The Day in the Kitchen, I Realized Leadership Means More Than Being in Charge

That Day in the Kitchen, I Realized Leadership Means More Than Being in Charge

One quiet moment between orders changed how I see teams, responsibility, and myself.

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I was standing by the pass.

One hand on the plate, one eye on the garnishes.

The kitchen was moving — not loud, not slow, just… tense.

There wasn’t a single word out of place. But I could feel it.

The way you feel humidity before the rain.

That strange pressure in the air when something is off — even if no one says it.

I’ve led kitchens in more than ten countries: Italy, Indonesia, Dubai, the Maldives, even cruise ships slicing across the Pacific.

Some days I cooked for six-star guests.

Other days, I found myself improvising lunch for a team of 80 workers during a hotel preopening in remote Indonesia.

Pressure doesn’t scare me. But disconnection does.

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Because when a team loses connection — it loses everything.

Quality, precision, joy… they all start to slip, quietly.

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The shift I felt that day didn’t come from the food.

It came from the people.

And something inside me said:

“If you don’t say something now, this kitchen will survive… but it won’t grow.”

So I looked around.

And instead of giving an order, I asked a question:

“Is everything okay today?”

It wasn’t dramatic.

No one cried.

But someone looked at me like I’d just opened a window.

That’s when I realized:

Leadership isn’t about control.

It’s about creating safety.

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I used to think being a great chef meant being the best at everything.

Fastest. Smartest. Strongest under pressure.

Now I know better.

A great chef doesn’t just lead the food —

he leads the people who make the food possible.

And people don’t follow perfection.

They follow clarity.

They follow empathy.

They follow presence.

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Over the years, I’ve learned to recognize certain signs.

Not dramatic ones — not shouting or slamming pans.

The quiet ones. The signs that a team is hurting.

That a workplace, no matter how polished on the outside, is struggling on the inside.

Here are five of those signs. And what I try to do about them.

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1. People talk about each other, not to each other.

You hear the whispers.

You see the glances.

Trust has left the room.

What I do:

I bring things to the table — literally.

Direct talk. Eye contact.

Not to attack.

But to remind everyone: we’re in this together.

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2. Feedback feels like a weapon.

Someone makes a mistake. The air freezes.

No one learns — they just protect themselves.

What I do:

I offer feedback the way I’d like to receive it.

Clear, specific, respectful.

And I ask for it, too — in front of the team.

Because if I can grow, so can they.

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3. The team moves, but the energy is gone.

Tasks are done. But there’s no spark.

Just survival.

What I do:

I bring lightness.

A story. A joke. A thank you.

Work is serious — but people need to breathe.

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4. Mistakes are treated like crimes.

People hide. They cover. They stay silent.

No one wants to take the lead.

What I do:

I say, “That was on me.”

Even when it wasn’t fully.

Because responsibility creates safety. And safety creates leaders.

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5. Exhaustion is treated like a badge of honor.

Long hours become competition.

“I haven’t eaten all day.” “I slept three hours.”

But burned-out chefs don’t build strong kitchens.

What I do:

I normalize rest.

I talk about sleep. Hydration. Silence.

Balance isn’t weakness.

It’s the only way to sustain greatness.

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Healing starts small.

With one sentence.

One pause.

One person.

You don’t need a title to lead.

You don’t need permission to care.

You just need to notice. To ask. To act.

That day in the kitchen, I didn’t make a grand speech.

I just asked if everything was okay.

But something shifted.

And shift by shift, we became better — not just as cooks, but as people.

So wherever you are — in a restaurant, an office, a classroom, or a crew —

if something feels off, don’t wait.

Speak. Lead. Breathe.

Maybe the person who can change everything… is already standing by the pass.

Written from the heart — by someone who still believes the kitchen is one of the best places to learn about life.

Cristian Marino