Words by Will Irvine (he/him)
It’s 4:45 PM on a Wednesday night. Across the city of Wellington, hospo workers are preparing for the dinner shift. They are setting tables, wiping down bars, and fixing kegs. If you’re reading this article, you’re probably a student, and the chances are you’re all too familiar with this ritual. Equally familiar is the pre-shift briefing. Depending on the temperament of your manager, this could sound like anything from group therapy to a fiery military pep talk. Tonight, though, I’ve been invited to sit in on one such briefing for the non-profit restaurant Everybody Eats.
Everybody Eats was founded in 2017 in Auckland, by Nick Loosely. While studying Green Economics, Loosely learned about Aotearoa’s catastrophic levels of food waste, coexisting with an economy that refuses to feed the poor and needy. In Te-Whanganui-A-Tara, it evolved from a Tuesday night pop-up to a thriving institution, open from Sunday to Wednesday every week. The restaurant operates on a Koha basis, with a fixed three-course meal every night, including a vegetarian option. You can pay as much or as little as you like, for restaurant-level service.
I’m sitting in a small loft building on Dixon Street, situated above a Pho restaurant and opposite a swing dance class. I can actually hear the dancers as I walk in, playing a 2010s pop hit and shuffling around. Inside the restaurant, it’s mostly quiet. The staff look like any other group of hospo employees. Perhaps a little older (most are in their mid to late 20s, with some who look significantly older), and oddly enthusiastic for a dinner shift, they are nevertheless a typical crowd. They wear black uniforms, and as we wait for the manager, they talk about their weeks.
All of these people are volunteers—often contributing one or two weeks a night to serve tables and complete all the regular hospo tasks for the benefit of their community. They come from a variety of backgrounds—a few I spoke to were internationals, or backpackers. Many worked full-time corporate jobs, or worked in the public service. Some were parents. One volunteer told me they were only in Wellington for a couple of days, and had found the restaurant as simply a nice way to spend an evening.
A volunteer I spoke to, a woman who must’ve been in her late 20s, told me she worked at NZ Red Cross in her day job. I asked her if she had worked in hospitality before this job—she told me that she had, and that prior to Everybody Eats, she couldn’t imagine getting back into the industry. “A lot of people with previous hospitality experience come back just because they miss it or they find it fun.” I was shown her custom named t-shirt, a uniform volunteers get when they work 20 shifts.
Without fail, every volunteer sung the praises of Jack Rainey, the Te-Whanganui-A-Tara manager who brought Loosely’s vision to our city. When I sat down with Rainey, he was adamant that the restaurant was for everybody. “It’s about the dignity and luxury of being able to dine out, which is a luxury that a lot of people can’t afford. Everybody has the same experience.” Although many of the customers were backpackers or unhoused people, Rainey told me that, increasingly, working and middle-class people were using the restaurant. Brought on by a struggling economy, he said the restaurant was growing in service every year.
Everybody Eats partially funds itself through the lease of its space for events, which it offers on the days that it isn’t serving food to the community. When I visited the team, they were buzzing in anticipation for an ice cream launch with Duck Island the following day. However, the cost of operating is fairly low. Supermarkets contribute a large portion of their excess vegetables to the cause, and Kaibosh is a huge donor in the restaurant's food rescue program.
Despite this, Rainey told me that all three restaurants were operating at a deficit. While the “ideal” payment was around $10, the average koha often fell at around $4-5 for a three-course meal. Although they were thankful for the outpouring of support, Rainey said they were constantly thinking of new ways to sort out their finances. “Other charitable organisations are always really keen to support us—they’ll go out for a staff dinner and say ‘Oh, let’s book out Everybody Eats’”.
As for that briefing? Well, Rainey was actually late, after helping dispel a fistfight outside, and the restaurant virtually roared into action without him. In the kitchen, full-time chefs worked opposite a group of volunteers to cook, present, and plate food that wouldn’t be out of place in an expensive Logan Brown-style joint. The staff divided themselves into sectors, greeting customers at the door and taking them to their tables with all the professionalism of a high-class restaurant.
No doubt for some of the people eating there that night, this was no different to any other dinner out. For weary backpackers, though, for single mums, unhoused people, and skint students, this was exactly what Rainey described. A touch of dignity. A chance to be served.
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