerous restaurant­s while providing about 52,000 meals.

“When we realized this would go on for a couple of weeks and there were more hospitalit­y workers out of work indefinite­ly, that was when we decided we were going to partner with local restaurant­s and set up what we call community kitchens. That’s what I am most proud of in my life, is coming up with this idea,” said Ellen Bowen, Miami/ Broward Site Director for Food Rescue US.

Santacater­ina hopes to continue this type of work. “I’m thinking now of maybe switching and seeing if I can get a role in an organizati­on like this,” she said.

One of her fellow volunteers who is also a furloughed hospitalit­y worker says she also may not return to the industry.

Alena Isengildin­a went from a group sales position at the Fountainbl­eu hotel in Miami Beach to working as a nanny this December.

“I was babysittin­g, overlookin­g homework, preparing meals here and there. I also helped the household. I would basically clean around,” said Isengildin­a.

The 37-year-old also picked up bartending and serving gigs to pay the bills, the types of jobs she never pictured herself going back to after working in sales.

“At the end of July, we lost our pandemic relief funding,” said Isengildin­a. “From September all the way to December, there was kind of no money whatsoever. I still highly consider stepping away from hospitalit­y even though I love it, I love it with passion.”

John Moore held two top level positions as a general manager and brand director for Steel Tie Spirits in West Palm Beach. But after getting laid off, he picked up three bartending jobs.

“I really can’t think of any group that has been more hard-hit in terms of the ability to earn a living than the hospitalit­y community,” Moore said.

The 48-year-old worked his first bar shift at the age 19 as a barback, and has worked in hospitalit­y ever since. He recently moved to St. Augustine where he’ll be working with a team of people to create a new brand of liquor.

“When we get the new brand up and running, it is meant to, in part, rise up in support of the hospitalit­y worker,” said Moore.

 ?? MIKE STOCKER/SOUTH FLORIDA SUN SENTINEL ?? Chevy Farrell gets ready for his first night behind the bar at Glitch Bar in Flagler Village in Fort Lauderdale on Jan. 12.
MIKE STOCKER/SOUTH FLORIDA SUN SENTINEL Chevy Farrell gets ready for his first night behind the bar at Glitch Bar in Flagler Village in Fort Lauderdale on Jan. 12.
 ?? SOUTH FLORIDA SUN SENTINEL
MIKE STOCKER/ ?? People pick up free meals from Food Rescue Us in front of the restaurant Taquiza in Miami Beach on Jan. 6.
SOUTH FLORIDA SUN SENTINEL MIKE STOCKER/ People pick up free meals from Food Rescue Us in front of the restaurant Taquiza in Miami Beach on Jan. 6.

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