The Wall Street Journal - 07.04.2020

(coco) #1

THE WALL STREET JOURNAL. Tuesday, April 7, 2020 |A


THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC


As the new
coronavirus
forces big
changes in
how we
work, The Wall Street Jour-
nal is looking at how differ-
ent people are coping with
the stresses and risks. For
earlier articles in the series,
visit wsj.com/makingitwork.


Volunteer ranks shrank, and
food donations from big-box
stores disappeared as panicked
shoppers emptied shelves.
Ms. Mendoza and other wait
staff were contacted by one of
José’s restaurant managers,
who wanted to let them know
about a new nonprofit initiative,
Get Shift Done. It placed hun-
dreds of idle hospitality work-
ers at local food banks and pan-

tries—and it connected Ms.
Mendoza to OurCalling.
By the time she arrived,
OurCalling was making do with
donations from now-closed res-
taurants.
Ms. Mendoza is working five
days a week at the pantry and
expects to make about $325 a
week, helping prepare its daily
meal. She said her wages—
which are paid by Get Shift

Done—are enough to cover her
rent, and that her savings
should cover other expenses for
another six months.
In some ways, she said, the
crisis has made her feel lucky.
By the time she arrives at 7:
in the morning at OurCalling,
there are numerous people lined
up waiting for their lunch meal,
she said. For many of the 400-
odd who are served, it’s the

BYTE-PINGCHEN


Rosa Mendoza, a waitress in Dallas, now serves food to the homeless at a local food bank.

KLEKAMP GROUP

As a waitress, Rosa Mendoza
was used to working long shifts
and serving salt-rimmed mar-
garitas and aged mole sauce at
José, an upscale Mexican res-
taurant in Dallas.
Then the new coronavirus
pandemic hit, closing the res-
taurant. Rather than sit home,
Ms. Mendoza has turned her
attention to the homeless.
These days, Ms. Mendoza
gets in her car and makes an
early-morning drive to OurCall-
ing, a local food pantry. Upon
arriving, she and other workers
are checked for fevers at the
door with a forehead thermom-
eter. Once cleared, they put on
gloves and masks, and get to
work preparing meals.
At José, Ms. Mendoza, 26
years old, earned at least
$1,000 a week, mainly from


tips. She’s now earning about a
third of that—but takes home
an extra dose of satisfaction for
the help she provides.
Her waitressing job required
working 10-hour shifts on
weekdays, and longer ones on
the weekends. She loved joking
with customers, including regu-
lars who often tipped as much
as 30%.
As coronavirus cases rippled
across the globe in recent
months, she remembers watch-
ing YouTube videos about what
was going on. “I tried to be in-
formed,” she said, “but since it
wasn’t happening here, it
wasn’t affecting my daily life.”
On March 16, that changed.
Management at José told her
and about 50 co-workers about
its decision to temporarily
close. Dallas would issue a shel-
ter-in-place order soon after.
Almost overnight, Ms. Men-
doza’s world was transformed.
Work, the gym and regular vis-
its with her parents were ruled
out. She grew depressed, she
said. She had spent the past de-
cade in the restaurant business,
and now work all around her
had dried up.
OurCalling, an outreach cen-
ter that in normal times pro-
vides a range of services to the
homeless, was also struggling.

only meal they will get all day.
“We always had food at
home; I never really saw this
part of life,” said Ms. Mendoza,
whose father works in con-
struction and mother is a
kitchen manager in nearby Fort
Worth. “Maybe I was un-
aware—I lived a busy life,
worked long shifts.”
Ms. Mendoza and her
OurCalling co-workers bake
marble cake and mix butter let-
tuce salads, dish up cauliflower
rice and muse over what to do
with frozen chicken legs.
Around half a dozen of them
are like herself, laid off from
restaurants, and are now being
paid $10 an hour for their work
by Get Shift Done.
Ms. Mendoza, who earned
an associate’s degree in busi-
ness, said someday she might
like to open her own restau-
rant. But even once the econ-
omy recovers, she plans to keep
volunteering in her community.
If nothing else, she said, the
coronavirus has made her real-
ize how good it can feel to help
others. “I never discovered this
side of myself before,” she said.
“I feel fortunate to be out on
the streets,” she added. “I feel I
have a major task. I’m consid-
ered an essential employee
now.”

A Displaced Waitress Now Serves a Local Food Pantry


Shake Shack Inc. hardly
seems like a small enterprise,
with 7,600 employees, about
$500 million in annual revenue
and net income last year of $
million. Even so, it plans to ap-
ply for a new government-guar-
anteed small-business loan.


The New York-based fast-
food chain says it needs the
help to get through the virus
pandemic. Many of its roughly
140 company-owned U.S.
stores are in high-traffic urban
areas now largely shut down.
Sales are down 70% on aver-
age, the company said, and it
has furloughed or laid off 20%
of its corporate staff.
“We’re looking at it all,”
said a company spokeswoman.
“To the extent we believe
we’re eligible and parts of the
package will benefit the com-
pany, then we’ll look to pursue
applicable options.”
While the new $350 billion
Paycheck Protection Program
is aimed at businesses with
500 or fewer employees, lan-
guage in the $2 trillion federal
stimulus bill allows big restau-
rant and hotel chains to par-
ticipate regardless of how
many people they employ.
“The restaurant industry is
uniquely affected by this pan-
demic,” said Sean Kennedy,
executive vice president for
the National Restaurant Asso-
ciation, which lobbied for the
exception. “It was the first in-
dustry shut down. We think
we deserve a unique response
from the federal government.”
But John Lettieri, president
of the Economic Innovation
Group, a Washington think
tank, says big companies
should rely more on their own
resources or other federal
stimulus programs.
The small-business-loan
program is “the only lifeline
we’re offering to these classes
of businesses,” he said. “It
stretches the intent of statute
beyond recognition to apply it
to national entities.”
Some smaller franchisees
and owners worry that the big
firms could elbow them out for
loans if the fund gets depleted.
“This stuff is meant for me,
the little person,” said Daniel
Krause, who owns two Cracked
breakfast restaurants in Illi-
nois. “If it all ends up going to
the big dog, that’s so hard,” he
said. With sales down 80%, he
worries others will beat him
out of the funding, and then
he will be further in the red.
On Monday, more than
5,000 chefs, restaurateurs and
food-service workers sent a
letter to Congress asking for
fixes to the program that
could help smaller establish-
ments tap the funds, including
one that would allow for a lon-
ger window to reopen.
Stephanie O’Rourk, a part-
ner in the hospitality division
of consulting firm CohnReznick
LLP, said she has talked to hun-
dreds of clients with concerns
about the program.


“The conversation is liter-
ally from 8 a.m. until 1 in the
morning,” she said.
Portland, Ore., restaurateur
and cookbook author Naomi
Pomeroy said she filed for a
loan with her bank Friday and
was told that funds were al-
ready drying up. She and other
prominent chefs fear that big-
ger chains will be at an advan-
tage to access funds.
“A lot of people are apply-
ing, and that money is running
out very, very quickly. We are
going to need more money for
restaurants to get open again,”
Ms. Pomeroy said.
Many independent restau-
rants closed their doors after
states ordered dining bans last
month rather than trying to
slap together carry-out pro-
grams—and thus need more
time to rehire staff and be eli-
gible for loans. Large fast-food
chains, particularly those with
drive-throughs, remain opera-
tional and have retained more
of their staff as demand hasn’t
declined as starkly.
“We know Chili’s and
Denny’s are looking at this.
Everyone has access to this
same, finite pie,” said Cheetie
Kumar, owner of Raleigh, N.C.-
based restaurant Garland, who
put in her application for the

payment program last week.
Ms. Kumar has entirely shut
her operation, furloughing
most of her workers.
Trump administration offi-
cials have said they would seek
additional funding if money
runs out. Congressional sup-
port is likely, said an aide to
Sen. Marco Rubio, the Florida
Republican who chairs the Sen-
ate Committee on Small Busi-
ness and Entrepreneurship.
The loans are made by
banks, credit unions and other
lenders and have a 1% interest
rate. They are designed to keep
employees on the payrolls for
eight weeks. If a borrower
doesn’t lay off workers, the
government plans to forgive the
loan, including interest. Bor-
rowers may also use the money
for rent and utilities. The maxi-
mum loan is $10 million.
In addition to the exemp-
tion for hotel and restaurant
chains, a second exemption
was granted for franchise
owners in any line of business
who employ more than 500
people, as long as no single
outlet employs that many.
That provision will help
Todd Recknagel, who employs
more than 2,000 people at the
68 Massage Envy outlets he
owns. Mr. Recknagel says he
has been able to pay employ-
ees, but he can’t continue to
do that without a loan.
“We’re a collection of small
businesses,” said Mr. Reckna-
gel, who says he will seek the
maximum loan of $10 million.

Small-Business Help


Goes to Bigger Firms


Restaurant and hotel
chains can get loans
regardless of how
many they employ.

ByBob Davis
in Washington
andHeather Haddon
in Chicago
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