not SM out here with the official statement and legal bs i'm weak

Creative resentment

From heaven to hell

During the quarantine, back in March 2020, one of my friend and I wanted to open an online Branding Agency. Having the same goal in mind, we started to build an organised Drive to gather all the required materials. Becoming a freelancer is not such an easy job but many people are voluntarily dreaming of being their boss more than ever (Hershey et al., 2017). A lot of dedication and self-thought skills are required, but in the end, it can be the most satisfying feeling. In simple terms, I was the one dealing with the Graphic Design part of the agency and my friend was coping with the Web Design area. Because both domains work together, our long-term idea could have become sustainable in terms of money and offered quality services. Purchasing a package containing brand identity services along with a personalised site is the bundle many customers aim for in the 21th digitalised century. Unfortunately, neither of us was certified in his subject and the other one’s subject, but we were willing to learn on the way.

Opening a business implies a lot of topics to cover, but despite all the issues we faced we got stuck at the one that supposed to be the non-existent. The mission of creating a brand identity reflecting our traits, emotions and personalities dramatically failed (Lin & Sung, 2014). If somebody would have guessed why our idea suddenly stopped (spoiler alert?), it might be because of a legal matter, the subject designers want to deal the least, but just thinking of not being that made the situation worst.

The struggle

After days of thinking about an interesting name, I came up with the idea of “iscreambrands”. The story behind? “Scream” represents a really powerful word. Whatever the sound is, it certainly makes “things” being observed anytime when is passing a closed space. I preferred thinking about a joyful shout when saying “scream”. A moment of sudden happiness. “Brands” are what we wanted to create. And especially powerful, outstanding brands that would make people wonder who was the artist behind them. “iscreambrands” was meant to describe the fact that “We eat brands for breakfast. We know what we do and we are doing it like professionals.”

Setting a buyer persona and our top 3 beliefs and features helped me understand better what we aim to show to the outside world (Neumeier, 2005). My and my friend had many online conversations where we set and wrote down every aspect that could have lead to strong brand equity (So, King et al., 2017) simultaneously understanding the customer’s and the company’s perspectives trying to create a balance between them. Only through fully understanding our purpose and emphasising with the others’ need we could have delivered unforgettable services and products. 

Despite that our unique selling proposition did not reach my standards and now, looking back, the accumulated frustration was slowly appearing since this moment.

Brainstorming for logo creation process (Cimpoesu, 2020)

It was not the first time for me when I was creating a brand identity from scratch but just having in mind that it's a personal company made it 100% harder.

Creating the brand identity process begun with gathering inspiration and sketching the logo. From the first moments, I have known both of us wanted to be a typographic logo simply showing the entire name. This would have had represented a conversation starter when meeting a possible customer or competitor. Despite that I tried to sketch and explore more sides, looking for that brilliant idea. In my work, the main goal is always to find a story worth to tell when explaining the visual identity. I consider “How would you ever think of that?” type of questions as being the number one priority achievement when interacting with the public willing to discover one of your artworks for the first time. At the same time the logo should have had include any type of illustrated motion symbolising vibration and emotions. In a few words seeing the logo for the first time would have had create and shivery feeling.

Youth, spontaneity and empathy were our defining traits. Yellow was the main used colour and minimalism was the followed style. As simple as it sounds, creating a Mood board was an item that helped me visualising our preferences in order to go further on the right path. Or not.

iscreambrands Moodboard. (Cimpoesu, 2020) All sources and many more here & here

After many hours spent on researching, visualising, brainstorming, drawing, colouring, writing and vectorising nothing was good enough. The plan B was to start visualising the website of the brand. Again, ideas would not appear under any circumstances. Asking myself “Why do I have a blockage? Why could I not see anything even surrounded by al those materials?” while maintaining a positive attitude gave me shivers every time. “I followed all the steps the theory is listing and all I could create is a mainstream logo.” 

Overthinking every step ahead and every possible scenario can be your closest friend and worst enemy (Kapferer, 2008, pp.15-17) if you are being realistic and have enough patience.  All of a sudden nothing was good enough for me to have the will of promoting the agency further. In addition, I came up with a conclusion that there are not many materials published online, helping you overcome the lack of creativity issues.

(Not) all stories have happy endings

My mind is usually visualising things quickly after understanding the brand's needs and story but now it was different. Every learned and followed principle it was not applying on “iscreambrands”. I did not feel the need to create it.

Why? While I was aggressively waiting for the best idea to show up, I started to hate the whole concept and question my actions towards it. In addition, I did not see a bright future for the agency anymore as I started having other priorities. Despite all initial long-terms objectives I was not prepared enough to share ideas with someone else. It sounds a little bit selfish, but being totally transparent with myself I have finally let this though out after many attempts.

iscreambrands logo (Cimpoesu, 2020)

Creating a personal brand identity should be easier in theory because you, as a graphic designer know from the start all the steps, needs and the desired outcomes. On the other hand, it can be really stressful to reach your high expectations, especially when you are not seeing a stable final product. Graphic design includes emotions and despite the struggle of not take every client-based project as a personal one, in this case the opposite happens involuntarily. Exactacting yourself from visualising your personal brand as never too satisfying takes practice and many tries and failures.

“iscreambrands” remains a short journey while I have learned a lot about myself and the others present in the business environment. It is a goal I have stepped outside of my comfort zone for and met a lot of creative people from whom I have learned design tips and tricks and not only. These types of actions are recommended for people willing to challenge themselves because the desired change is guaranteed and visible.

As a future graphic designer, this experience left me with the two major following questions I cannot fully answer at this point in my life, despite of the research I made: “Is it going back to the drawing board always effective? What if you are not feeling that the outcome will be worthy from the beginning?”

To conclude, aiming to create a personal brand was a effective start, but only the experience of working with myself and with other clients will lead to reshaping my creative perspectives, over the years.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cimpoesu, C. M. (2020) Brainstorming for logo creation process. Unpublished personal artwork.

Cimpoesu, C. M. (2020) iscreambrands Moodboard. Unpublished personal artwork.

Cimpoesu, C. M. (2020) iscreambrands logo. Unpublished personal artwork.

Hershey, D., van Dalen, H.P., Conen, W.S. and Henkens, K. (2017) "Are “Voluntary” Self-Employed Better Prepared for Retirement Than “Forced” Self-Employed?", Work, aging and retirement (Online) vol. 3, no. 3, pp. 243-256. Available from: https://doi-org.ezproxy.herts.ac.uk/10.1093/workar/wax008 [Accessed: 20th of December 2020]

Kapferer, J. (2008) The new strategic brand management: creating and sustaining brand equity long term, 4th edn, London. Kogan Page

Lin, J. and Sung, Y. (2014) "Nothing Can Tear Us Apart: The Effect of Brand Identity Fusion in Consumer-Brand Relationships", Psychology & marketing (Online) vol. 31, no. 1, pp. 54-69. Available from: https://doi-org.ezproxy.herts.ac.uk/10.1002/mar.20675 [Accessed: 20th of December 2020]

Neumeier, M. 2005, The Brand Gap, 2nd edn, New Riders.

So, K.K.F., King, C., Hudson, S. and Meng, F. (2017) "The missing link in building customer brand identification: The role of brand attractiveness", Tourism management (1982) (Online) vol. 59, pp. 640-651. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tourman.2016.09.013 [Accessed: 20th of December 2020]

I’m Through Being Silent About the Restaurant Industry’s Racism

Alexandra Bowman

As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table

This is Eater Voices, where chefs, restaurateurs, writers, and industry insiders share their perspectives about the food world, tackling a range of topics through the lens of personal experience. First-time writer? Don’t worry, we’ll pair you with an editor to make sure your piece hits the mark. If you want to write an Eater Voices essay, please send us a couple paragraphs explaining what you want to write about and why you are the person to write it to [email protected].

A few weeks ago, I watched my tattoo artist, Doreen Garner, post an Instagram video about the racism in her industry, and saw Brianna Noble get up on her horse and demand change in the equestrian world. They inspired me to go on Facebook to address the racism where I work: the restaurant industry.

As I wrote in my Facebook post, the restaurant industry is extremely racist: Its racism is inseparable from the history of dining out in this country. Restaurants here flourished after the Civil War, a period when Black people in the hospitality sector were still technically working for free due to the widespread adoption of tipping, which allowed employers to avoid paying their workers. Racism literally shaped the restaurant landscape, too: Here on Long Island, where I live, the racist practice of redlining prevented Black restaurateurs from obtaining business loans or leasing buildings in particular towns — and thus denied them the same opportunities as their white counterparts.

The effects of such discrimination have been everlasting — something that I have learned firsthand as both a Black server and diner. In the six years I worked in restaurants, I never saw BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of color) in management, or even a Black bartender; most people of color were forced to remain in the back of house, or as bussers and runners in the front of house. And as a diner, I’ve seen how the industry’s culture of discrimination plays out from the other side of the table, too.

I began working in restaurants in 2009, while attending grad school. The first place I served was a corporate Southern-themed steakhouse on Long Island; not long after I started there, a coworker was fired for using racial slurs about a Black family who was dining with us. The restaurant’s owner individually apologized to every Black employee, and the swiftness of his actions assured me that racism would not be tolerated. The following year, I began my career in fine dining at a popular seafood restaurant on Manhasset Bay. The staff was mostly BIPOC, and included several Black females. This restaurant had its issues, but during the two years I worked there, diversity was not one of them.

But when I returned to the industry in 2018, after a six-year hiatus, I discovered that my previous experiences were anomalies. One evening, while I was training as a server at a farm-to-table restaurant, I asked the trainer how she made recommendations. “Well, they’re Asian, so I recommended the octopus because Asians eat weird food,” she said of the table we’d just served. “Excuse me?” I replied sternly. She tried to backpedal, saying something about how “Italian guys” also loved octopus.

Months later, I caught one of the managers and two servers discussing the treatment of Black people as it relates to our work ethic: The manager implied that there were times we were treated better than we deserved because of our skin color. The two servers looked shocked, but neither corrected her. Being the only Black employee and server of color, I quit immediately. But that evening, the restaurant’s owner and I had an honest conversation. She advised me to not let ignorant people affect my wallet, and she had a point: I was broke and living in my mom’s guest room. So I stayed. But, in hindsight, I should’ve demanded that this manager be fired. Although she was eventually let go, it was for her inferior management skills, not her continued racist antics.

Although the guests at that restaurant usually treated me with respect, I was degraded on several occasions. One evening, while I was recommending wine to a table, one of the diners, a white man, winked at me and said, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Am I right?” There was so much I wanted to say, especially to his wife, who just laughed nervously. Instead, I recommended the tempranillo and walked away. Who could I tell? If a manager wouldn’t be checked, how would a guest?

I stayed at the restaurant for a year and a half. Shortly before my departure, one of my customers, a senior citizen, grabbed me. “You know what they say about Black women?” he whispered in my ear. “You taste like chocolate.” He then attempted to kiss me. I pulled away, but I didn’t want to hurt him — I could already imagine the headline: “Black Server Abused Elderly White Man at Long Island Restaurant.” So again, I walked away. But this time, I cried in the hallway while my coworker consoled me. Others seemed to think I was overreacting, as if the customer had complimented me. I didn’t have the energy to point out that Black women are neither a fetish nor a fantasy, and that the sexual harassment we often experience is linked to the ways we’ve been hypersexualized throughout history.

Most recently, until the pandemic began, I was working as a server and marketing consultant at a new Long Island steakhouse. Three of my coworkers were equal-opportunity racists who made derogatory comments about everybody: from the Latinx staff members to a table of Black people, no one was off limits. Almost everyone who worked there was aware of it, but the attitude was one of “You know how this industry is.” One time, when I defended some guests whom one of these coworkers presumed were Jewish, he asked if I was a “Black Jew.” In response, I referenced “First they came...” and expressed that I stand up for everyone, and then politely told him to shut the hell up. He did, but continued to be openly racist towards me — the restaurant’s lone Black employee — and the Latinx bartender.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices.

While the restaurant’s clientele was generally kind, there were still the middle-aged white men thinking they were Tupac, telling me I was the prettiest Black girl they’d ever seen. And the white women who felt the need to be “down” when I approached the table. “Hey girl!” one of them told me. “Your makeup is on fleek. We’re trying to get lit.” Know that I am laughing at you, I thought. You sound like Len from 30 Rock. You are 45 years old in a Talbot’s pant suit. Please stop.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. It is debilitating to constantly defend yourself while remaining professional, and exhausting to become a representative for the entire community. One elevated pitch in your tone may verify a stereotype. And so for your own self-preservation, you learn to ignore it and not react. No matter the profession, we’re conditioned to be silent.

But as a patron, I do not have the same restraint. I always inform the manager. When I do, I’m sometimes offered a discount or a free round of drinks. I appreciate that, but still wonder: Did they hear me or were they just trying to appease me?

Because ignorant servers have tells. The finger across the neck, signaling that you do not want me in your section. The “couldn’t care less” attitude when greeting my table after making me wait for 10 minutes. The interactions with me in comparison to the white people next to me. We all have bad days as servers. But I am one of you, and I know the difference between a bad day and bad behavior. And so I’d ask you to recognize that your low tip is not a derivative of a guest’s skin color, but often, the result of your behavior toward them because of their skin color.

And to my fellow Black female servers, especially those in fine dining, remember you are worthy and your integrity is priceless. I am broke and tired too, but change is no longer a request — it is an ultimatum. Many servers are currently in a position of power; as restaurants try to reopen, employers are struggling to staff up. So before you literally risk your life by returning to work, make sure your professional environment is safe from health risks and racism.

To non-Black restaurant owners, I’d ask you to be introspective. Acknowledge that you benefit from a problematic system, and that your restaurant isn’t immune to racism. And if you still haven’t developed and posted a Black Lives Matter action plan of solidarity, do so. I am empathetic to the fact that you recently took a hit from COVID-19, but racism is also a deadly virus. You cannot plead for pandemic support by posting “We’re all in this together,” but choose to remain silent now. Diversify your staff. Schedule a mandatory team meeting to discuss racism and how to personally combat it — and explicitly state that it is immediate grounds for dismissal. If you have BIPOC staff, reassure them that they are protected and supported; keep in mind that you are legally liable when employees, and guests, engage in discriminatory practices. And remember: The Black dollar is strong. It is imperative that we are appreciated and welcomed at every place of business.

I gave similar recommendations to my most recent employer. As his marketing consultant, I urged him to write a statement of solidarity; as one of his servers, I demanded that my racist coworkers be fired, and a meeting be held to discuss racism at the restaurant. Yet again, my concerns were dismissed and overlooked. But this time, I am through being silent.

Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2ZLs4vY https://ift.tt/3eeV7NA

Alexandra Bowman

As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table

This is Eater Voices, where chefs, restaurateurs, writers, and industry insiders share their perspectives about the food world, tackling a range of topics through the lens of personal experience. First-time writer? Don’t worry, we’ll pair you with an editor to make sure your piece hits the mark. If you want to write an Eater Voices essay, please send us a couple paragraphs explaining what you want to write about and why you are the person to write it to [email protected].

A few weeks ago, I watched my tattoo artist, Doreen Garner, post an Instagram video about the racism in her industry, and saw Brianna Noble get up on her horse and demand change in the equestrian world. They inspired me to go on Facebook to address the racism where I work: the restaurant industry.

As I wrote in my Facebook post, the restaurant industry is extremely racist: Its racism is inseparable from the history of dining out in this country. Restaurants here flourished after the Civil War, a period when Black people in the hospitality sector were still technically working for free due to the widespread adoption of tipping, which allowed employers to avoid paying their workers. Racism literally shaped the restaurant landscape, too: Here on Long Island, where I live, the racist practice of redlining prevented Black restaurateurs from obtaining business loans or leasing buildings in particular towns — and thus denied them the same opportunities as their white counterparts.

The effects of such discrimination have been everlasting — something that I have learned firsthand as both a Black server and diner. In the six years I worked in restaurants, I never saw BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of color) in management, or even a Black bartender; most people of color were forced to remain in the back of house, or as bussers and runners in the front of house. And as a diner, I’ve seen how the industry’s culture of discrimination plays out from the other side of the table, too.

I began working in restaurants in 2009, while attending grad school. The first place I served was a corporate Southern-themed steakhouse on Long Island; not long after I started there, a coworker was fired for using racial slurs about a Black family who was dining with us. The restaurant’s owner individually apologized to every Black employee, and the swiftness of his actions assured me that racism would not be tolerated. The following year, I began my career in fine dining at a popular seafood restaurant on Manhasset Bay. The staff was mostly BIPOC, and included several Black females. This restaurant had its issues, but during the two years I worked there, diversity was not one of them.

But when I returned to the industry in 2018, after a six-year hiatus, I discovered that my previous experiences were anomalies. One evening, while I was training as a server at a farm-to-table restaurant, I asked the trainer how she made recommendations. “Well, they’re Asian, so I recommended the octopus because Asians eat weird food,” she said of the table we’d just served. “Excuse me?” I replied sternly. She tried to backpedal, saying something about how “Italian guys” also loved octopus.

Months later, I caught one of the managers and two servers discussing the treatment of Black people as it relates to our work ethic: The manager implied that there were times we were treated better than we deserved because of our skin color. The two servers looked shocked, but neither corrected her. Being the only Black employee and server of color, I quit immediately. But that evening, the restaurant’s owner and I had an honest conversation. She advised me to not let ignorant people affect my wallet, and she had a point: I was broke and living in my mom’s guest room. So I stayed. But, in hindsight, I should’ve demanded that this manager be fired. Although she was eventually let go, it was for her inferior management skills, not her continued racist antics.

Although the guests at that restaurant usually treated me with respect, I was degraded on several occasions. One evening, while I was recommending wine to a table, one of the diners, a white man, winked at me and said, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Am I right?” There was so much I wanted to say, especially to his wife, who just laughed nervously. Instead, I recommended the tempranillo and walked away. Who could I tell? If a manager wouldn’t be checked, how would a guest?

I stayed at the restaurant for a year and a half. Shortly before my departure, one of my customers, a senior citizen, grabbed me. “You know what they say about Black women?” he whispered in my ear. “You taste like chocolate.” He then attempted to kiss me. I pulled away, but I didn’t want to hurt him — I could already imagine the headline: “Black Server Abused Elderly White Man at Long Island Restaurant.” So again, I walked away. But this time, I cried in the hallway while my coworker consoled me. Others seemed to think I was overreacting, as if the customer had complimented me. I didn’t have the energy to point out that Black women are neither a fetish nor a fantasy, and that the sexual harassment we often experience is linked to the ways we’ve been hypersexualized throughout history.

Most recently, until the pandemic began, I was working as a server and marketing consultant at a new Long Island steakhouse. Three of my coworkers were equal-opportunity racists who made derogatory comments about everybody: from the Latinx staff members to a table of Black people, no one was off limits. Almost everyone who worked there was aware of it, but the attitude was one of “You know how this industry is.” One time, when I defended some guests whom one of these coworkers presumed were Jewish, he asked if I was a “Black Jew.” In response, I referenced “First they came...” and expressed that I stand up for everyone, and then politely told him to shut the hell up. He did, but continued to be openly racist towards me — the restaurant’s lone Black employee — and the Latinx bartender.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices.

While the restaurant’s clientele was generally kind, there were still the middle-aged white men thinking they were Tupac, telling me I was the prettiest Black girl they’d ever seen. And the white women who felt the need to be “down” when I approached the table. “Hey girl!” one of them told me. “Your makeup is on fleek. We’re trying to get lit.” Know that I am laughing at you, I thought. You sound like Len from 30 Rock. You are 45 years old in a Talbot’s pant suit. Please stop.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. It is debilitating to constantly defend yourself while remaining professional, and exhausting to become a representative for the entire community. One elevated pitch in your tone may verify a stereotype. And so for your own self-preservation, you learn to ignore it and not react. No matter the profession, we’re conditioned to be silent.

But as a patron, I do not have the same restraint. I always inform the manager. When I do, I’m sometimes offered a discount or a free round of drinks. I appreciate that, but still wonder: Did they hear me or were they just trying to appease me?

Because ignorant servers have tells. The finger across the neck, signaling that you do not want me in your section. The “couldn’t care less” attitude when greeting my table after making me wait for 10 minutes. The interactions with me in comparison to the white people next to me. We all have bad days as servers. But I am one of you, and I know the difference between a bad day and bad behavior. And so I’d ask you to recognize that your low tip is not a derivative of a guest’s skin color, but often, the result of your behavior toward them because of their skin color.

And to my fellow Black female servers, especially those in fine dining, remember you are worthy and your integrity is priceless. I am broke and tired too, but change is no longer a request — it is an ultimatum. Many servers are currently in a position of power; as restaurants try to reopen, employers are struggling to staff up. So before you literally risk your life by returning to work, make sure your professional environment is safe from health risks and racism.

To non-Black restaurant owners, I’d ask you to be introspective. Acknowledge that you benefit from a problematic system, and that your restaurant isn’t immune to racism. And if you still haven’t developed and posted a Black Lives Matter action plan of solidarity, do so. I am empathetic to the fact that you recently took a hit from COVID-19, but racism is also a deadly virus. You cannot plead for pandemic support by posting “We’re all in this together,” but choose to remain silent now. Diversify your staff. Schedule a mandatory team meeting to discuss racism and how to personally combat it — and explicitly state that it is immediate grounds for dismissal. If you have BIPOC staff, reassure them that they are protected and supported; keep in mind that you are legally liable when employees, and guests, engage in discriminatory practices. And remember: The Black dollar is strong. It is imperative that we are appreciated and welcomed at every place of business.

I gave similar recommendations to my most recent employer. As his marketing consultant, I urged him to write a statement of solidarity; as one of his servers, I demanded that my racist coworkers be fired, and a meeting be held to discuss racism at the restaurant. Yet again, my concerns were dismissed and overlooked. But this time, I am through being silent.

Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2ZLs4vY via Blogger https://ift.tt/2ZcBvFu

I’m Through Being Silent About the Restaurant Industry’s Racism added to Google Docs

I’m Through Being Silent About the Restaurant Industry’s Racism

 Alexandra Bowman

As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table

This is Eater Voices, where chefs, restaurateurs, writers, and industry insiders share their perspectives about the food world, tackling a range of topics through the lens of personal experience. First-time writer? Don’t worry, we’ll pair you with an editor to make sure your piece hits the mark. If you want to write an Eater Voices essay, please send us a couple paragraphs explaining what you want to write about and why you are the person to write it to [email protected].

A few weeks ago, I watched my tattoo artist, Doreen Garner, post an Instagram video about the racism in her industry, and saw Brianna Noble get up on her horse and demand change in the equestrian world. They inspired me to go on Facebook to address the racism where I work: the restaurant industry.

As I wrote in my Facebook post, the restaurant industry is extremely racist: Its racism is inseparable from the history of dining out in this country. Restaurants here flourished after the Civil War, a period when Black people in the hospitality sector were still technically working for free due to the widespread adoption of tipping, which allowed employers to avoid paying their workers. Racism literally shaped the restaurant landscape, too: Here on Long Island, where I live, the racist practice of redlining prevented Black restaurateurs from obtaining business loans or leasing buildings in particular towns — and thus denied them the same opportunities as their white counterparts.

The effects of such discrimination have been everlasting — something that I have learned firsthand as both a Black server and diner. In the six years I worked in restaurants, I never saw BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of color) in management, or even a Black bartender; most people of color were forced to remain in the back of house, or as bussers and runners in the front of house. And as a diner, I’ve seen how the industry’s culture of discrimination plays out from the other side of the table, too.

I began working in restaurants in 2009, while attending grad school. The first place I served was a corporate Southern-themed steakhouse on Long Island; not long after I started there, a coworker was fired for using racial slurs about a Black family who was dining with us. The restaurant’s owner individually apologized to every Black employee, and the swiftness of his actions assured me that racism would not be tolerated. The following year, I began my career in fine dining at a popular seafood restaurant on Manhasset Bay. The staff was mostly BIPOC, and included several Black females. This restaurant had its issues, but during the two years I worked there, diversity was not one of them.

But when I returned to the industry in 2018, after a six-year hiatus, I discovered that my previous experiences were anomalies. One evening, while I was training as a server at a farm-to-table restaurant, I asked the trainer how she made recommendations. “Well, they’re Asian, so I recommended the octopus because Asians eat weird food,” she said of the table we’d just served. “Excuse me?” I replied sternly. She tried to backpedal, saying something about how “Italian guys” also loved octopus.

Months later, I caught one of the managers and two servers discussing the treatment of Black people as it relates to our work ethic: The manager implied that there were times we were treated better than we deserved because of our skin color. The two servers looked shocked, but neither corrected her. Being the only Black employee and server of color, I quit immediately. But that evening, the restaurant’s owner and I had an honest conversation. She advised me to not let ignorant people affect my wallet, and she had a point: I was broke and living in my mom’s guest room. So I stayed. But, in hindsight, I should’ve demanded that this manager be fired. Although she was eventually let go, it was for her inferior management skills, not her continued racist antics.

Although the guests at that restaurant usually treated me with respect, I was degraded on several occasions. One evening, while I was recommending wine to a table, one of the diners, a white man, winked at me and said, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Am I right?” There was so much I wanted to say, especially to his wife, who just laughed nervously. Instead, I recommended the tempranillo and walked away. Who could I tell? If a manager wouldn’t be checked, how would a guest?

I stayed at the restaurant for a year and a half. Shortly before my departure, one of my customers, a senior citizen, grabbed me. “You know what they say about Black women?” he whispered in my ear. “You taste like chocolate.” He then attempted to kiss me. I pulled away, but I didn’t want to hurt him — I could already imagine the headline: “Black Server Abused Elderly White Man at Long Island Restaurant.” So again, I walked away. But this time, I cried in the hallway while my coworker consoled me. Others seemed to think I was overreacting, as if the customer had complimented me. I didn’t have the energy to point out that Black women are neither a fetish nor a fantasy, and that the sexual harassment we often experience is linked to the ways we’ve been hypersexualized throughout history.

Most recently, until the pandemic began, I was working as a server and marketing consultant at a new Long Island steakhouse. Three of my coworkers were equal-opportunity racists who made derogatory comments about everybody: from the Latinx staff members to a table of Black people, no one was off limits. Almost everyone who worked there was aware of it, but the attitude was one of “You know how this industry is.” One time, when I defended some guests whom one of these coworkers presumed were Jewish, he asked if I was a “Black Jew.” In response, I referenced “First they came...” and expressed that I stand up for everyone, and then politely told him to shut the hell up. He did, but continued to be openly racist towards me — the restaurant’s lone Black employee — and the Latinx bartender.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices.

While the restaurant’s clientele was generally kind, there were still the middle-aged white men thinking they were Tupac, telling me I was the prettiest Black girl they’d ever seen. And the white women who felt the need to be “down” when I approached the table. “Hey girl!” one of them told me. “Your makeup is on fleek. We’re trying to get lit.” Know that I am laughing at you, I thought. You sound like Len from 30 Rock. You are 45 years old in a Talbot’s pant suit. Please stop.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. It is debilitating to constantly defend yourself while remaining professional, and exhausting to become a representative for the entire community. One elevated pitch in your tone may verify a stereotype. And so for your own self-preservation, you learn to ignore it and not react. No matter the profession, we’re conditioned to be silent.

But as a patron, I do not have the same restraint. I always inform the manager. When I do, I’m sometimes offered a discount or a free round of drinks. I appreciate that, but still wonder: Did they hear me or were they just trying to appease me?

Because ignorant servers have tells. The finger across the neck, signaling that you do not want me in your section. The “couldn’t care less” attitude when greeting my table after making me wait for 10 minutes. The interactions with me in comparison to the white people next to me. We all have bad days as servers. But I am one of you, and I know the difference between a bad day and bad behavior. And so I’d ask you to recognize that your low tip is not a derivative of a guest’s skin color, but often, the result of your behavior toward them because of their skin color.

And to my fellow Black female servers, especially those in fine dining, remember you are worthy and your integrity is priceless. I am broke and tired too, but change is no longer a request — it is an ultimatum. Many servers are currently in a position of power; as restaurants try to reopen, employers are struggling to staff up. So before you literally risk your life by returning to work, make sure your professional environment is safe from health risks and racism.

To non-Black restaurant owners, I’d ask you to be introspective. Acknowledge that you benefit from a problematic system, and that your restaurant isn’t immune to racism. And if you still haven’t developed and posted a Black Lives Matter action plan of solidarity, do so. I am empathetic to the fact that you recently took a hit from COVID-19, but racism is also a deadly virus. You cannot plead for pandemic support by posting “We’re all in this together,” but choose to remain silent now. Diversify your staff. Schedule a mandatory team meeting to discuss racism and how to personally combat it — and explicitly state that it is immediate grounds for dismissal. If you have BIPOC staff, reassure them that they are protected and supported; keep in mind that you are legally liable when employees, and guests, engage in discriminatory practices. And remember: The Black dollar is strong. It is imperative that we are appreciated and welcomed at every place of business.

I gave similar recommendations to my most recent employer. As his marketing consultant, I urged him to write a statement of solidarity; as one of his servers, I demanded that my racist coworkers be fired, and a meeting be held to discuss racism at the restaurant. Yet again, my concerns were dismissed and overlooked. But this time, I am through being silent.

Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors.

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/7/8/21316151/restaurant-industry-racism-as-a-black-server-and-diner

Created July 9, 2020 at 03:26AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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New Post has been published on http://inspirationist.net/inspirationist-exclusive-interview-with-tal-danai-founder-of-artlink/

Inspirationist exclusive: Interview with Tal Danai, Founder of ArtLink

Tal Danai, who holds academic degrees in fine art, maritime commerce and law, alongside the rank of Sensei in Kyokushin Karate, has served during his career as the Director of International Marketing for Cybra Corporation and in 1989 assumed the position of Director of International Operations for the Commodity Spot Shipping Division of the Brazilian conglomerate SATRO. In 1993, he founded EcoLink, which restructured failing small businesses into highly profitable enterprises.

Danai founded ArtLink in 1996. Less than a year later, he pioneered the company’s partnership with Sotheby’s auction house to form ArtLink@Sotheby’s International Young Art Program, aspiring to introduce a new segment of emerging art into the global art market in a programme deemed by CNN as “the most exciting development in the art market in decades.”

In 2002, Danai introduced ArtLink as a group of expert art curators and consultants, supported by experienced art project managers, expert art purchasers and logistics professionals, to the hospitality industry. Since then, the company has curated and provided art collections for over 125 hospitality projects spanning 32 countries, including the Jing An Shangri-La Shanghai, the Four Seasons Resort DIFC Dubai, the Ritz-Carlton Herzliya, The Plaza Hotel in New York City, the Waldorf Astoria in Chengdu, the St. Regis in Cairo and the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park in London.

In 2014, ArtLink completed the art collection for Holland America Line’s MS Koningsdam, working in close collaboration with interior design practice, Tihany Design. The project’s success led to invitations to develop collections for both the ultra-luxury Seabourn Encore and Ovation ships, again with Tihany Design, as well as for Holland America’s Nieuw Statendam, which has just been completed. This is the first of a number of the Line’s ships destined to offer a new on-board gallery experience looking to engage guests more fully with the art. ArtLink is currently also curating art collections for Costa Smeralda and the Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection super yachts as well as for several luxury hotels around the world.

We caught up with Mr. Danai and quizzed him on his mixed background, on why art’s function surpasses simple decoration and how he’s making the art of our time available, accessible and affordable to the world.

I strongly believe that art’s function far surpasses simple decoration.

INSPIRATIONIST: What’s your background?

Tal Danai: My background is somewhat mixed: I completed three degrees in Art, Business and Law, and have worked in and owned businesses spanning a wide range of industries. However, as I look back on it all, I notice that there are four elements that can be found in most of what I’ve chosen to pursue professionally: an international outlook, pioneering attitude, entrepreneurial drive and adventurous spirit.

I: How did you fall in love with art and why?

T.D.: My mother was an artist, in fact, she still is. It was always a key part of my life growing up and my love for it has never wavered. So, when I had to choose between joining my father’s legal practice and taking the risky and unclear artistic path, it was inevitable that I would pick the latter. Back then, I had no idea that I would end up concentrating on the business side of the Arts, but one day a challenge that was too exciting to pass up presented itself and I followed it.

Art provides us with different ways in which we can approach our lives, view our realities and access our inner selves. It is part of our complex mechanism of self-awareness and is vital to wellbeing.

I: What lead you to the founding of ArtLink?

T.D.: A belief that I could change a world that had no market place supporting access to young and emerging art and artists.

I: What is your favourite part of your job?

T.D.: The ability to turn creative ideas into realities.

I: Where do you spend most of your time, and what does a typical day for you entail?

T.D.: ArtLink is a hub of creative people, seriously dedicated to what they do. Right now, we are curating collections for five major cruise ships and five luxury hotels, in addition to developing and running galleries on board 14 ships. Our projects are spread around the globe and executing them means coordinating with hundreds of artists, artisans and suppliers, working together to create exciting and engaging collections that take those who experience them on a journey.

I spend my time removing obstacles, managing relationships, keeping the big picture clear, developing new ideas and sharing my creative fervor with the team.

I: Can you describe an evolution in your work from when you began until today?

T.D.: So much has changed that it is hard to list it all. One major change is the birth of the young and emerging segment of the art market, which was ArtLink’s initial drive and that today represents the sale of nine out of every 10 artworks globally. That change has dramatically influenced the type of art exhibited and sold, its relevance to many more people worldwide, the pricing logic of art and a host of other impacts.

I find art in a hospitality project to be part of the design, the culture, the history and the overall sensitivities that the project entails.

I: You spoke at Maison&Objet this past September on the topic of “Art in Hotels: Part of the Design Story or Mere Decoration?“. Could you summarize in a few words the conclusions of your talk? The answer to the question?

T.D.: I strongly believe that art’s function far surpasses simple decoration. Art provides us with different ways in which we can approach our lives, view our realities and access our inner selves. It is part of our complex mechanism of self-awareness and is vital to wellbeing.

This is something that we at ArtLink bear in mind whenever we approach a project. We invest great effort in researching a project, working to understand its heart and creating a visual narrative that leads guests to it.

In short, I find art in a hospitality project to be part of the design, the culture, the history and the overall sensitivities that the project entails. If it also contributes a decorative layer, that’s a nice bonus.

I: Tell us a bit about ArtLink’s newest venture: introducing the world’s largest emerging art gallery aboard Holland America Line’s cruise ships. What is the aim of it?

T.D.: ArtLink’s defining mission is “making the art of our time available, accessible and affordable to the world”. To be true to our calling, I measure every business decision by that rule. The opportunity to introduce over a million passengers who travel with the Holland America Line ships to emerging art, artists and artisans who work out of the destinations visited by the ships, is a wonderful new development of our mission.

The art in the galleries on the ships is complemented by artists in residence, who will come and work on board; studio visits at points of call on the ships’ routes; and a whole host of enriching activities that are designed to immerse people in the art of our time and that enable a unique cultural exchange.

I love the craft side of art and an honest search for expression.

I: Which is your favourite work of art?

T.D.: I do not have a favourite work or artist. I love the craft side of art and an honest search for expression, and I deeply appreciate encountering alternative ways to reflect on what I hold as truth.

I: How do you unwind?

T.D.: I don’t!

I: What kind of music are you listening to at the moment?

T.D.: Mainly 18th and 19th century classical music.

I: What i s your favourite colour?

T.D.: Deep, dark grey.

Alexandra Bowman As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table This is Eater Voices, where chefs, restaurateurs, writers, and industry insiders share their perspectives about the food world, tackling a range of topics through the lens of personal experience. First-time writer? Don’t worry, we’ll pair you with an editor to make sure your piece hits the mark. If you want to write an Eater Voices essay, please send us a couple paragraphs explaining what you want to write about and why you are the person to write it to [email protected]. A few weeks ago, I watched my tattoo artist, Doreen Garner, post an Instagram video about the racism in her industry, and saw Brianna Noble get up on her horse and demand change in the equestrian world. They inspired me to go on Facebook to address the racism where I work: the restaurant industry. As I wrote in my Facebook post, the restaurant industry is extremely racist: Its racism is inseparable from the history of dining out in this country. Restaurants here flourished after the Civil War, a period when Black people in the hospitality sector were still technically working for free due to the widespread adoption of tipping, which allowed employers to avoid paying their workers. Racism literally shaped the restaurant landscape, too: Here on Long Island, where I live, the racist practice of redlining prevented Black restaurateurs from obtaining business loans or leasing buildings in particular towns — and thus denied them the same opportunities as their white counterparts. The effects of such discrimination have been everlasting — something that I have learned firsthand as both a Black server and diner. In the six years I worked in restaurants, I never saw BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of color) in management, or even a Black bartender; most people of color were forced to remain in the back of house, or as bussers and runners in the front of house. And as a diner, I’ve seen how the industry’s culture of discrimination plays out from the other side of the table, too. I began working in restaurants in 2009, while attending grad school. The first place I served was a corporate Southern-themed steakhouse on Long Island; not long after I started there, a coworker was fired for using racial slurs about a Black family who was dining with us. The restaurant’s owner individually apologized to every Black employee, and the swiftness of his actions assured me that racism would not be tolerated. The following year, I began my career in fine dining at a popular seafood restaurant on Manhasset Bay. The staff was mostly BIPOC, and included several Black females. This restaurant had its issues, but during the two years I worked there, diversity was not one of them. But when I returned to the industry in 2018, after a six-year hiatus, I discovered that my previous experiences were anomalies. One evening, while I was training as a server at a farm-to-table restaurant, I asked the trainer how she made recommendations. “Well, they’re Asian, so I recommended the octopus because Asians eat weird food,” she said of the table we’d just served. “Excuse me?” I replied sternly. She tried to backpedal, saying something about how “Italian guys” also loved octopus. Months later, I caught one of the managers and two servers discussing the treatment of Black people as it relates to our work ethic: The manager implied that there were times we were treated better than we deserved because of our skin color. The two servers looked shocked, but neither corrected her. Being the only Black employee and server of color, I quit immediately. But that evening, the restaurant’s owner and I had an honest conversation. She advised me to not let ignorant people affect my wallet, and she had a point: I was broke and living in my mom’s guest room. So I stayed. But, in hindsight, I should’ve demanded that this manager be fired. Although she was eventually let go, it was for her inferior management skills, not her continued racist antics. Although the guests at that restaurant usually treated me with respect, I was degraded on several occasions. One evening, while I was recommending wine to a table, one of the diners, a white man, winked at me and said, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Am I right?” There was so much I wanted to say, especially to his wife, who just laughed nervously. Instead, I recommended the tempranillo and walked away. Who could I tell? If a manager wouldn’t be checked, how would a guest? I stayed at the restaurant for a year and a half. Shortly before my departure, one of my customers, a senior citizen, grabbed me. “You know what they say about Black women?” he whispered in my ear. “You taste like chocolate.” He then attempted to kiss me. I pulled away, but I didn’t want to hurt him — I could already imagine the headline: “Black Server Abused Elderly White Man at Long Island Restaurant.” So again, I walked away. But this time, I cried in the hallway while my coworker consoled me. Others seemed to think I was overreacting, as if the customer had complimented me. I didn’t have the energy to point out that Black women are neither a fetish nor a fantasy, and that the sexual harassment we often experience is linked to the ways we’ve been hypersexualized throughout history. Most recently, until the pandemic began, I was working as a server and marketing consultant at a new Long Island steakhouse. Three of my coworkers were equal-opportunity racists who made derogatory comments about everybody: from the Latinx staff members to a table of Black people, no one was off limits. Almost everyone who worked there was aware of it, but the attitude was one of “You know how this industry is.” One time, when I defended some guests whom one of these coworkers presumed were Jewish, he asked if I was a “Black Jew.” In response, I referenced “First they came...” and expressed that I stand up for everyone, and then politely told him to shut the hell up. He did, but continued to be openly racist towards me — the restaurant’s lone Black employee — and the Latinx bartender. When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. While the restaurant’s clientele was generally kind, there were still the middle-aged white men thinking they were Tupac, telling me I was the prettiest Black girl they’d ever seen. And the white women who felt the need to be “down” when I approached the table. “Hey girl!” one of them told me. “Your makeup is on fleek. We’re trying to get lit.” Know that I am laughing at you, I thought. You sound like Len from 30 Rock. You are 45 years old in a Talbot’s pant suit. Please stop. When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. It is debilitating to constantly defend yourself while remaining professional, and exhausting to become a representative for the entire community. One elevated pitch in your tone may verify a stereotype. And so for your own self-preservation, you learn to ignore it and not react. No matter the profession, we’re conditioned to be silent. But as a patron, I do not have the same restraint. I always inform the manager. When I do, I’m sometimes offered a discount or a free round of drinks. I appreciate that, but still wonder: Did they hear me or were they just trying to appease me? Because ignorant servers have tells. The finger across the neck, signaling that you do not want me in your section. The “couldn’t care less” attitude when greeting my table after making me wait for 10 minutes. The interactions with me in comparison to the white people next to me. We all have bad days as servers. But I am one of you, and I know the difference between a bad day and bad behavior. And so I’d ask you to recognize that your low tip is not a derivative of a guest’s skin color, but often, the result of your behavior toward them because of their skin color. And to my fellow Black female servers, especially those in fine dining, remember you are worthy and your integrity is priceless. I am broke and tired too, but change is no longer a request — it is an ultimatum. Many servers are currently in a position of power; as restaurants try to reopen, employers are struggling to staff up. So before you literally risk your life by returning to work, make sure your professional environment is safe from health risks and racism. To non-Black restaurant owners, I’d ask you to be introspective. Acknowledge that you benefit from a problematic system, and that your restaurant isn’t immune to racism. And if you still haven’t developed and posted a Black Lives Matter action plan of solidarity, do so. I am empathetic to the fact that you recently took a hit from COVID-19, but racism is also a deadly virus. You cannot plead for pandemic support by posting “We’re all in this together,” but choose to remain silent now. Diversify your staff. Schedule a mandatory team meeting to discuss racism and how to personally combat it — and explicitly state that it is immediate grounds for dismissal. If you have BIPOC staff, reassure them that they are protected and supported; keep in mind that you are legally liable when employees, and guests, engage in discriminatory practices. And remember: The Black dollar is strong. It is imperative that we are appreciated and welcomed at every place of business. I gave similar recommendations to my most recent employer. As his marketing consultant, I urged him to write a statement of solidarity; as one of his servers, I demanded that my racist coworkers be fired, and a meeting be held to discuss racism at the restaurant. Yet again, my concerns were dismissed and overlooked. But this time, I am through being silent. Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors. from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2ZLs4vY

http://easyfoodnetwork.blogspot.com/2020/07/im-through-being-silent-about.html