A new restaurant owner recently posted something raw, honest, and painfully familiar in a group full of people who live this life every single day. She shared that she was almost a year in, but felt like she had aged ten. She explained how she had gone through more employees than she ever imagined possible—some wanting more hours, others wanting fewer hours but higher pay, others wanting schedules that fit perfectly around their personal lives, and many bringing constant personal issues that required last-minute flexibility. Some showed up annoyed at the very work they were hired to do. The polished, eager interview version of each new hire lasted about two weeks before the real version appeared. She trains, she sets clear expectations, she stays hands-on, and still the result often feels like chaos.

In just three weeks, she lost three employees. Her husband works full-time, leaving her to be everything: chef, cook, manager, marketer, HR, scheduler, problem-solver. She loves the restaurant—it was their dream—but dreams get heavy when you’re carrying every part of them alone. She wasn’t complaining; she was reaching out. Asking how others survive this life. How they find reliable people. What questions help reveal character. Whether trial periods help. Any insight at all, because her exhaustion had become its own kind of crisis.

What followed was powerful. The post didn’t sit unanswered. Dozens of owners, operators, and managers chimed in. People who understood the exhaustion behind her words. People who had stood exactly where she stood. People who knew the feeling of being one call-out away from collapse. I responded as well, echoing what so many were already expressing: her struggle wasn’t unusual—it was the universal stage that almost every restaurant owner walks through in the early years.

The first year doesn’t just test your systems. It tests your capacity, your boundaries, your resilience. It turns enthusiasm into grit. It forces you to confront the gap between how you hoped things would go and how the industry actually works. Staffing issues make you feel like you’re rebuilding the same house every week while trying to live in it. But she wasn’t failing. She was adjusting, strengthening, and building the foundation that every successful operator eventually relies upon.

Across the thread, one theme dominated the conversation: character outweighs skill. Skills can be taught. Character cannot. The smartest way to reveal character isn’t with yes-or-no questions but with detailed, real-world scenarios.

Experienced owners emphasized the importance of asking, “Tell me about a time when…”
Not hypotheticals. Not guesses. Actual lived experiences.

For example:
“Tell me about a time you sent the correct information to the kitchen, but the guest said the order was wrong. How did you handle it?”

A real answer includes details, actions, thought processes, and follow-through:
“I apologized, offered to remake the order, looped in my manager, we decided to comp it, the guest left satisfied, and we even received a positive review afterward.”

The shallow version—“I reordered it and apologized”—says nothing about character, ownership, or integrity.

The same applies to internal accountability.
“You’re behind on chores but need to pick up your child from daycare. What do you do?”
The right candidate describes communication, responsibility, and problem-solving, not shortcuts or excuses.

One seasoned operator in the thread pointed out a clever technique: ask a similar question later in the interview. If the details shift, if the tone changes, if the story contradicts itself, you have your answer. Consistency is a form of honesty.

And that’s where trial periods come in. Many operators encourage a 30–60 day onboarding phase where structure is not optional. The right people thrive in expectations. The wrong people fight them. Either way, you find out early—before you’re rebuilding schedules for the fifth time in a month.

But beneath all the tactical advice, the most important truth shared was this: she was carrying far too much alone. Many owners burn out not because they lack ability, but because they try to do everything at once. One reliable hire—just one—can shift the entire rhythm of a restaurant. It gives you room to lead, not just react. It gives you space to breathe, not just survive.

The collective wisdom in that thread was more than advice. It was solidarity. A reminder that the messy middle—the part where everything feels unstable and overwhelming—is not the end of the story. It’s the beginning of becoming the operator you need to be. She wasn’t breaking. She was becoming stronger, sharper, and more aware.

And she wasn’t alone. None of us were when we went through it. And she isn’t now.

Owners who survive this industry don’t do it because everything went smoothly. They survive because they kept going through the seasons that weren’t. They refined. They adjusted. They held standards. They learned to value character. They learned to build systems. They learned to stop carrying the entire dream alone. And eventually, they found the right people. When that happens, everything changes.

But the conversation didn’t end there—it opened the door to deeper questions. Questions every restaurant owner, manager, and operator should ask themselves:

Are you hiring for skill because it feels urgent, or for character because it’s sustainable?
What story do your interview questions actually reveal about a person?
How much structure have you built—and how much chaos are you accidentally allowing?
Where are you carrying too much alone, and who could help carry even a small piece of it?
Are your expectations clear, consistent, and enforceable—or are they flexible in ways that drain you?
If someone watched your hiring process from start to finish, what would they say it prioritizes?

These aren’t easy questions, but they’re the right ones. They shape the future of a restaurant more than any menu change, renovation, or promotion ever could.

And now, the question turns to the wider community of owners and operators:

What has your experience taught you about hiring, burnout, reliability, and resilience in this industry?
What interview questions help you identify character?
What shifts made your restaurant run more smoothly?
What’s the advice you wish someone had given you in your first year?

If you’ve lived through this season—or are living it right now—your story matters. Your insights matter. Your perspective might be exactly what another owner needs to hear to get through their week.

Share your thoughts. Share your lessons. Share your truth.
This industry is hard—but when owners talk to each other, it gets a little easier.

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About the Author

Paul Segreto brings over forty years of real-world experience in franchising, restaurants, and small business growth. Recognized as one of the Top 100 Global Franchise and Small Business Influencers, Paul is the driving voice behind Acceler8Success Café, a daily content platform that inspires and informs thousands of entrepreneurs nationwide. A passionate advocate for ethical leadership and sustainable growth, Paul has dedicated his career to helping founders, franchise executives, and entrepreneurial families achieve clarity, balance, and lasting success through purpose-driven action.

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About Acceler8Success America

Acceler8Success America is a comprehensive business advisory and coaching platform dedicated to helping entrepreneurs, small business owners, and franchise professionals achieve The American Dream Accelerated.

Through a combination of strategic consulting, results-focused coaching, and empowering content, Acceler8Success America provides the tools, insights, and guidance needed to start, grow, and scale successfully in today’s fast-paced world.

With deep expertise in entrepreneurship, franchising, restaurants, and small business development, Acceler8Success America bridges experience and innovation, supporting current and aspiring entrepreneurs as they build sustainable businesses and lasting legacies across America.

Learn more at Acceler8SuccessAmerica.com