I’ve spent a ton of time recently thinking about Season 2 of The Bear.
Yes, it’s a great show. Yes, it should probably win an Emmy. Yes, Jeremy Allen White is undeniably attractive. But none of that has been what I’ve been thinking about.
Instead, I’ve been thinking about the nature of craft. About excellence. About environments and high expectations and being surrounded by good, high-performing people.
All of this thinking has helped me define a clearer vision for what I want out of my next role.
If you’re unfamiliar with the Bear, (in which case you should watch it immediately) — chef Carmen Berzatto (played by Jeremy Allen White) is a renowned, award-winning chef who leaves the world of high-end kitchens to take over his dead brother’s dysfunctional Chicago Beef restaurant.
Season 1 revolves around Carmy’s attempts to tame the dysfunction, the beginnings of some of the staff catching the vision of what he’s doing and developing respect for Carmy’s skills, and ultimately Carmy’s desire to transform the restaurant into something better than it is.
Season 2 is the beginning of the transformation story, which involves Carmy investing in his people to help them sharpen their skills, hone their craft, find their confidence, and help realize the vision for the restaurant.
There are a few scenes in particular from this season that I’ve been thinking about nonstop (like once per week at minimum). Here’s the first —
Marcus has been a pastry chef for all of a few months. He’s had no formal training, but he’s already demonstrated that he’s earnest, hard-working, and a devoted student of his craft.
So, Carmy sends Marcus off to Copenhagen to learn from an excellent pastry chef named Luca. Marcus is understandably nervous — his only frame of reference for working with highly skilled chefs is Carmy losing his temper when he’s stressed. He expects that Luca is going to be just as demanding as Carmy. Luca delivers on that expectation, albeit without the yelling.
There’s no “easing Marcus in” — it’s right to plating technique on day 1. Before he has a chance to make his first mistake, Luca corrects his plating.
When Marcus gets it wrong? There’s no “Oh don’t worry, it’s all good.” Instead, the instruction is “Nope. Again, chef.”
When Marcus apologizes for being nervous? No attempt to immediately put him at ease. Instead, Luca quietly observes and when Marcus makes another, worse plating mistake, Luca calls it as it is — “Hm. Worse.”
But here’s what’s important — Luca doesn’t just let Marcus go on making the same mistake over and over. He steps in, demonstrates the proper technique again, and gives Marcus tactical advice on how to fix his mistake and do better. He also encourages Marcus to execute with confidence and not second-guess himself. Marcus nails it on the next try.
Luca demonstrates a quality of an excellent leader here — he is demanding, but he is not demeaning. He knows that Marcus has the skills and will to learn, so he pushes Marcus to execute at a high level.
Luca demonstrates the kind of team dynamic I want to join — everyone is pushing each other. We don’t pull punches when something is bad. We don’t shy away from delivering brutal feedback. We don’t try to make someone feel better about putting out bad work. Instead, we say “Nope. Again.” We acknowledge that it’s bad, and we keep working at it. Leaders give constructive tactical advice where it matters.
Let’s see what else we can learn from Luca and Marcus —
There’s enough in this one scene to write an entire essay. I’m not gonna do that (yet).
What strikes me is how Luca describes the arc of his career — started early, built his skills early, built momentum and started to become very good — good enough that he was legitimately the best in his role at a few places.
Then, he joined a particularly high-performing team where he pitched himself in competition with another new-hire. And he got demolished. The other guy was better than Luca in every conceivable way you can be good at what they do. He was so good that Luca realized that he would never be able to catch up.
How would you react in that scenario? Could you live with having your entire perception of your skill-level irreparably shattered like that? Would you give in to feeling discouraged? Would you give in to pride and retreat to the comfort of arenas where you knew you were more likely to be the best?
It would certainly be tempting. I know I would be tempted.
Luca made the best possible choice in that scenario. Instead of retreating to the comfort of being a big fish in a small pond or wallowing in self-pity, Luca decided to do the most important thing he could do — try to keep up.
By just trying to keep up, he got better than he ever imagined that he could. He had someone to chase, and it made all the difference. It pushed him to be excellent.
I want to be in an environment like Luca describes.
I want to look around at my team and think to myself “Holy shit. I can’t compete with any of these people. Time to push myself to try to keep up.” I want to work in an environment that puts high-performing people in close proximity so we can learn from one another and strive together to raise the bar on our skills.
I’d love to reflect on my next job and think “I’ve done the best work of my career here, and it’s because I’ve been trying to keep up with my insanely talented peers.”
Now, I don’t necessarily have the same arc as Luca — I didn’t start early, and I don’t feel like I’m the best designer where I work. I don’t even feel like I’m aiming to be “the best”. I’m more like Marcus — I’m hungry to learn and to level up. I want to be excellent at what I do.
Marcus nailed it when he compared Luca’s experience to legendary Chicago Bulls basketball player Scottie Pippen. Nobody else from his era could have been Michael Jordan — there was only one Michael Jordan. But Scottie Pippen was still in the NBA Hall of Fame, just by trying to keep up with MJ.
I don’t have any delusions of being a “Michael Jordan”. But I very much want to be around them and see what happens when I push myself to keep up and learn from them.
Changing gears a bit, let’s dive into one of the best redemption arcs in all of television and what I learned from watching what happened when Carmy sent his “cousin” Richie to go work in the best restaurant in the world for a week —
At this point in the story of The Bear, Richie has done little else but resist Carmy at every turn, fight against change, and resent the fact that he’s in his mid-40s and will probably die working in a restaurant and hating his life. If we’re being honest, Richie is a loser.
From that perspective, it makes sense that he doesn’t take the job of polishing forks very seriously. (even if they’re the forks for the best restaurant in the world)
Meeting Garrett might be one of the best things that ever happened to Richie. Garrett doesn’t shrink from holding Richie accountable to the details of his job, and has no problem frankly telling Richie “That wasn’t clean” when Richie misses the bar.
Richie tries to push back with “I’ve been doin’ this for nine hours. I think I know what’s clean”, and Garrett cuts him zero slack. “I’m telling you that’s not clean. That one’s not clean either. Please do them properly.”
When Richie’s exasperated response sends the clear message that he does not care about whether the forks are actually clean, Garrett pulls him outside to give one of the best masterclasses in customer-obsession I’ve ever seen.
Garrett immediately calls out the attitude from Richie — “Do you think this is below you or something?”
Richie’s response of “Man, I think I’m 45 years old polishing forks” betrays the fact that he clearly doesn’t see the purpose of the work he’s doing. And because he can’t see the purpose, he doesn’t care.
So when Richie asks Garrett “You really drink this Kool-aid, huh?”, Garrett takes the opportunity to show Richie the vision and purpose of what they’re doing. This is my favorite bit:
“Do you see their faces when they walk in here? How stoked they are to see us, and how stoked we have to be to serve them?”“At any given moment, one of those people who is waiting in line gets to eat here. They get to spend their time and their money here. I’m sorry bro, but we need to have some forks without streaks in them. Every day here is the freaking SUPER BOWL.”
“You don’t have to drink the Kool-aid, Richie, I just need you to respect me. I need you to respect the staff. I need you to respect the diners. And I need you to respect yourself.”
When Richie nods his head and responds with a sheepish “I can do respect”, it’s clear that he finally gets it.
But why did this work? Garrett’s not the first person to admonish Richie to try to get him to care more (or at all). In my opinion, Garrett was the one to get through to Richie because of what he was doing when their conversation started.
Garrett was polishing forks right next to Richie.
The smallest, most seemingly insignificant task wasn’t below Garrett, because he was obsessed with every single part of their customers’ experience, down to the smallest details. That’s why it finally clicked for Richie.
It’s about respect. It’s about love. It’s about being so customer-obsessed that every little detail is the most important detail — right down to the streaks on the forks.
I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve let my fair share of “unpolished forks” ship to customers because I felt complacent in my work. But maybe even worse than knowing that I shipped unpolished forks was seeing that nobody else noticed or cared.
I want my next role to be on a team full of “Garrett”s — where every detail is important, every day is the freaking Super Bowl, and nobody is above polishing forks. Not because we’re trying to feel self-important, but because we genuinely believe that taking the utmost care in every little detail is a reflection of how we feel about our customers.
I want to be called out when I leave streaks on a fork out or carelessness or laziness. I want to call out unpolished forks when I see them from others.
I want to be on a team where we sweat the small stuff because we understand that it’s a privilege to have people spend their time and money with us, and we have to be stoked to serve them.
In the interest of not spoiling the rest of Richie’s redemption arc, you’ll have to watch the rest of Season 2 to see what happens now that he’s finally pulled his head out of his butt.
As for me, I’m not sure where I’ll find what I’m looking for from a team, environment, and culture. What I do know is that this is the standard I’m after — excellence, from top to bottom.
If and when I find an organization that operates like this, I will do everything I can to join the team.
In the meantime, I’m going to work on the “polishing forks” and “plating technique” parts of my design craft.
Every second counts.