Founder’s Story • Part 2 of 3
New here? Part 1 is where it started: I Spent 25 Years in Food. I Missed What Was Happening in My Own Body.
Go home. That’s why you have a team.
My wife said it more than anyone. My boss, team and my friends said it. I usually heard it from people who hadn’t gone home either.
That’s the first thing that nobody tells you about the industry. The advice I was given and the behavior that I saw were completely separate universes. I learned very quickly that what gets rewarded isn’t balance or time with your family.
It’s your presence.
Things ran better when I was in the building. I knew it, my team knew it, so I stayed. Eight hours was a half day. Nobody made me do it, but the culture rewarded it. Somewhere along the way I started measuring my value by how much of myself I could give to it.
I got in early most days to get ahead or stay prepared. Then when I was about to go home, someone took an early out, a VIP walked in, or a banquet doubled in size. And somehow I was always the person expected to save the day. Every day offered a different reason to stay. Especially if I had plans.
One night, my wife and I had hockey tickets and planned to grab something to eat before the game. I was supposed to leave work and meet her. Something came up, then something else did. I kept telling myself I just needed a little more time.
I never left.
The tickets went unused, and she went home without me. At the time, I treated it like another night when work had to come first. Looking back, that was the pattern. There was always a reason to stay, and the people I cared about were usually the ones expected to understand.
I worked six days a week for months at a time. My body was screaming at me that it needed rest. I started snapping at people who were nice to me and my fifth coffee at 4pm wasn’t working anymore. I couldn’t handle one more problem. My day off came, and it wasn’t rest. I needed to check in with a friend, pay my bills, or visit a doctor. Instead, I was still reading emails and making sure I had staffing for tomorrow’s service.
Then, another successful hotel opening, a five-star rating, a promotion with a larger bonus. Friends in the industry told me I was doing something great. I took it as proof I was doing the right thing. I used that to convince myself the cost was worth it. If the approach was wrong, why did it keep getting rewarded?
Endurance and health are two separate things.
I confused one for the other for most of my career. Fatigue that didn’t resolve after a night’s sleep or a day off. Joint pain from being on my feet all day. Gut issues I wrote off as stress at the time. I forgot what calm felt like, even when I appeared to be calm.
Hospitality is built on a particular kind of pride. The ability to make people remember how they felt. Spinning a plate as you finished garnishing the food for a VIP. Surprising your team by showing up on a holiday you had off and being the person in the room that everyone depends on. That type of pride produces genuinely extraordinary work. That work overshadows your ability to hear your body. Hearing your body means admitting limitations. In a culture built around performance and presence, limitation feels like weakness.
No one around me was talking about what chronic stress does to the body over time.
I can’t say the work caused it. But I know it wasn’t helping, and I know I kept ignoring what my body was trying to tell me.
I thought exhaustion was the cost of doing something meaningful.
The knowledge existed. It just was not part of my conversation.
I did not understand yet that the work would take more than I had to give.
Continue the story → Part 3: What Portugal Taught Me That Supplements Never Could
Live well,
Nathan
Educational only — not medical advice. Consult your physician before changing your health, diet, or exercise routine.