I was surprised to learn that for 2019 Ireland ranked second on the United Nations Development Index (UNDI), a measure of 180 countries that considers not only income, but also health and life expectancy as well as education. It might not seem like it, with a cost-of-living crisis and hospital waiting lists, but – looking in – Ireland is one of the best places to live and work in the world.
Then why is it so difficult to “get people”? Everyone talks about the great resignation and the detrimental effect of shutdowns on hospitality. The pandemic was not without impact, but the issues facing the industry aren’t simply pre- and post-pandemic. I’ve been working in hospitality since 2009 and in my view a better comparison is the first and last half dozen years.
The Irish céad míle fáilte relies on a proportion of migrant workers. It is no different from any other English-speaking country in this respect, and no less authentic for it. The first major change in the profile of our workforce is where these workers come from.
Between 2012 and 2016, some of our team went back to Poland, to Hungary, and elsewhere in Eastern Europe. Others are still in Ireland but have moved on to something else, either more lucrative or more compelling: full-time home-makers, drivers, bankers, and builders.
We are fortunate that we don’t have to choose between seeing our children every day and making a future for them
Now we get job applications from students here with a student visa, known as a Stamp 2 permission, that allows them to work on a limited basis. They are graphic designers and engineers, lawyers and marketing graduates. Their president is every bad name you can think of and his closest competition in the upcoming elections just got out of jail. Brazil is ranked 84 on the UNDI. It can be very hard for young people there to get that first opportunity on the employment ladder. But they have big dreams and to make them come true all they need is fluent English.
The visa allows foreign nationals (such an unfriendly term) to come here and study, to work 20 hours a week during term time, and 40 hours a week during holidays. To get this visa they need to show they have access to €7,000, which is “the estimated cost of living in Ireland for a student for one academic year”. That seems both too low an estimate and a significant barrier to actually getting here from a country where the average salary is €470 a month. Time spent here on a Stamp 2 is not reckonable for naturalisation.
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Mauritius, meanwhile, is number 66 on the UNDI. In the early 2010s we had one or two Mauritian chefs. Now, most of our food team is from that small island. Mauritius was once colonised by France, and a legacy of great pastry combined with culinary influences from around the Indian Ocean, and being a 5-star paradise, add up to a skilled and experienced catering workforce. The first Mauritian chef that we hired on Zoom arrived in Dublin in the middle of the pandemic. The general employment permit process has become much more streamlined than it was, with an online portal, and there is a quota of permits available for chefs of all levels. The processing times have gone up, however, despite the Department hiring extra staff. General permits do not give the employee any right to bring family over. To do that they need to be earning, if they have two children, €652 a week net for two years, a salary of €40,000.
We are lucky to be able to access this talent. We are fortunate that we don’t have to choose between seeing our children every day and making a future for them.
The second major change in the profile of our team is the proportion of full- versus part-time staff. In the early 2010s most were full-timers, supplemented by part-time staff who came on board at weekends, during the summer and over Christmas, when it was busy and suited us both. Now it’s mostly part-time staff front of house, whether that’s the Stamp 2 students I mentioned above or Irish students.
My heart sinks: he’ll be paying €700 a month for a single bed in a shared room that can barely fit the other single bed
The Irish kids are transition year through college. They apply, or their mothers apply, because it’s time to get a job. Some of them are super-focused brain boxes. Or creative and cool. Or timid yet determined. Or a little floaty, winging hangovers on their wit and a smile that can charm any customer. They get really into it – the ethic is catching – the cash, the craic, and it’s the best work experience they’ll get. If they’re lucky to live at home during college, then the wages are a windfall. But if they pay rent and fees then things are considerably tighter.
Another accident of geography, this time more localised.
Covering a rota where most of the staff are part-time and we need to work around college schedules is a very tricky endeavour.
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This is where people will chime in that we’d have no difficulty getting people (sometimes they seem to specify Irish people) if we paid them a decent salary. David McWilliams says that “the pendulum which has swung far too much in favour of capital is swinging back towards employees…”, and that employers are competing to lure workers which is good for employees. The difficulty as regards restaurant businesses is that there is no excess capital: staff costs are already running at an unsustainable level of turnover. Further, higher menu costs will make Ireland less competitive as a destination. The bill doesn’t add up.
The second, related difficulty, and the single most pressing issue for every adult on our team, is the cost and shortage of accommodation. One chef with us shows me the room he is moving to. My heart sinks: he’ll be paying €700 a month for a single bed in a shared room that can barely fit the other single bed. There are 10 people living in the house. Extortion like this gives decent landlords a bad name.
Given how well Ireland ranks as a place to be, we should be able to attract more people to work in hospitality. But if they cannot find accommodation at a price that will make it worthwhile to stay and work, they will leave, and tell their friends not to bother coming.
Angela Ruttledge is a co-owner of two Dublin restaurants