Commentary: Is the line between passion and overwork blurred in F&B?

CNA

11 hours ago

SINGAPORE: In a recent CNA interview, Dennis Lim, owner of The Emerald Bakery, reflects on his life's work. The 55-year-old baker endures "pain in every joint" throughout 15- or 16-hour shifts.
Though he says baking is about perseverance and endurance, he is clearly passionate about his craft. We see it in his hands, deformed by severe arthritis yet still shaping each loaf of bread. We hear it in his cheery optimism – despite losing mobility in two fingers on one hand, he quips that he can still use the other three.
His grit is undeniably moving, yet a quiet brutality underpins the clip. An employee describes how Mr Lim pushes through arthritis flare-ups; his wife recalls managing pregnancy alone while he was consumed by work.
It raises a difficult question: Have we normalised – and even glorified – extreme sacrifice in Singapore's food and beverage (F&B) industry? And at what cost?
THE CULT OF OVERWORK
There's no doubt that resilience is essential in a professional kitchen. However, when enduring hardship becomes the main measure of passion, it breeds a culture where overwork is expected and valorised.
When I worked as a cook in Singapore, a common refrain I heard was: 'Unless you physically can't get out of bed, you have to show up.' Anything less was seen as lacking commitment to the craft and your team.
Toxic work culture in F&B often becomes self-perpetuating. Victims of punishing conditions come to see hardship as essential and sometimes become enforcers – expecting newcomers to 'pay their dues' in the same gruelling way. This normalises overwork and discourages challenges to the status quo, turning passion into not just something that is admired, but actively exploited.
Marilyn Lee, owner of Wheathead Bakery, shared an encounter with a local restaurateur a few years ago, while she was interviewing for a job: 'When we got to discussing pay, he joked with me about how I 'don't need much because [I'm] passionate, right?''
In Australia, where I've also worked as a cook, stronger labour protections help curb overwork by limiting work hours to 38 hours per week, with mandatory breaks and paid overtime. Robust unions support these standards, promoting healthier work-life balance. This is in contrast to Singapore where many small food businesses lack similar legal protections or union support, leaving workers to navigate unfair conditions alone.
Labour laws, however, are only part of the picture. Even with protections in Australia, toxic attitudes can persist. While applying for jobs in Melbourne, I was once invited for a trial shift. When I clarified the expected hours and asked if it would be paid, the chef told me not to come in at all, claiming I lacked passion – despite the fact that unpaid trials are illegal in Australia. It was as though I had somehow sullied the craft by advocating for fair treatment.
HOW CONSUMER EXPECTATIONS FUEL OVERWORK
F&B workers generally operate under immense pressure, but this is especially acute in Singapore, with sky-high rents and fierce competition.
Consumers can also be complicit by expecting convenience, lightning-fast service, and rock-bottom prices – often without understanding what it takes to meet those expectations. These expectations force owners and workers to work longer hours with fewer resources just to keep up, perpetuating a cycle of overwork.
Ms Lee said, 'Admittedly, it's difficult because there are almost no margins in F&B … Rent and food costs are at an all-time high and these overheads would seem to F&B owners to be fixed costs. So one variable cost that owners would consider cutting would be labour cost, which puts employees at a disadvantage.'
While not all consumers can afford to pay more, the broader culture of undervaluing labour and having impossibly high standards remains a significant problem.
LONG-TERM IMPLICATIONS AND A WAY FORWARD
Romanticising overwork echoes the Japanese shokunin ethos – the craftsman who might spend a year sweeping the floor before being allowed to touch the rice. There is beauty in such devotion. For previous generations, long hours, perseverance and sacrifice were prized as signs of loyalty and character. But today, this mindset risks driving away new talent in Singapore's F&B scene, as many young workers refuse to burn out early.
Gen Z, especially, with its stronger emphasis on mental health and work-life balance, is increasingly unwilling to accept the grind mentality endemic in F&B. Recent reports show a trend of Gen Z workers avoiding F&B roles – a warning that the old virtue of 'chi ku', or 'swallowing bitterness', is losing its grip. Without reform, the industry faces a growing talent shortage as this generation rejects sacrificing well-being for their careers.
As a counter to overwork culture, some businesses are showing that change is possible. Take Candlenut, run by my former boss, Malcolm Lee. When he opened the restaurant in 2010, he endured long hours, sometimes even sleeping on-site just to keep things running. By 2016, the restaurant broke even and earned a Michelin star, but the success came at a steep personal cost, including the strain on his personal relationships.
Troubled by the emotional toll, Mr Lee restructured operations: Candlenut now offers a four-day workweek and guarantees staff a daily, uninterrupted meal break. His mindset shift reflects an emerging industry trend: Mental health matters, and productivity should not come at the expense of well-being.
At Wheathead, Ms Lee protects her employees from unfair expectations, emphasising that the bakery is a 'second home' for her team. On Wheathead's Instagram account, she wrote, 'We will not stand for rude or entitled behavior when anyone steps into our space.' In my interview with her, she explained that despite industry pressures, 'it is ultimately up to F&B businesses to do better by their employees.'
Meaningful change demands healthier work schedules, more realistic consumer expectations, and industry-wide support for mental health and fair labour standards. But equally important is reshaping the narrative around passion and reimagining what a good life looks like: One defined not solely by work – not even passionate work – but also by the other good things in life.
Since moving to the Netherlands, I've noticed a stark contrast in how people approach work, even when they deeply enjoy what they do. Many intentionally work fewer hours, often 30 a week, to preserve time for their families, hobbies and rest. This cultural norm of balance stands in sharp contrast to the Singaporean mindset, where work often defines identity and worth.
It shows that another way is possible: one where passion can coexist with well-being, and where fulfillment is found not just in what we do – but in how we live.