Гостеприимство Гернси: признание заслуг мигрантов, обеспечивающих туристический сезон

How can you tell that it is summer in Guernsey? Is it by weaving through families along the sands of Cobo Bay, or instead through the bustling market stalls at Seafront Sunday? Is it the scorching temperatures of this past June and July, or perhaps regular visits from cruise ships? Summer is likely all of these, but what is often less cited is how much the hospitality industry has to prepare for it. One quick sweep through the High Street on a Saturday summer evening is highly telling of how dependent Guernsey is on a lively, responsive, and diverse offerings of cafes, bars, restaurants, and hotels. Its very image is buttressed by luxurious dining settings, picturesque sea views, and quaint relaxing environs from sunrise to sunset and into the night. Guernsey is fantastic at fostering a pristine atmosphere with which to cater to locals and tourists. This idyll, however, is constituted by far more than just customers and its gorgeous surroundings. Who is it that perfects your morning flat white? Who prepares your light lunch bite or your exquisite seafood catch? How did the floors become so clean, the glasses so polished, and the beds so well-made? In all, what often goes unnoticed? The labour, and the people that comprise it. From coast to coast, I have formed part of and witnessed a labour force with unparalleled experience that has endured sacrifices, brutally long shifts, and complex customer requests at all scales. For me, working across roles in waiting, kitchen portering, and housekeeping, and attending to royal visits, weddings, and corporate events has been deeply rewarding. However, it is imperative that I highlight the inimitable service of my colleagues that make both these roles and events so special. Having worked in hospitality myself since the age of 14 across a range of establishments and job positions, I wish to advocate for those who seldom receive the recognition they deserve to keep Guernsey economically, socially, and culturally afloat. In so doing, I also seek to raise more awareness of the importance of kindness and consideration for my fellow colleagues across the island who work literally day and night catering to the offerings that we too often take for granted. Involving myself within the hospitality industry has been highly rewarding for numerous reasons, many of which refute the narrative that it is just ‘easy shift work’. For instance, while the delivery of a typical evening meal for two may seem a simple transaction, I have observed the insurmountable preparation and calculation necessary for it to be materialised. At your next celebration, take a few seconds to mentally deconstruct your plate of food. How have the various ingredients been cooked? How did the cutlery become so polished? How did the white wine you ordered arrive so quickly from the hundreds of choices you had from the wine list? More than 10 seconds of analysis will reveal that it is not, in fact, just taking orders and putting the requested food down on the table, but instead a carefully calculated set of decisions undergirded by hours of labour, both before you have woken up and after you have slept, and a fine attention to detail and precision that I have never experienced in other non-hospitality roles. Involving myself within these seemingly never-ending cycles of meticulous preparation and planning has sharpened my own skillset that I owe to the hospitality industry wholeheartedly. However, it is necessary to turn attention to not just the tasks required, but the people engaging in this social reproduction that is so often outsourced. My colleagues – whether that be housekeepers, chefs, waiters, kitchen porters, receptionists – are some of the most incredible people that I have met. They are without doubt the most hard-working, caring, and intelligent colleagues I have had the pleasure of knowing and working with. And, without coincidence, many are not Guernsey-born. The recognition that one of the most intensive and highly demanded sectors in Guernsey is led fervently by many that are not from Guernsey (and will likely leave not out of choice) is one we cannot ignore. What does it mean for Guernsey when we realise that our luxurious and diverse restaurant and cafe openings are undergirded by migrant labour? It means we must appreciate it, and properly. The long days. The perfected English. The family sacrifices. The temporary nature of their visa. These are all aspects that we must recognise as part and parcel of a way of life we too often take for granted. I have heard countless stories of concessions, comforted overworked colleagues, and defended their right to free time and leisure away from work. Without this labour, and the people to support it, Guernsey as we know it would look and feel like a very different place. So, the next time you’re served, take into consideration the complex stories and decisions that have led to your intricately crafted meal. Reflect on what the atmosphere of either the west or east coast would be without you and your friends’ go-to drinks spot. Acknowledge that your social evening is likely your server’s ninth or 10th hour into their shift, and that your dinner means theirs is delayed. Picture your favourite coffee shop without the early mornings and weekends it’s open, or without the warm welcome you receive. It wouldn’t be quite the same, would it? And most importantly, say thank you, meaningfully. Guernsey boasts such a lively hospitality industry, and we are incredibly lucky to be its patrons. Who knows what it would be like without it? Bill Nicholson