This piece argues that many modern socialists and their allies talk about supporting workers while treating them poorly, citing examples from politics and the restaurant industry and questioning whether the rhetoric matches their behavior.
Not long ago a story ran about a professor who complained that construction workers in a coffee shop were “loud” and taking up too much space, and that anecdote set the tone for a larger point about attitude and class. That incident underlined a gap between the way some self-described advocates speak about the working class and how they actually behave around it. That disconnect is worth unpacking because actions matter more than slogans.
Contemporary socialist-leaning elites often come from privilege and careers far from the shop floor, and that background shapes how they view labor. When people who have never held steady blue-collar jobs prescribe sweeping fixes for working people, it creates blind spots and resentment. It also invites scrutiny when those same voices are reported to mistreat their own employees.
There are multiple public examples of elected officials and candidates whose offices were described as hostile to staff. Rep. Katie Porter “would scream at staff” and go on what were called “crazed rampages” directed at quieter employees. Reporting on other high-profile Democrats surfaced claims of berating behavior and exceptionally high turnover in senior offices.
Kamala Harris’s operation reportedly had a 91 percent turnover rate at one point, and former interns described an atmosphere where profanity and rigid formalities were common. Accounts said junior staff were expected to stand for greetings and even limit eye contact, patterns that point to a workplace culture of intimidation rather than mentorship. These stories undercut the image of progressive leaders as gentle champions of workers.
Sen. Amy Klobuchar’s office was described in reporting as marked by “explosive rage, humiliation” and an environment driven by fear, anger, and shame, and the issue reportedly drew concern from senior figures in her party. Those descriptions are stark and suggest that holding power and advocating for the working class are not the same thing as treating people with basic respect. Workplace conduct matters, and it reveals real values.
So it’s hardly shocking that a former employee of Francesca Hong would describe her as a poor boss; details about management at her restaurant and its closure have circulated for some time.
“Having worked for Matt, I have a hard time believing this story,” the post reads. “I’ve never seen him talk rudely to anyone. The other half of ownership, on the other hand … good grief. You couldn’t pay me enough money to work for her again.”
The Matt mentioned likely refers to Matt Morris, the former co-owner and chef of Morris Raman, a Madison restaurant that opened in 2016 and later closed in 2024. That context matters because it separates different figures in the business while still raising questions about how ownership treated staff. The closure of a small business is a practical outcome that affects employees’ livelihoods directly.
https://x.com/libsoftiktok/status/2084655476344562096
Our industry as a whole is in desperate need of restructuring, but guess what? So is our government. The ability of the restaurant business to meaningfully change depends heavily on politics—and on the outcome of this next election. The inequities across every sector of the hospitality industry—and our deep roots in white supremacy—have been exposed, but none of the structural changes we need to make will be sustainable without shifts in economic and social policy. From immigrant rights and protecting farm workers to minimum wage laws, health care, and small business subsidies, it all comes back to the policies that shaped restaurants and how normalized they have become.
Let’s stop having the conversation about going back to normal. Normal is no longer relevant. Normal was not okay. Normal was not good enough. Normal was 17-hour days of line-cooking so I could barely make rent. Normal was employees relying on a tip from a customer to make a decent living wage. Normal was substance abuse, anxiety, and other mental health illnesses pervading our workers.
Those passages capture genuine grievances about labor conditions and structural injustice, but the question remains: if someone sees those problems clearly, why not fix them in their own workplace first? When leaders demand systemic change, personal example strengthens their claim. Without that, critics are justified in asking whether the agenda is sincere or performative.
The policy prescriptions socialists favor—higher mandated wages, heavier taxation on wealth, and broader regulation—often have trade-offs that affect jobs and small businesses. For example, sharp minimum wage hikes in certain sectors have been linked to reduced hours, job losses, and closed restaurants in some reporting. Policymakers should account for potential ripple effects instead of assuming all consequences will be positive or evenly distributed.
When politicians push for mandates while their own behavior toward staff looks callous, it feeds a narrative of hypocrisy. Voters and workers notice when rhetoric about solidarity is not matched by respectful treatment of employees. That gap makes it harder to trust grand promises about saving industries or reshaping the economy.
At the end of the day, people deserve leaders who will champion reforms and also demonstrate basic decency toward the folks who work for them. The stories about mistreatment, turnover, and closed businesses are concrete reminders that good intentions need good practice. If change is truly the aim, it should start in one’s own workplace before it becomes a demand on other people through policy.
