Will Hospitality Employees Ever Escape Their Third-Class Stigma?
Cognitive biases in Hospitality and how they affect the way we view an entire industry.
Photo by Daniel Angele on Unsplash
Jamie Mah @grahammah
“The question that is most often asked about cognitive illusions is whether they can be overcome. The message… is not encouraging.” — Daniel Kahneman, Thinking Fast and Slow
One of the most classic phrases used in the English language is that "one should never judge a book by its cover." This simple idea hits at the heart of our identity as human beings, as it challenges our natural predisposition to do just that. Social media is a perfect example of this phenomenon, as we've become transfixed by the ability to dole out judgment in the form of likes or retweets. Dating apps are even worse as they cause us to choose, in seconds, if someone is worth swiping left or right for. This reality got Mark Zuckerberg in trouble with Harvard when he created the Hot or Not game one drunken night on campus. As wrong as it was, it elicited a response even he probably didn't expect — that when pushed to decide, we love to judge each other, even when the information we're given gives us very little to work with.
Confirmation bias — probably the most pervasive and damaging bias of them all — leads us to look for evidence that confirms what we already think.
I'm immediately reminded of the movie Titanic when I think of biases and social class distribution. How Leonardo Dicaprio's character, Jack, and Kate Winslet's character, Rose, straddle the unfortunate cultural divide between the haves and have-nots. She comes from money; he does not. As the film progresses, we experience the vast range between them, and it's in this chasm that we witness humanity's perils.
Thematically, the film's central narrative (outside of a sinking ship) is that love has no boundaries, even if we believe there are. It's a courtship of the highest regard as Jack whisks Rose on a three-day journey into a life she barely knew existed. In this exploration, she witnesses that those they led her to believe are beneath us are not that much different than she expects. Rose's revelation forces her to view those people in her life whom she loved (or thought she loved), chiefly her fiance and mother, through an enlightened lens. Their fear and utter disregard for individuals not of their ilk is hardly hidden. They strive to save face and remain on top, no matter the cost — lest you one day become a seamstress. It's this quote from Rose's mother on the perils of her shenanigans and the loss of their family fortune that prompts the movie's most poignant concept — that status is everything.
With specific reference to those who work in hospitality, its status, and how we perceive ourselves and those around us, which perplexes and fascinates me. As hospitality workers, our societal roles have drastically changed as many have forged noble careers as bartenders, sommeliers, and chefs. Besides exceeding in an industry rife with turnover, these same folks have realized that the enduring perception of hospitality employees as individuals who are encouraged "to get a real job" is still massively prevalent and pervasive.
In this respect, I acknowledge that bias towards hospitality employees exists, that they are stigmatized and judged to have less value than, say, a plumber or electrician. This seems wrong. Nevertheless, even as I write this, I'm quick to understand that there are plenty of unjust things in this world. Crying spilled milk because you don't garner the respect you feel you deserve is placed in many occupations. It's a fact of life. We often place value on people and things, which can be a bit puzzling.
For example, an actor, Brad Pitt, will make more money than a neurosurgeon who saves lives. This is strange and troubling. But again, it's a fact of life. Regardless of how one feels about this outcome, to understand why this happens, one only has to realize what they (i.e., Brad Pitt vs. neurosurgeon) offer and how they differ. A neurosurgeon will save several hundred lives in their lifetime. It's a noble and honorable profession. An actor of Brad Pitt's stature will grant celebrity adoration and entertainment to millions worldwide. What they offer is different, yet we find their actual value in how many they connect to us. It's the idea of value that I want you to remember.
To harken back to Rose and Jack, the dilemma Rose's mother saw in her daughter's dalliance with Jack wasn't that he couldn't make her happy. This was of minor importance to her future. It was in what he could provide that she came to focus on — that of Jack's status and worth. Unfortunately, he possessed very little of both; Thus, his perceived value in her mother's eyes was zero. Transposing this view onto hospitality workers, I wonder, can they counter such a belief? Can those who work in this industry absolve themselves of this zero-sum outcome? Could a bartender named Jack ever be seen in the same light as someone like Rose? Could they ever be judged to have equal value?
This idea of cognitive bias came to me a few months back when I was discussing my friend's dating life. Like me, he too works in the industry, and as a single man, he's found it challenging to navigate the perception he receives when women he's interested in find out what he does for work. As someone taken to using dating apps, his approach on this subject has led him astray many times as prospective suitors have stopped responding once they've learned how he makes a living. Their reactions to his line of work stem from a pre-formed bias we use to navigate and make quick decisions. Rather than get to know my friend, we utilize clues and snippets of information to make snap judgments, which we employ as evidence to confirm what we already think or suspect.
For example, when we often hear the words chef, server, or bartender, the following often comes to mind:
Server, chef, bartender = poor, drunk, partier, lack of education.
In acting this way, we often ignore any piece of evidence that may support an alternate view.
Server, chef, bartender = makes a solid living, is active in their community, runs a second side business, competes, and wins cocktail/wine/chef competitions. Has traveled the world extensively and has a University degree. Enjoys working with people, etc.…
This type of bias is called confirmation bias, and it was first explored by the famed psychologists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky. As Kahneman elaborates in his book Thinking Fast And Slow: "We use confirmation bias as a way of selectively retrieving evidence, instances, and images that would make the statement true."
We do this to make our lives simpler.
It's easy to see a hospitality worker as someone on their way to "getting a real job." It's a perception that's been reinforced for decades. But part of the stigma stemming from this biased behaviour is the viewpoint that one should want to find a real job even though their brain and happiness could be telling them otherwise. In this respect, the dilemma of one who works in this industry is fraught with a narrative that what they may love doing is not worth their enjoyment. My friend likes his job. He makes a great living doing it. But society has told him and those around him he shouldn't be proud or willing to stay where he is, as it is, quote-unquote, "not a real job."
Therefore, have our cognitive biases caused a vital industry to feel their effort and time are not worth our respect?
They have, and I want you to hold that thought.
Throughout Titanic, we witness the grace and confidence of Jack as he straddles the uncomfortable divide between a world he's grown up in and one they never invited him to. The critical point in the movie I'd like to point you to is when Jack attends dinner with Rose's family and friends. Sitting at a table with a bunch of wealthy aristocrats forces Jack to realize that his efforts to woo Rose will only succeed if a change in attire is achieved. Luckily for him, he's aided by the hand of a wealthy old lady (played by the lovely Kathy Bates) who provides him with a beautiful tuxedo to wear, which aptly "shines him up like a new penny." When he arrives at the dinner, Rose's guests marvel at his transformation.
“By changing the way we perceive an actor, our perception of who we think they are also changes.” — Kahneman
Jack went from being a third-class bum before dinner to a first-class gentleman afterward. In understanding this scene, I want you to remember one key line I referenced earlier. Kahneman states: "Confirmation bias… is a way of selectively retrieving evidence, instances, and images that would make the statement true."
This clip proves that the confirmation bias held by those who dined with him was false, as had they not known that he was from third class, they'd have never been the wiser. In grasping this idea, our ability to value those around us changes. Regarding hospitality workers, our jobs depend on our ability to engage with strangers. We provide delicious meals and drinks from some of the brightest minds. Sommeliers train for years to learn what they know. Bartenders and chefs are much the same. Their value, what they provide as a service, has grown. The experience one will receive at a top-flight restaurant today is much higher than 20 years ago. Yet this hospitality field is still chained to a past ideal — that this is a placeholder career. We're still often seen as Jack's in grubby clothing and not as Jack's in tuxedos. Our value has increased, but our perception has not.
Social psychologists have researched cognitive bias for a long time, and many lean on the Müller-Lyer illusion as proof that our thinking mind can trick us into believing something when all evidence suggests otherwise. Here's an excerpt from Ben Yagoda's 2018 column from The Atlantic, where he details the Müller Lyer illusion and its perceived effect on our way of interpreting cognitive biases.
“One line’s arrows point in; The other line’s arrows point out. Because of the direction of the arrows, the latter line appears shorter than the former, but in fact the two lines are the same length. Here’s the key: Even after we have measured the lines and found them to be equal, and have had the neurological basis of the illusion explained to us, we still perceive one line to be shorter than the other.
At least with the optical illusion, our slow-thinking, analytic mind — what Kahneman calls System 2 — will recognize a Müller-Lyer situation and convince itself not to trust the fast-twitch System 1’s perception. But that’s not so easy in the real world, when we’re dealing with people and situations rather than lines. “Unfortunately, this sensible procedure is least likely to be applied when it is needed most,” Kahneman writes. “We would all like to have a warning bell that rings loudly whenever we are about to make a serious error, but no such bell is available.”
Because biases appear to be so hardwired and inalterable, most of the attention paid to countering them hasn’t dealt with the problematic thoughts, judgments, or predictions themselves. Instead, it has been devoted to changing behavior, in the form of incentives or “nudges.”
This is where I’d like us to get to.
When you are ready to break your narrative, Kelly Boys in her book The Blind Spot Effect suggests asking these questions: “Is there anything about this thought that I’m believing because it’s an easy, coherent story? Is there more to the story than this?” — Barry Brownstein
Author Malcolm Gladwell's most recent book, Talking to Strangers, details our failures in this arena as he posits we so often "default to truth" when we encounter those we do not know. His book centres around the death of a woman, Sandra Bland, who hanged herself in prison after a horrible and unjust encounter with a police officer. Gladwell tells the story of Sandra point by point, from how she was stopped by a police officer, Brian Encinia, to their interaction and eventually to how it all unraveled.
The point Gladwell wants to showcase is how we so often misinterpret those whom we do not know. "If we were more thoughtful as a society — if we were willing to engage in some soul-searching about how we approach and make sense of strangers — she would not have ended up dead in a Texas jail cell," Mr. Gladwell writes.
Jack came from nothing, but in three days, he showed Rose that there was much more to him than meets the eye. We often lose sight of this and have invariably cast some in an inferior light because of our shortsighted and biased viewpoints. Working in a kitchen for 14 hours daily while making delicious food is noble. The same goes for a sommelier who presents and serves a $300 bottle of wine.
The life of someone in hospitality is always challenging. We work late, and we're always expected to be "on." Breaks never happen as we live and die by our patron's generosity. You're on your feet for hours, and when shit hits the fan, and you get rocked with four tables or six bills at once, you're expected to remain calm even when you are not. This line of work is only for a select few. Some love it. Some hate it. Others tolerate it. Wherever you land on this spectrum, one thing is sure: this job is just as crucial to our economy as every other profession we deem significant.
Our best work comes from bright minds who create great things. A few friends of mine recently built a cocktail that floats in midair. Crazy! Concoctions such as these make going out to the hottest restaurant in town on a Friday night fun — we're superb at what we do.
Some of us may be only here for a short time, others possibly longer. But as Danny Meyer once wrote in his acclaimed 2006 book, Setting the Table, "In the end, what's most meaningful is creating positive, uplifting outcomes for human experiences and relationships. Business, like life, is all about how you make people feel. It's that simple, and it's that hard."
Hospitality workers are some of the best people around. My friend is a gem. Those who don't or aren't willing to see that are missing out. Rose opened her eyes and saw something special in Jack; from that, he gave her some of the most memorable days of her life. Like him, our stature is never third-rate. I'd like us to default to the truth on that.