Wrong Tray, Wrong Language — Right Lesson
How a chaotic night at Disneyland taught me one of the most powerful rules in the kitchen: Don’t take it personally.
There’s a moment that every chef experiences — sooner or later — when the feedback hits deeper than expected.
A dish is sent back.
A waiter rolls their eyes.
The F&B Manager points out something in front of everyone.
And suddenly, it doesn’t feel like they’re talking about the food anymore. It feels like they’re talking about you.
I’ve felt that sting more than once. And that’s why I eventually wrote this down as Rule #7 in my book 10 Rules of the Chef in the Modern Era:
Don’t take it personally.
I’ve felt that sting more than once.
In the early years of my career, I took everything personally. A small critique could ruin my entire shift. A misunderstood comment could sit with me for days. I thought being passionate meant being emotionally invested in every single detail — and I still believe that.
But there’s a crucial distinction: being passionate doesn’t mean being fragile.
In fact, if you want to grow in the kitchen — and especially if you want to lead — you have to develop something stronger than pride. You need perspective.
The Night I Took It Too Personally — Disneyland Paris, Winter Holidays
One of my earliest kitchen jobs was in Disneyland Paris, during the winter holidays. I was just a young commis, and I had been assigned to the Village area, in one of the resort’s most spectacular dinner experiences: the Wild West Show.
Every night, hundreds of guests would watch a show with live music, horses, saloons, lights and action — all while being served traditional American comfort food: ribs, roast meat, potatoes, and cornbread.
It was chaos, magic, and adrenaline in equal measure.
I had one task: to arrange the meat properly on those big, heavy trays — quickly, carefully, and in sync with the rhythm of the show.
Once ready, I’d hand the tray over to the waiter, who would then serve it to the guests.
But there was a problem: il mio francese era così così. I could understand basic instructions, but the real-life pressure of shouted commands, flashing lights, and pounding music made everything ten times harder.
That night, I misunderstood a supervisor’s order.
I prepared and passed the wrong tray to the wrong server — twice.
The supervisor snapped:
“Pas maintenant! Tu ne comprends rien ou quoi?!”
(Not now! You understand nothing, or what?!)
I froze. I felt the heat rising to my face, and not from the kitchen. Everyone around was moving fast, and I felt like I was the problem.
Like I didn’t belong.
I remember stepping backstage for a second, hiding behind a curtain, and thinking:
"Cristian, maybe this isn’t for you. Maybe you’re not good enough."
But something inside me said:
"Non è questione di orgoglio. È questione di volontà."
It’s not about pride — it’s about will.
In that moment, backstage with my hands still warm from the tray, I realized something I’ve carried with me ever since:
If you react with a hurt ego, you lose sight of the bigger picture.
But if you choose not to take it personally, you gain the power to grow.
So I took a breath, focused on what I could control, watched more than I spoke, and re-entered the service. I didn’t want applause. I wanted redemption.
That night, I made it through. And I learned something much more important than how to carry a tray:
Don’t take it personally.
Not every word is a wound. Sometimes, it’s just the kitchen speaking a language of urgency.
Kitchens Are Emotional Places — But You Don’t Have to Take It All In
The kitchen is one of the most emotionally intense environments I know.
Orders come in fast. Timings are tight. The energy is electric. And let’s be honest — people aren’t always kind when they’re under pressure. Even the best colleagues can snap.
And that’s where Rule #7 becomes essential: Don’t take it personally.
You’ll hear things like:
“What is this?”
“Are you blind?”
“I told you three times already!”
Sometimes it’s fair. Sometimes it’s not.
But the difference between a good chef and a great leader is how they choose to respond.
If you internalize every word, you burn out.
If you externalize every emotion, you break the team.
But if you learn to pause and assess — you rise.
Leadership Is Emotional Intelligence Under Fire
Being a chef isn’t just about skill — it’s about managing egos, tension, expectations, and chaos… all while keeping your integrity.
When you become a leader, people watch your reactions more than your recipes.
If a line cook forgets something and you explode, they won’t remember your words — they’ll remember how you made them feel.
If a manager gives you rough feedback and you sulk, your team learns that silence equals resentment.
But when you absorb pressure with calm, and address issues without ego, you teach your brigade something far more powerful than technique: emotional maturity.
You teach them that we are professionals.
That we can receive feedback without taking it as an attack.
That mistakes are not moral failures — they’re stepping stones.
It’s Not About You. It’s About the Standard.
Here’s something I remind myself — and my team — constantly:
The feedback isn’t about your value as a person. It’s about the outcome we’re trying to achieve together.
It’s not Cristian’s sauce. It’s the dish for the guest.
It’s not your plating. It’s the restaurant’s experience.
We are not our mistakes — we are how we respond to them.
And that shift in mindset changes everything.
It allows you to accept input without defensiveness.
It helps you see the bigger picture.
It gives you the strength to grow without breaking.
Final Thoughts: Protect Your Flame
As chefs, we burn with passion. But we must also protect that flame — not by shielding it from all wind, but by learning which gusts are just noise and which are signals for growth.
Don’t take it personally.
Take it seriously.
Take it professionally.
Take it as fuel.
And if you’ve ever been in a moment where a word, a look, or a mistake made you question your path —
just know this: you’re not the only one who’s ever felt that way.
But now, you have an alternative:
You can choose to breathe, stay, and respond with clarity.
Not because you’re indifferent.
But because you are a leader.
And the culinary world — especially today — needs chefs who know how to separate ego from value, criticism from failure, growth from judgment.
Keep leading with courage.
And remember: it’s not personal.
It’s just your next step toward becoming great.
Thank you for reading this week’s reflection from Chef & Leader. If this resonated with you, share it with someone who needs to hear it.
See you next week — for Rule #8: Use Your Creativity.
very motivating
wow ! very nice lesson