BETWEEN SHIFTS

Published 13.02.2026 

There is something uniquely humbling about knowing you are very good at what you do… and still getting told no. Or worse, getting absolutely nothing. Silence. Not even a polite rejection. Just the corporate equivalent of being left on read. Now before anyone thinks this is a violin moment, it’s not. The hospitality market is tight. I know that. Margins are thin. Investors are cautious. Everyone is “reviewing structure.” Fine. I get it. But let’s not pretend it doesn’t mess with your head a little when you have decades of results behind you and you’re still refreshing your inbox like a teenager waiting for a text back.

What I have realised is this isn’t really about ego. (maybe a small bit)It’s about purpose. Hospitality people are not wired to sit still. We like momentum. We like busy. We like walking into a room and knowing something will happen because we’re there. We miss the rhythm of a shift. The eye contact across the pass. The silent agreement that if this whole thing goes sideways at least we’ll go down laughing. You don’t just miss a salary. You miss being needed. And yes, the salary helps when the mortgage and the martini both expect paying because neither has any interest in my spiritual growth.

There is also the social gymnastics. “So what are you doing now?” It’s a brilliant question. Innocent. Friendly. Mildly soul destroying. You craft an answer somewhere between visionary consultant and man-who-owns-too-many-comfortable-trousers. Then you pivot the conversation. Quickly. Because explaining market conditions over canapés is rarely fun. And the longer it goes on, the more you start wondering whether you still fit into your suits. Literally and metaphorically.

What saves me, honestly, are the small anchors. A weekly walk with a friend who is also not exactly where they planned to be. A phone call that resets the brain. Those moments are gold. They stop you spiralling into nonsense about being “past it” or “too expensive” or “maybe I should just…” No. This is not about being incapable. It’s about timing. And markets. And cycles. And the fact that hospitality, for all its romance, is still a business that panics when numbers wobble.

I can keep doing the sensible things. Reaching out to my network. Applying for roles. Posting thoughtfully. Building a website that makes it look like I have a master plan. Going to the gym and sweating out the frustration. All good habits. All necessary. But what I actually miss is camaraderie. That sense of being part of something slightly mad but completely alive. Sitting opposite a colleague in silence and knowing you could both collapse into laughter at any second. Learning something new. Mentoring someone. Being stretched. Being needed. Waking up knowing the day has shape. Even in your elasticated trousers. When work has been a core part of your identity for most of your adult life, its absence leaves a noticeable gap.

And if you don’t have the built-in distractions of children, dogs, chaotic family schedules, or other beautiful noise, the quiet can feel very loud. It can feel frustrating. Exposing. Occasionally embarrassing. But here is the part I refuse to ignore: this phase does not erase capability. It tests patience. It tests ego. It tests resilience. It does not cancel experience.

I know I am not the only one sitting in this strange in “between shifts”. Experienced. Willing. Still ambitious. Just temporarily benched. So if you’re out there, scrolling, applying, smiling politely when someone asks what’s next, you’re not alone. This is not a pity party. It’s a reality check. We are still here. Still capable. Still ready. Just waiting for the right door to open instead of kicking down the wrong one out of panic.

And when it does open, I suspect we’ll be sharper for it. (GOD, I hope so!).

Slightly more grateful. (Of course!) .

Possibly back in a suit. (Or not!).   

Ordering that martini. (Definitely!).