The Tip Pool Can’t Pay for Therapy: Why Hospitality Deserves Better
But We Keep Showing Up Anyway
Why hospitality deserves better isn’t just a catchy tagline. It’s a quiet anthem whispered behind bars, in kitchens, in server alleys, and after closing shifts. It’s what we mutter to ourselves when we’re scraping by emotionally and financially; but still showing up with a smile, a clean shirt, and at times doing it all while hoping for the best.
Because the truth is: we’re not therapists. And we don’t get one either.
Behind every polished pour and perfect garnish, there’s a quiet kind of pain that’s been normalized in this industry. It hides in the strained smile after a double. In the ache of another “just one more” shift picked up to make rent. In the sound of a voicemail from a friend who never got a call back because the only off-day this month was spent trying to feel even remotely human again.
We need to stir more than drinks. We need to stir a quiet resistance to the idea that hustle equals worth. We need to raise the volume on a conversation that’s been a whisper in back-of-house for too long: that mental health isn’t a luxury. It’s a lifeline.
Because the tip pool can’t pay for therapy.
It can’t patch the anxiety from years of grinding through weekends. It doesn’t get you grief counseling when you lose a regular who felt like family. It doesn’t cover the cost of healing after a shift that emptied everything out of you.
And no, whiskey doesn’t really fix it either.
But community? That’s a start.
Just this week, we hosted a free mental health seminar here in Nashville, designed specifically for hospitality workers. No glam, no sales pitch. Just food, connection, and room to exhale. One of the guests said it was the first time in months anyone had asked how they were doing- and meant it. That landed hard. Because if you’re in this line of work long enough, you know we rarely get asked how we’re really doing. We’re expected to keep pouring, smiling, hustling.
But not here. Not anymore.
This isn’t just for the folks who walk into our establishments wide-eyed and ready to try their first Old Fashioned. It’s for the servers who’ve been told their burnout is a badge of honor. For the line cooks who haven’t had a proper meal in days. For the bartenders who smile all shift, then go home and disassociate while staring into the endless doom scroll. It’s for anyone who’s ever wondered if what they’re feeling is normal, and whether anyone else feels it too.
The answer is yes.
You are not alone.
And we’re not just building your cocktail experience, we’re building something better. We believe in cocktail culture, sure. But we also believe in worker dignity. We believe that whiskey tastes better when poured by someone who feels seen. That healing doesn’t happen in silence. That mental health isn’t a side dish.
And we believe, deeply, that hospitality deserves better.
There are a hundred reasons why. But we only need one: people. Not just their labor, but their lives. We want to give our guests (and our peers) the confidence to know that they’re enough. That they don’t need to bleed for their craft to prove they care.
If you’ve ever poured a drink while having a panic attack, or gone into a shift hoping no one sees you crying in the walk-in, or smiled through trauma just to make rent- you’re the reason this blog exists.
If you’ve never worked a day in hospitality? Welcome. Pull up a chair. You might learn something about the cost of a cocktail that isn’t listed on the menu.
We raise a glass to you.
We’re building something better, together.
A companion reflection, “What We Meant by Better,” lives now in Shift Notes – a quieter look at what we build when belief alone isn’t enough.
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