I assume one becomes a chef because they have a love for cooking and food and the artistry involved, but I can’t think of anything more eroding to that love of the craft than the kind of working day I see chefs and other kitchen staff go through. It seems to an outsider like me that it’s basically a shift-length panic attack, every day. But that can’t be the case, or no one would do the job!
You just described literal hell.
Oh it is. But there’s drugs and trauma-bonding, so that helps. Plus, it pays a few more bucks than minimum wage.
It also conveys a permanent +10 bonus to your rizz so you can sleep with the slutty front of house.
Somewhere between the borders of desperation and total burnout there is a sweet spot where you realize you are performing at a higher level than you ever have, higher than most ever will, and the satisfaction compensates for the lack of pay and the life destroying vices you need to employ in order to cope with the constant stress.
Good times.