Stop Paying Influencers and Start Paying Attention to Your Staff.

What I’ve learned from growing up with an executive chef for a dad, being immersed in the industry myself, and from the cooks, dishwashers, servers, and bartenders I’ve worked alongside—there is always someone on staff with a creative side hustle. Always. Doesn’t matter if it’s a five-star fine dining joint, a punk rock bar with sticky floors, or a shawarma stand parked next to a gas station. Someone in that building has a camera. Someone makes music. Someone designs flyers. Someone's editing reels in iMovie or Photoshop while you’re figuring out the specials for the day.

There is creative gold sitting right inside your walls.

So why the hell are we still throwing money at influencers who’ve never done a single prep list in their life? People who wouldn’t last twenty minutes behind your grill station, let alone understand what it actually takes to run your place. Why are you paying for content from people who don’t cook, don’t serve, and probably DoorDash everything they eat?

Now—before some of you get defensive—if you’re already crushing it, influencers just show up for free because your food slaps and the vibe’s tight, or if you're one of those trust fund kids playing restaurateur with a pile of startup cash and a safety net under your apron, cool. This article probably isn’t for you. Keep scrolling. If you’re old, rich, or just completely out of touch and think social media “just happens,” then congrats. But for the rest of you—the ones budgeting down to the last linen, trying to build something with a soul—listen up.

Because here’s what a lot of you are doing: paying influencers hundreds or thousands of dollars to post recycled content with zero guarantee it’ll bring in real customers. Some of these clowns are pulling $2,000 a post. And for what? A 10-second reel with a generic caption, maybe a spike in likes, and no follow-through. No loyalty. No soul. That post becomes about them—not your restaurant, not your food, and sure as hell not your people. And let’s be honest, most of them don’t even tag your staff, your dishwashers, your line, your team that made it all happen. It’s not a collaboration. It’s a hijacking.

And while you're burning cash on that, someone in your kitchen is just waiting for the chance to show you what they can do. Maybe your bartender did theater in college and is an absolute natural in front of a camera. Maybe your dishwasher is lowkey a killer video editor. Maybe your food runner takes film photos and has a better eye than the photographer you paid last year. Maybe your line cook has a beat catalog they’re selling on Bandcamp. You don’t know, because you haven’t asked.

So ask. Then empower. Give them a shot.

Let your prep cook make some reels. Let your server design the next flyer or your merch line. Let your team DJ the next night market pop-up. Let your people create. You're not just getting content—you’re building loyalty, you’re supporting your staff beyond the line, and you’re giving someone an opportunity to flex their skills in ways that might even lead to a better future for them outside the industry. You wanna talk about mental health? Purpose? Morale? Start there.

And don’t give me the budget excuse. If you’ve got money to throw at some foodie TikToker with no receipts, you’ve got money to pay your own staff to help tell your story. You just haven’t thought to look inward yet. You’re not “saving time,” you’re just lazy. Harsh? Maybe. But tell me I’m wrong.

What you need isn’t polished influencer bullshit. What you need is real. Raw. Imperfect. From-the-inside content. A perspective that actually knows what it’s like to be there when the ticket machine won’t stop spitting and you’re three deep in the weeds. That’s the kind of marketing people respond to now. That’s the new authenticity—and it can’t be bought, only built.

Worst case, it doesn’t work. But at least you tried to invest in your team. Best case? You unlock a whole new voice for your brand and give someone on your staff a reason to stay, grow, and be proud of what they helped create.

You already blackball cooks who piss you off. You already fire people over the dumbest shit. So how about trying the opposite? Take care of your people. Nurture their skills. Bet on them instead of betting on strangers.

Cut the shit. Stop feeding egos that don’t feed you back. The future of restaurant marketing is already clocked in and waiting for direction. You just have to open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you.

Start with one person this week. Ask them what they love outside of the job. You might be surprised at what they’re capable of—if you just give a fuck enough to ask.