There's something about the restaurant industry that is so much fun until it's not.

And then once you hit your burnout point, it's like falling off a cliff.

This is death, sex, and money.

The show from WNYC about the things we think about a lot and need to talk about more.

I'm Anna Sale.

Melissa Montero had been cooking in New Orleans restaurant kitchens for over a decade,

when late last year she decided to leave it behind for good.

I think I'll always miss the camaraderie of line cooks together.

I mean, I still keep in touch with line cooks from my first restaurant job.

We're lifelong friends. Some of them I'm closer to than I'm closer to my own brothers.

But I don't miss the hours. I don't miss the relatively crummy pay and my coming home smelling like the friar and I beat up old

dancego shoes in the corner. I don't miss any of that. Melissa is just one of millions of

restaurant workers who've re-evaluated their career since the pandemic upended their work.

I wasn't able to pay my lights and gas.

I was not able sometimes to even get diapers and milk for my son.

It was like, why am I working for a job that I'm able to provide for my child?

Nearly 7% of hospitality workers quit in August alone this year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

That's the highest rate ever recorded, almost 900,000 workers deciding to leave their jobs that month.

In the food industry, workers are quitting, and restaurant owners are closing their businesses.

I loved getting to make grilled cheese sandwiches for a living. Street, workers are quitting, and restaurant owners are closing their businesses.

I loved getting to make grilled cheese sandwiches for a living. It was so much fun.

Man, I can't believe I'm getting this choked up about this.

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