How a kitchen porter’s zen was ruined by the group chat

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One of the many blessings of the often overlooked career of kitchen porter is the transient application one can apply to the role. There is always work, with few questions asked. Transition between employers is not guilt-ridden or detrimental.

I wash dishes during Scotland’s tourist season (from April until October) and then shuffle off on my own peregrinations. Come spring, I find myself facing a familiar model of washing machine in a new but always nondescript room, this year in a cultural centre on a small island.

Over three decades, I have dabbled in various other roles within the sector — working in cellars, as a barista and waiting silver service. But the meditative and self-contained nature of kitchen portering makes it the best job for me. The wages are low but so is the stress. No matter how the shift unfolds, the night ends with the draining of a washing machine, and some bin bags shuffled out into a dimly lit lane.

Or at least it used to end there. Then came WhatsApp. Now, the insufferable glow of late-night work messages risks ruining this otherwise agreeable métier.

It seems someone has decided that employers, managers and colleagues need to keep a portal of communication open at all times. Nobody has the ability to worm out of this, no matter their role or rank. It is easy to get lost in unending work group chats, sometimes over something as asinine as a misplaced glove.

It is well after midnight. I am at home, settled, switched off and immersed in my book, ebbing into sleep. My pulsating phone emits white light into the room: a message. “Does anyone have any requests for days off next week?” This is a first in, first served world. Slowly requests trickle in, followed by convivial banter from two barmen still on shift.

The idea that one can simply bow out of these chats or silence their phone outside of work hours is unfortunately not practical. Recently, I missed a message about some deliveries I had to attend to on my next shift because they were lost in a chat that, over my weekend off, had amassed more than 150 new communications, including a photo from a wedding and a member of staff quitting, yes quitting, on the message thread!

I am not completely against the informality of WhatsApp. It presumably has a positive impact on team building and a certain amount of familiarity with the owner’s cat can be constructive. However, the unpaid time spent on separating the chaff from the wheat — and let’s face it, there is a lot of chaff — is completely unjustified for a kitchen porter, 21st century or not.

I dream of a future where I can walk out of work for my weekend without the dread of involvement, an unfettered 48 hours of reading or walking without the constant drama of the workplace I’ve left behind playing out in my pocket. This is not Netflix, nor is it TikTok. It is my time, and I want it back.

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