“I hope you drop your tray!” A drunken bar regular irrationally screams at Arsh Pannagh, slurring his words and accompanying them with flying wads of spit. His sentiment lingered in her mind until the next day, her birthday. Pannagh only wanted to celebrate her 21st at her workplace, Earls. Everyone wore pink, her favourite colour, and were looking forward to their fun night ahead. Before he became the harassing customer, he and Pannagh were involved in a relationship. His appearance at Earls on her birthday was not a mere coincidence; it was an intentional act on his part, and the rude words continued to follow her, even while she was off shift.
In the restaurant industry, servers can make decent money, but at what cost? Imagine going out for a romantic dinner. The table is dimly lit with an orange hue from the candle flame, the wine glasses are polished flawlessly and placed beside the cutlery, reflecting your own appearance. The server greets you with an inviting smile, perfectly setting the mood for the evening. A small drop of sweat rolls down their forehead as they scramble to find their pen and paper. Their eyes slyly flutter around to the surrounding tables to see what their next move is. The seemingly polished server standing in front of you, asking if you’d like sparkling or still, has virtually perfected the dance.
The restaurant industry thrives on its customers. Making a connection with a table leads to returning customers and, in turn, can lead to a happier server and repeat business. Walking up to familiar faces, asking them about their day and genuinely waiting for their response is what keeps business running. For Pannagh’s case, that bubbly and comedic repertoire with a few bar regulars only left her feeling embarrassed.
“[A bar regular] came up to me and was touching my butt, and then he came and pinched my tummy and goes ‘you could lose a couple, for sure,’” she recalled.
Pannagh’s only thought in that horrifying moment was, did you actually just pinch my tummy? He pulled the cinch of her waist. Pannagh was appalled and knew at that moment that the regulars were getting too comfortable in her work environment.
Many servers can feel as though they become trapped in this precarious line of work, many of whom are just trying to get themselves through student loans. They feel as though they should hold on to the job because they’re making more money than they would at a 9 to 5 job. Others might not see post-secondary education as a viable path and so they lean on the restaurant industry to make ends meet on a monthly basis. Whatever the situation, many servers experience the same thing. Divides are created between a server’s true identity and the identity they must present, as if they’re always on stage and the spotlight hits when they clock in for their shift, so they can make their money. The exhaustion that servers face on a daily basis leaves them with little energy to explore and think, ‘What else is out there for me?’
Jennifer Klenner was unaware of the reality of working as a server when she was hired at Earls in 2024. She remembers picking up one table in an open section, a decision that would completely change the trajectory of her outlook on the industry.
“I first served him when I was getting trained. He was a regular guy, I thought, just an older guy who was coming in for coffee. I started chatting a bit more when I served him and he would ask to sit in my section. I thought he was fine, but then he started writing me letters,” Klenner said.
Klenner never thought that the initial enthusiasm that landed her the job would place her in such a dangerous predicament. In the letters he would hand-deliver to Klenner while she was on shift, he would ask her to meet outside of work, specifically at the Tournament Capital Centre. She thought it was weird, but maybe he was harmless. Klenner recalls one evening when she wasn’t serving him, but she would periodically walk past his table. He asked her if he could take photos of her. Klenner immediately knew their playful server-regular relationship had taken a turn. She told him no, but this didn’t stop him from messing around. A short time after, he stopped Klenner to show her photos he had taken of her backside.
“He had taken three or four pictures of me and he was laughing, saying ‘Oh my gosh, look at these pictures I got of you!’” she recalled. “I said, ‘You need to stop, that’s weird and makes me uncomfortable.’”
After this encounter, the letters became even more persistent and in-depth about how he would dream of Klenner at night and that he had feelings for her.
Klenner knew that this man was no longer harmless. The letters would turn into direct messages on Facebook, flooding her phone. She knew this issue needed to be taken to management, and the man was promptly told not to return to Earls.
Servers carry more than trays; they carry the weight of expectations and the pressure to keep guests happy even when boundaries are crossed. What happens at establishments like Earls reflects a broader reality across the service industry, where harassment is often accepted as “part of the job.” Acknowledging these experiences matters because change only begins when these situations are openly discussed.