So, you’re thinking about what a Food and Beverage Manager actually does, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s not just swanning around, tasting fancy dishes and schmoozing with guests. Not even close. Most folks see the shiny surface, the smooth service in a restaurant or a big hotel, and think there’s some well-oiled machine humming perfectly. The truth? It’s often one person, the F&B Manager, juggling a dozen flaming torches while riding a unicycle on a tightrope.
My Crash Course in F&B Management
I kinda fell into the deep end with this stuff. Wasn’t my grand plan, you know? I was working as a supervisor at this decent-sized hotel, thought I had a grip on things. Then, our F&B manager, a guy named Dave, just up and vanished. Poof. One Monday morning, his office was empty, a resignation letter on the desk that basically said “I’m out.” The GM, bless his panicked heart, looked at me and said, “You’re it. For now.” “For now” turned into six chaotic months.
Suddenly, it wasn’t just about making sure dinner service ran okay. Oh no. My world exploded. Here’s a taste of what landed on my plate, literally and figuratively:
- Inventory, Inventory, Inventory: First thing that hit me. We were hemorrhaging money on wasted food and overstocked booze. So, I started by spending hours, and I mean HOURS, in the storerooms and fridges. Counting every bottle, every sack of potatoes. Trying to figure out what we actually used versus what Dave just liked to order. It was a nightmare of spreadsheets and clipboards. I had to get a system going, fast, for ordering, receiving, and tracking every single item.
- Staffing Shenanigans: You think finding good staff is easy? Try keeping them. I was suddenly in charge of hiring, firing (that was awful), training, and scheduling for the restaurant, bar, room service, and even the little coffee kiosk. Someone calls in sick? Guess who’s covering or scrambling to find a replacement. I learned more about human drama in those six months than in a lifetime of watching soap operas. Making rosters that didn’t make everyone hate me was an art form I never mastered.
- Menu Madness: Then there was the menu. Suddenly I was looking at food costs, supplier prices, what was selling, what wasn’t. Talking to the chefs, who are a whole different breed, passionate but sometimes, let’s say, ‘particular’. We had to figure out new specials, cost them out, make sure we could actually get the ingredients consistently. I remember one week we ran a “locally sourced” special and our main supplier for the star ingredient just… didn’t deliver. Scrambling doesn’t even begin to cover it.
- Customer Complaints (and Compliments, Sometimes): You’re the face. If someone’s steak is too tough, or their wine is corked, or the music is too loud – guess who gets an earful? I developed a very thick skin and a smile that could (hopefully) defuse most situations. You learn to listen, really listen, and try to make things right.
- Budget Battles: The numbers side was a killer. Trying to hit targets for revenue, keep costs down on food, beverages, labor… it felt like squeezing blood from a stone some days. The GM wanted weekly reports, monthly forecasts. I learned more about Excel shortcuts than I ever wanted to.
- Hygiene and Safety: This was non-negotiable. Making sure everything was spotless, staff followed procedures, equipment was safe. Inspections could happen anytime. The thought of someone getting sick on my watch kept me up at night. So, lots of checklists, lots of training, lots of double-checking.
The Realization Hit Hard
It was a blur. Early mornings, late nights. I practically lived at that hotel. I remember one particularly awful Tuesday. The main freezer went down, a banquet for 100 was happening that night, two waiters called in sick, and a VIP guest was complaining loudly about, well, everything. I just stood in the middle of the kitchen for a second, looking at the chaos, and thought, “This is what Dave ran from.”
I didn’t run, though. I got through it. They eventually hired a new permanent F&B Manager, someone with years more experience than my panicked six months. But you know what? That trial by fire taught me exactly what that job title means. It’s about being a problem-solver, a leader, a planner, a financial wizard, a people person, and sometimes just the calmest person in a storm, all at once. It’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. But if you thrive on organized chaos and making things happen against the odds, well, maybe it’s for you. I went back to being a supervisor, with a whole new respect for the person in that F&B office. And a much better understanding of why Dave needed a very, very long vacation.
