Startup Diaries #2 - Yes, Chef: What The Bear Taught Me About Startup Life

As a tech startup entrepreneur living in New York City, I didn’t expect a TV series about a Chicago sandwich shop to hit so close to home. Then I watched FX’s The Bear, a gritty, heartfelt show about a young chef returning to run his family’s failing restaurant and I was hooked.

Week after week, I saw Carmy Berzatto (brilliantly played by Jeremy Allen White) battle chaos in the kitchen, struggle to build a team out of misfits, and pour his soul into transforming a tiny business against all odds. It felt familiar. The adrenaline, the stress, the camaraderie, the small victories and big meltdowns, it was like a mirror of the startup world. In The Bear, Carmy’s mission is to turn a greasy spoon joint into a world-class restaurant; in my world, it’s turning a rough idea into a successful tech company. Different ingredients, same recipe.

In this blog post, I’ll share the powerful lessons and parallels I found between The Bear’s kitchen and the startup hustle. From leadership under fire to building team culture, from managing constant crises to finding purpose in the grind, The Bear serves up a feast of insights for entrepreneurs and anyone striving to build something great. Grab a seat at the chef’s table, it’s about to get spicy.

Carmy Berzatto catching his breath in the chaotic kitchen of The Original Beef. In The Bear, the kitchen is a war zone, a daily gauntlet of fires (sometimes literal ones) that Carmy and crew must survive. Leaky pipes, screaming ticket printers, surprise health inspections, and way too many orders coming in at once, every episode throws a new curveball. Carmy quickly learns that as boss, his job is basically putting out fires every single day. If it’s not one thing, it’s another: a clogged toilet here, a missing shipment there, an oven that decides to die during the lunch rush. Sound familiar, founders? In startup life, crisis is the norm. Servers go down hours before a big demo. A bug in the new update causes customer outrage. A key employee suddenly quits. Entrepreneurship is largely about solving problems, fix one, learn from it, then brace for the next. I’ve come to realize, much like Carmy, that “one flawless day with no surprises” is a myth. There’s always another fire to put out, and we entrepreneurs “professionally swim in the chaos” of constant problem-solving.

The key is learning to thrive under these conditions, not just survive. In the show, we watch Carmy adapt on the fly when a catering gig goes wrong or when an online ordering system overwhelms the kitchen with tickets. (In one nail-biting scene, sous-chef Sydney forgets to disable pre-orders for online takeout, and the printer unleashes a biblical flood of orders that pushes everyone to a breaking point. I could practically feel my blood pressure rising as I watched, it reminded me of the time we launched our new AI feature and suddenly got flooded with customer tickets that pushed our support system to its limits!). The lesson Carmy learns and every startup founder eventually does too is to expect the unexpected. You have to stay quick on your feet and ready for anything. The moment you think “once we get past this one problem, everything will smooth out,” another challenge lands in your lap. Instead of chasing the fantasy of a stress-free day, The Bear shows the value of embracing chaos and reacting with a cool head. Carmy doesn’t always succeed in staying calm, he has his meltdowns, but he keeps getting back up, apologizing when he screws up, and trying to do better next time. As a entrepreneur, I’ve been there. Over time, you do get better at it. You start finding calm in the storm. When you accept that constant challenges are part of the game, you become less prone to panic, more focused on solutions. And eventually, with enough problems solved, that chaotic kitchen (or startup) begins to run a bit more like a well-oiled machine.

One of the most inspiring arcs in The Bear is watching Carmy turn a motley crew of short-order cooks into a coordinated team. In the beginning, the restaurant’s staff is distrustful of this hotshot fine-dining chef from New York barging in with new ideas. There’s yelling, hurt feelings, and open defiance. So Carmy does something smart: he establishes a new culture from day one a French brigade system in the kitchen, where everyone has a role and they communicate constantly (lots of “Corner!” and “Behind!” to avoid crashing into each other). And most importantly, everyone calls each other “Chef” – a gesture of respect and shared purpose. It’s amazing how this small change shifts their mindset. Line cooks, dishwashers, the pastry guy, suddenly they all feel like professionals on a mission. “Yes, Chef!” becomes the refrain that keeps them aligned. As Forbes noted, The Bear turned “Yes, chef” into a mantra that’s “about acknowledging effort and expertise” on the team – a way of saying I hear you, I respect you, and I’ve got your back.

In startup terms, what Carmy did was introduce process and respect into chaos. He essentially implemented an Agile-like workflow in the kitchen, daily communication, clearly defined roles, rapid feedback. (For a startup, this would be like adopting Scrum sprints or stand-up meetings – except the Scrum Master is wearing an apron!) The “Yes, Chef” culture mirrors what a great startup culture can be: everyone’s accountable to the mission, no role is too small, and respect flows in all directions. I’ve learned that in my company too, you want a culture where people take ownership and acknowledge each other’s contributions. Whether it’s saying “Yes, chef,” or “Got it, boss,” or just a mutual understanding, that clarity and respect can transform a disorganized group into a true team.

Crucially, Carmy also learns to trust and empower his people. Early on, he recognizes talent in Sydney Adamu, a young aspiring chef who joins The Beef with big ambitions. He takes a leap and makes her his sous-chef on the spot, essentially his second-in-command. It’s a bold move and it comes with growing pains but it pays off. Sydney brings fresh ideas (that new online order system, for one, plus gourmet tweaks to the menu) and she eventually becomes the linchpin of the kitchen. Carmy’s decision to delegate and lift up a star player like Sydney is a textbook leadership move. No founder can do it all alone (though we sure try, to our detriment). The Bear reminded me that finding people who share your passion and giving them real responsibility is how a business survives and scales. When Carmy entrusts Sydney with developing new recipes or lets her run the kitchen expo, he’s not abdicating leadership, he’s multiplying it. Likewise, he mentors the awkward pastry chef Marcus, pushes the abrasive Richie to find where he fits, and even sends his senior line cooks Tina and Ebraheim to culinary school to level up their skills. These moves empower the team and create buy-in. I’ve seen the same in startup teams: your job as founder/CEO is to identify strengths, nurture them, and give people ownership. The pride and loyalty that come from that are immeasurable. By the end of Season 2, when the crew is launching their new restaurant, they operate with a unity and discipline that Carmy could only dream of at the start. That is the payoff of investing in your team.

From day one, Carmy walks into The Original Beef with a grand vision: to overhaul this old-school sandwich dive and infuse it with the excellence he tasted in the fine-dining world. New menu items, cleaner workflows, updated decor, better financing, he wants to change pretty much everything to turn his late brother’s shabby eatery into something special. As a founder, I recognized that ambitious glint in his eye. It’s the classic startup instinct: “We can do better. Let’s rebuild this and make it amazing.” In The Bear, this drive to innovate is a source of both progress and conflict. The long-time staff (like crusty Richie or traditionalist Tina) resist change hard at first. They bristle at new recipes and fancy changes to their kitchen. Carmy pushes too much too fast and tensions flare. There’s a pivotal moment when he realizes he has to dial it back and find a balance between preserving what worked in the old restaurant and introducing improvements gradually. This struck a chord with me: in a startup, you might have a bold new strategy or a disruptive idea, especially if you come in as a new leader, but you can’t ignore the human factor. Change is essential for growth, but if you alienate your team or customers by moving too abruptly, you risk it all.

The lesson here is two-fold: don’t fear change, but implement it thoughtfully. Carmy learns to pace his revolution. He involves the team in decisions (eventually), respects certain traditions (keeping some original menu favorites), and explains why the changes matter. By Season 2, we see the crew buying into the vision, they’re excited to reinvent The Beef as the new restaurant, even if it means temporary pain. In my entrepreneurial journey, I’ve learned that any major pivot or new initiative needs that same careful rollout. Listen to your team’s concerns, get their input, and give everyone a stake in the outcome. When we decided to rewrite our entire codebase for scalability, I knew it was the right call, but it was a daunting change for the developers. We held brainstorming sessions, incorporated their ideas, and made it a collective mission. The result: not only a better product, but a team that felt ownership of the transformation. In The Bear, after many bumps, Carmy achieves something similar. By involving Sydney and Richie in planning the new restaurant “The Bear,” he turns former skeptics into co-creators. As one business article put it, The Bear shows that change is good, but don’t change too much too quickly, especially when inheriting an existing business. Evolution works best when you bring your people along for the ride.

At the same time, don’t lose sight of the vision. One thing I admire is how Carmy clings to his high standards and dreams of excellence. He insists they can turn this scrappy operation into a world-class establishment, aiming even for a Michelin star eventually. That passion for quality can cause friction (there’s a scene in Season 2 where Carmy’s obsession with perfection leads him to trash dish after dish in frustration), but it also sets a tone: we’re not just doing this for survival, we’re doing it to be great. In startups, having a clear, inspiring vision is crucial. It’s what gets you through the grind. There were times my team and I were cranking on bug fixes at 2 AM and morale was low, but talking about the big picture, the product we believed we could create, the users we wanted to delight, would light that fire again. Similarly, The Bear reminds us that every small business needs a big dream. Just temper it with patience and pragmatism along the way.

Running a kitchen or a startup isn’t just a test of skill, it’s a test of character and endurance. One of the most realistic aspects of The Bear is how it portrays stress and mental health. Carmy is an incredibly talented leader, but he’s also deeply scarred by his past (his brother’s suicide, a fraught family, and the cutthroat fine-dining world he escaped). Under the surface, he’s battling anxiety, grief, and a gnawing fear of failure. Sound familiar? Founders often carry silent burdens, fear of letting others down, impostor syndrome, personal struggles, even as we try to project confidence. In the show, we see Carmy’s anxiety manifest in panic attacks and nightmares. In one poignant episode, he steps away from the restaurant chaos to attend an Al-Anon meeting (a support group for families of addicts) to better understand his late brother’s struggles, and his own. It’s a raw moment where this tough chef allows himself to be vulnerable and seek help. The message to entrepreneurs is clear: don’t ignore your mental health. You might think you have to be invincible, hustling 24/7, but everyone has a breaking point. Carmy nearly hits his and he learns that taking a break or getting help isn’t weakness, it’s necessary. As the Clover business blog bluntly put it, “entrepreneurs ignore their mental health at their own peril”. You can’t lead a business if you’re falling apart inside.

I took that lesson to heart. In the early phase of my startup, I was grinding nonstop, eating poorly, barely sleeping, basically living on adrenaline and coffee. I thought that’s what it took. But eventually, the cracks showed: I became irritable, lost creativity, and flirted with burnout. It wasn’t until I finally opened up to a mentor and took a much-needed short vacation that I came back with clarity. Now, I try to prioritize small things like exercise, proper meals, and the occasional unplugged weekend. The Bear dramatizes this need for self-care through Carmy’s journey. By Season 2’s end, in a poetic twist of fate, Carmy gets accidentally locked in the walk-in cooler during the big opening night of the new restaurant (a result of a maintenance oversight). At first he’s furious and panicked, trapped while his team is out there facing the storm without him. But then, in that forced stillness, he has a moment of introspection and even peace. It’s as if the universe was telling him to slow down. And you know what? The team survives without him for a night, they’ve got this. To me, that scene said: sometimes you need to step back and trust the people you’ve trained; the world won’t end if you take a pause. In fact, building a startup that can run without you constantly holding the wheel is the ultimate test of leadership. Carmy’s goal was to create a kitchen that functioned as a unit and ironically, it’s when he’s literally out of the kitchen that he sees they can fly on their own. As founders, we should strive for the same: train, delegate, and create systems such that if you had to step into a walk-in fridge for an hour, things would not fall apart. Your sanity (and scalability of the business) depends on it.

Another aspect of leadership under pressure is managing interpersonal conflict and your own emotions. The Bear does not shy away from showing Carmy’s flaws as a leader, he yells at his staff, especially in that disastrous pre-order incident, and hurts people who are trying to help him. His passionate intensity sometimes verges into toxicity, echoing the abuse he endured in previous high-end kitchens. This hit me hard: in my worst moments of stress, have I ever unfairly snapped at my team? Watching Carmy apologize to Sydney and try to rebuild trust reminded me that being a leader means owning up to your mistakes and learning to control your temper. The show’s creator has said the kitchen is a pressure-cooker that reveals every character’s breaking points. For entrepreneurs, our “kitchen” might be an investor pitch, a crunch time before launch, or a financial crisis moments that test our emotional intelligence. We have to constantly work on staying calm, communicating clearly, and supporting our people especially when the heat is on. Leadership isn’t just about making the right business moves; it’s about setting the tone. Carmy eventually recognizes that screaming and chaos can’t be the norm, he strives to create a safer, more respectful environment than the one he came from. It’s a work in progress (for him and for many of us), but the effort matters. After all, a team’s culture and mental well-being flow from its leader. If we want our startup teams to be resilient and positive under pressure, we as leaders must model that behavior or at least acknowledge when we fall short and keep trying to improve.

Amid all the stress and sweat, The Bear ultimately shines a light on why anyone would endure such madness. Why subject yourself to 18-hour days, screaming matches, burn injuries (or in startups, all-nighters, financial uncertainty, constant rejection)? The answer, as the show eloquently illustrates, is passion or even more, a calling. Carmy and his crew are in the restaurant game because, deep down, they love it. The chaos is the price of doing what they truly care about. As one Psychology Today columnist noted, The Bear is “essentially a love poem” to the craft of cooking and to the resilience of entrepreneurs pursuing their calling. There’s a poignant scene where the brusque, cynical Richie (Carmy’s cousin) has an epiphany about why this work matters: it clicks for him that it’s not just a job, it’s a service and a quest for excellence and that giving it his all can actually mean something. He goes from a guy who’s just “tolerating” the job to someone who cares, who takes pride in polishing forks and delighting customers, because he’s found purpose in it. That transformation gave me goosebumps. It reminded me of team members I’ve seen fall in love with the mission of a project after initially just “doing a job.” When people find their “why”, the entire energy changes.

The show suggests that having a calling is both a blessing and a curse. It drives these characters to sacrifice a normal life, they give up sleep, stability, sometimes relationships (Carmy basically has no life outside of work and a budding romance even falters under the strain). As entrepreneurs, many of us can relate. The obsession to build something meaningful can consume you. It’s heavy to carry, but it’s also what propels you through the darkest times. Every main character in The Bear faces an internal struggle, doubt, fear, pride and overcomes it by reconnecting with why they’re there in the first place. The lesson for us: hold onto that core passion, especially when the going gets tough. In the finale of Season 2, as they’re about to open the new restaurant, there’s a sense that each person, Carmy, Sydney, Richie, Tina, Marcus has committed their heart and soul to this shared dream. It’s not just about making money or getting a Michelin star or proving something anymore; it’s about the love of the craft and the team they’ve become.

A beautiful takeaway that The Bear offers entrepreneurs is almost spiritual: find your purpose and let it fuel you. In one scene, a quote is paraphrased from poet Jean Cocteau: “Art is not a passion, but a priesthood.” The work these chefs do is portrayed as a vocation, something to be devoted to with every fiber of your being. Likewise, building a startup often isn’t just a job – it can feel like a mission you’re devoted to, almost called to do. When you approach it that way, the obstacles become part of a meaningful journey rather than just headaches. Moses Ma, a venture capitalist who wrote about The Bear, summed up several entrepreneurial principles inspired by the show: find your purpose, overcome your inner demons, embrace transformation, never stop learning, do what you love with all your heart, and dive in fully, right now, not later. I found that incredibly inspiring. It’s a reminder that success isn’t just about tactics or luck, but about mindset and heart. The Bear’s characters each have to let go of who they were to become who they’re meant to be whether it’s Sydney gaining confidence to lead, Richie discovering pride in service, or Carmy realizing he can’t do everything alone and needs to heal internally. As entrepreneurs, we too are transformed by this process of building something from nothing. If we resist that personal growth, we stagnate; if we embrace it, we evolve into better leaders and better people.

In the end, The Bear drives home that excellence is a choice made every day, and it’s rooted in love for the work. There’s a line in the show (or perhaps just the feeling it leaves you with) that every second counts. Whether you’re flipping steaks or writing code, you have to be present and give it your best, because it matters. One article reflecting on the series put it perfectly: “It doesn’t matter if your dream is to start a restaurant or launch a high-tech startup... What matters is that you do it with all your heart and soul... every second counts.. I literally got chills reading that, because it rang so true. The passion that Carmy puts into a dish, tasting, tweaking, striving for that perfect balance is no different from a coder obsessing over elegant code or a founder iterating on a product design late into the night. It’s the pursuit of something great, fueled by love for the craft and the people you serve.

The Bear left me both entertained and oddly validated as a startup founder. Who knew a show about a ragtag restaurant crew could capture so many facets of entrepreneurship? Watching Carmy and his team fight, fail, learn, and ultimately strive for greatness reminded me why I do what I do. It’s messy, it’s exhausting, but it’s also exhilarating and filled with purpose. The next time I’m neck-deep in startup chaos, drowning in code bugs or investor demands, I’ll remember Carmy furiously chopping onions in that tiny kitchen, trying to keep it together, and I’ll hear that chorus of “Yes, chef!” echoing in my head. To me, that means “Yes, leader!” we’ve got this, we’re in it together.

Whether you’re cooking beef sandwiches or building the next big app, the ingredients for success have a lot in common: a clear vision balanced with adaptability, a team that trusts each other, the courage to change what isn’t working, the humility to seek help when you’re overwhelmed, and above all, an unwavering passion for your craft. The Bear serves as a brilliant metaphor for startup life, showing that behind every plate served (or product launched) there’s likely blood, sweat, and tears and it’s worth it.

So to all my fellow entrepreneurs and dreamers out there, I say this: Embrace the chaos, learn from every misstep, take care of yourself and your crew, and never lose sight of why you started in the first place. Lead with respect and heart, like Carmy learned to do, and your team will shout “Yes, Chef!” as they charge into battle with you. And when things get really hard, remember that you’re not alone, countless others are in their own kitchen nightmares, pushing through out of love for what they do. As The Bear shows, it’s that love – that calling – which turns a job into a joy, and pressure into purpose. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sudden urge to go cook something and then tackle my next startup challenge with renewed fire. Every second counts.

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