For me, it never felt like “work” because of my family’s support. Even with long hours and missed family milestones, I saw it as an investment in my future career. Both of my parents had careers they didn’t consider “work” either. A career, to me, is all-consuming—it weaves into every part of your being and keeps you dreaming of its potential. My efforts were aimed at providing educational opportunities and social advantages for my family.

The idea of “work-life balance” can be tricky for chefs, especially when it comes to physical separation from family. I remember the early days in the kitchen—once you stepped through that back door, you were cut off from the outside world. Some of us even slept in the kitchen. Our brigade was like a fraternity, a source of energy and camaraderie. The discipline and military-like structure shaped our character, much like military service has done for generations.

This sense of purpose eased the anxiety that could come from the long hours. Those who struggled with it often lacked a clear culinary direction or passion. Sometimes, when chefs speak about their love for the kitchen, it can come across as selfish. Success in this industry requires intense focus, almost a form of tunnel vision. As Chef Norman Van Aken says, “The industry selects you, not the other way around.”

Most chefs will say, “I wouldn’t be successful without my family,” and what they mean is that mental separation is different from physical absence. Those who find success manage to be present, emotionally and spiritually, for their families when they’re not physically present. Greatness in anything takes time, whether it’s your profession or your family. Life is never perfectly balanced; it’s about compromise.

Today’s youth face the challenge of constant social pressures, feeling the need to balance everything all the time. They miss the bigger picture—life is about prioritizing over time, not achieving balance every day. This pressure to be perfect, especially in time management, can create fear before life teaches patience.

Recently, I interviewed a Michelin-starred chef who was considering a private club job. When we discussed balance, he mentioned wanting to come home at 10 p.m. instead of 1 a.m. Without asking, I might have assumed he wasn’t willing to put in a full day. It reminded me of my first trip to China in the late ‘80s, when I told my wife, “I’ll see you when I return.” With no cell phones, Skype, or Zoom back then, communication was limited to postcards, which often arrived after I had already returned. That was a different kind of loneliness—one born of physical separation and communication challenges.

But you can also feel lonely at home, even when surrounded by family. Balance is a mental choice, a decision to engage and spend quality time with those around you. We all have that choice, but many don’t see it when they head into the kitchen every day. Maybe those who work from home discovered more about balance during the pandemic. Now that I work from home, I miss the energy of my staff, but that’s just another compromise.

One of my favorite quotes is, “Ask a busy person for help—there’s a reason they’re busy.” Being busy comes in phases, and no schedule is ever seamless. True balance comes from how we engage with those around us. Regardless of work schedules, we have the power to make a positive impact. I share this with young professionals, and it’s often a relief for them to hear.

In my first Executive Chef position, I took most Sundays off. I hired an Executive Sous Chef who took over Sundays, and this wasn’t just about family—it was about teaching him to set his own priorities. Leaders must teach their teams the importance of setting priorities because great businesses never slow down.

Later in my career, I worked under a selfish, insecure boss whose demands affected my health. It’s an experience many can relate to. I eventually had to leave that job, but timing those moves carefully builds a better reputation.

When I present to culinary students, I describe my career as a pyramid. At 18, I spent most of my time on the physical demands of the job because that’s all I had to offer. As I gained skills, I shifted from physical to mental work, focusing on delegation, accountability, and leadership. The kitchen is still a physical job, especially during peak seasons, but the thrill of creation and mentorship helps chefs push through.

My career includes 15 years of growth and seven years as an actual Executive Chef. Many students are surprised to hear that. Leadership isn’t about titles—it’s about who you work with and for. Mentorship is where I’ve found the most joy, and I’ve been lucky to be mentored by incredible club members. True professionals don’t have endless time, but they prioritize what’s important to be the most effective.

Club + Resort Chef – October 2024

Lawrence T. McFadden, CMC, ECM is a food and beverage training consultant and search executive with KOPPLIN KUEBLER & WALLACE, a consulting firm providing executive search, strategic planning and data analysis services to the private club and hospitality industries.