03/17/2020
We’re in the service industry because we want to facilitate good feelings. When times are stressful and uncertain, it’s our instinct to open our doors, set the tables, and light the fires, so everyone can find some solace and normalcy over food and drink and music and art with each other. We strive to create an environment for you to be with the people who celebrate the good times with you, and help you though the bad. We are grateful—honored, really—to provide a place for revelry, and a comfort in times of trouble.
But now, the root of the trouble is precisely the one thing we’re geared toward: being together. This is an existential dilemma.
Those of us in the industry find ourselves trying to juggle three vital priorities that have never been in such conflict in our careers: our dedication to service, compelling us to stay open in order to satisfy our desire to provide hospitality and community; our loyalty to staff, pressing us to hustle and create whatever revenue we can still scrape together so that we can pay our staff so they can live their lives; and our ethical responsibility to the greater population, insisting we face the ever-mounting evidence that the crucial thing to do is encourage everyone to self-isolate aside from critical needs.
And as much as it pains me to say it, restaurants are not critical right now.
The service industry and the arts community are going through the hardest time I hope we ever see in our lives. In solidarity with those who have had to close up shop, cancel gigs, or reschedule shows, and with the sound techs, musicians, bar backs, dancers, stage hands, actors, club owners, artists, and all the rest who will feel the impact of this difficult time, I feel that the only right move is to cease operations for the foreseeable future. Not forever, but for now.
All of us collectively must commit to hunkering down and flattening the curve so we can get through this as quickly and as safely as possible, with our concern squarely on the most vulnerable among us.
We will be back. Doors will be opened, instruments tuned, silver and glasses polished, voices and ovens and amplifiers warmed up again, and those of us who live to make our crowd feel good will get back to the work we know and love.
But for now, we have to go dark. For all of us.
See you on the other side.