‘The Bear’ Is a Tribute to Dynamism–and What Blocks It

Lots of virtual ink has been spilled along those lines since the show debuted last year—and about the show’s incredible soundtrack. But for my money (and since this is technically a newsletter about economic policy), the show’s accuracy extends beyond just the kitchen scenes to the messy, meritocratic dynamism that is running an American restaurant—and many of the policies that make doing so harder than it already is.

(Note: Modest spoilers throughout.)

Culinary Chaos—and Mobility

To be sure, working at a restaurant isn’t all wine and roses: The hours can be long and erratic, starting pay can be low, the work can be grueling (physically and mentally), and the people—well, let’s just say not everyone in the biz is the ideal boss or co-worker. According to the Census Bureau, for example, before the pandemic, “About 75% of workers across all occupations had standard, daytime schedules, compared with 47% of food preparation and serving related workers.” As a result of these and other shortcomings, turnover is high—it’s most definitely not for everyone.

Owning a restaurant can be similarly challenging. Beyond the staff retention issues, competition is fierce; margins are low; both complacency and diner disinterest are ever-present threats; and restaurants’ performance is usually tied to local and national economic conditions that are—as we saw during the pandemic—beyond managers’ and workers’ control. These and other factors contribute to the industry’s well-publicized failure rate.

On the other hand, the industry brings many benefits for those willing to put in the work—and, importantly, regardless of their background. According to the Brookings Institution, for example, the U.S. food service industry has long been both a major entry point for non-college workers and among the industries in which “people gain the skills that enable them to climb the ladder in those sectors.” The industry also features a disproportionate share of minorities, women, immigrants, and ex-cons—many of whom also work their way up to leadership roles. Indeed, food service is commonly cited as among the handful of industries with “great potential” for upward mobility, and the National Restaurant Association estimates that about 90 percent of restaurant managers and 80 percent of owners started out in entry-level positions. As a result, numerous stories abound of chefs, mixologists, managers, owners, and other major players starting on the bottom rung and climbing, often quickly, their way to the top.

That mobility’s owed in part to the industry’s common prioritization of results over credentials – for restaurants and their staff. A nice (expensive) degree from culinary school can open some doors and hone some skills, but the real litmus test is talent, experience, and dedication (just ask these famous chefs). And, while starting and even median compensation often isn’t great, excellence pays off: Top performers—waiters, bartenders, chefs, etc.—can make surprisingly good money, even if they never went to college or end up on TV or a shiny cookbook cover.

Having some family in the biz, I’ve seen this all firsthand: a head waiter who started as a Spanish-only busboy, an award-winning sommelier who dropped out of college and learned wine while waiting tables at a suburban bar & grill, an owner who started as a host, and multiple food trucks that have become packed brick-and-mortar establishments. The work (and the livin’) was hard, and plenty of folks burned out, but for those who could hack it—even ones with sordid pasts or messy presents—the rewards were solid.

The Bear nails this dynamic. Carmy, the show’s protagonist, went from being an insecure, friendless slacker from a troubled home to a self-taught, James Beard award-winning head chef (“CDC”) at one of the country’s best restaurants just a few years later. His second (sous chef) is Sydney, an also-young—but classically trained—Nigerian-American woman living at home with her father after her catering business collapsed. Line cooks Tina and Ebraheim (“Ebra”) are both middle-aged immigrants who weathered the store’s initial chaos and were rewarded with trips to local culinary school (with mixed success). Pastry chef Marcus is another self-taught, impassioned star who was once a small-college linebacker before working at the phone company (and then McDonald’s). Cousin Richie is a foul-mouthed, directionless single dad who finds his hospitality calling after spending observing the inner workings of a Michelin-starred restaurant. Sister Natalie (“Sugar”) ditches her day job to become project manager (and bureaucratic navigator) for the restaurant’s rebuild. Even goofy friend Neil Fak becomes the in-house (probably unlicensed!) handyman—after being electrocuted a few times.

Surely, some of this meritocracy and development is Hollywood Magic—the likelihood of every Season 1 mainstay moving from the rundown Original Beef to its upscale Season 2 replacement is more than a little fantastical. But the overall theme and feel—a wildly diverse group of people advancing rapidly based on merit and desire—is as real as the show’s endless F‑bombs and smoke breaks. Walk into almost any independent American restaurant, and you’ll see the same. It’s quintessential American dynamism in all its Chaos Menu glory.

With the industry’s big rewards, of course, come similarly big risks: Many of the same forces that help a first-generation Mexican immigrant move from kitchen hand to head waiter and then owner undoubtedly also contribute to the aforementioned turnover and failure rate. Unfortunately, public policy can make success even harder—another thing The Bear gets (mostly) right.

How to Block a Business

A running joke about Season 2, in which the gang tries to open the Original Beef’s replacement in just three months’ time, is that the show’s as much about regulation as it is about restaurants. As the folks at Eater recently explained, that’s not really much of a joke:

Indeed it does (and, yes, it’s no surprise why I like the show even more now).

I don’t want to ruin the whole season for you, but this scene in the first episode gives you a good feel for what’s in store the rest of the way—and just how Kafkaesque and daunting the bureaucratic challenge will be:

Of everything standing in our heroes’ way—the menu, the construction, the staff, the personal stuff—it’s the government that’s their biggest and most omnipresent threat. The crew estimates (optimistically) that just “permits, the inspections, and the licenses” will cost them $10,000, but the bigger cost is time: In seemingly every scene inside the restaurant, their actual work is interrupted by a deflating mention of some new bureaucratic hurdle standing in their way. Here’s a couple more examples:

And on and on.

If anything, The Bear understates the regulatory challenges that aspiring restaurateurs face—especially in a place like Chicago. The aforementioned “ServSafe” stuff, for example, relates to a 2013 state law mandating that all paid staff be certified food handlers—which apparently Ebra and Richie need to be so they can give people sandwiches out a window—and be supervised by a certified food protection manager. That’s not unique to Illinois, but still requires hours of training, passage of a written exam, and as much as a couple hundred bucks in tuition costs, depending on the level at issue (manager versus food handler). Employ uncertified staff, and you get shut down.

More importantly, governments in Illinois and Chicago make it excessively difficult to start or do business. Arizona State University’s Doing Business North America report finds that the city ranks 42^rd overall (out of 83 surveyed American localities), 43^rd for starting a business, 56^th for employing workers, and a miserable 78^th for paying taxes. But that’s just for any business; starting a restaurant is far more complex:

The above diagram really doesn’t do justice to all the steps buried in here. The “initial consultation” (step 2), for example, is actually five steps, including paperwork, sanitation certification, and business registration. Zoning is, as you can imagine, another major ordeal—especially if it involves, as it does in The Bear, construction, booze, and outstanding debts (including traffic tickets!). Overall, Chicago’s “Restaurant Start-Up Guide” is 32 pages of rules, steps, and forms. If you mess up on one, your joint doesn’t open. And applicants can fail inspections not merely for lacking adequate equipment or sanitation, but if—for example—the exit door has “improper swing,” if construction plans aren’t stamped, if the restaurant layout doesn’t match the approved floor plan, or if you have the wrong kind of sink.

Yes, sink.

Believe it or not, this morass is actually the improved process—as my Cato colleague Chris Edwards documented in 2021 when examining how state and local regulations stifle American entrepreneurship:

Local taxes are even worse. According to the Tax Foundation, Illinois ranked 44^th (seventh-worst) in the nation in 2022 total tax burden and 36^th for the overall state business tax climate. (It was even worse in several key areas.) Chicago then kicks it up another notch: It has the country’s second-highest sales taxes and second-highest second highest commercial property taxes*:

(*The property in The Bear was valued at around $2 million.)

According to the Illinois Policy Institute, “Chicago’s 911 surcharge, wireless taxes, amusement tax, soft drink tax, bottled water tax, cigarette tax, parking tax, ride-sharing and home-sharing fees were among the highest among other large U.S. cities as recently as 2018.” Overall, it’s one of the most taxed cities in the country.

Tax and regulatory burdens have encouraged many large, cash-rich companies—Tyson Foods, Boeing, Caterpillar, and Citadel—to flee Chicago in recent years. Penny-pinching entrepreneurs don’t stand a chance.

As Edwards explains (and as The Bear shows), these costs—both money and time—not only inhibit business formation, but also have other unintended consequences. For example, research finds a strong connection between regulation and corruption: In short, as the number of inspections, licenses, and permits grows, so do the bribes (and the people asking for them). Chicago, of course, has a long and storied history of government corruption, and—as Edwards explains—it’s often linked to local bureaucracy:

Corruption is costly and unethical, but some studies show that it can actually facilitate entrepreneurship by “greasing the wheels” of the regulatory process—especially in places that have lots of bureaucracy. And we see exactly this in The Bear, as the team asks Uncle Jimmy—who may or may not be mobbed up (but probably is?)—to help them get one particularly troublesome permit.

Thanks to Jimmy’s help and a few other last-second saves, the new restaurant opens in the nick of time. That outcome makes for entertaining TV, but—as many budding entrepreneurs unfortunately know all too well—it’s probably one of the show’s least accurate parts.

Chart(s) of the Week

Pay and productivity still growing together:

The “App economy” exceeded $1 trillion—for Apple alone

Youth unemployment in China is now higher than in France and Italy

Sun Belt wins again: