The cook who fights you is easy. You know where he stands. You can coach him, document him, send him home, and if it comes to it, part ways. There's clarity in a fight.
The hard one is the person who says yes, chef, to everything.
Yes, chef, I'll be on station. Yes, chef, I'll run pre-shift. Yes, chef, the coolers will be reorganized by Friday. Perfect posture, right words, no pushback. And then you walk the floor and they're not on station. The pre-shift happened only because you stood there for it. The cooler looks the same as it did last week.
Not defiance. Just a quiet second agenda you can't pin down.
In the beginning I give the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they're overwhelmed. New building, new systems, new boss, that's real. So I ask. I watch. I bring in extra hands to take the pressure off and see what they do with the room. And sometimes what I find out is that they're not overwhelmed at all. They just don't want to do the job they were hired to do. They're looking for the version of the role where somebody else cooks.
There is no such version. If your cooks can't cook, you cook. If your kitchen can't run without you on the floor, you're on the floor. You lead from the station until you've built people who can hold it without you. That's the job. That was always the job.
So here's what I've learned to do with the yes, chef. Stop asking for agreement. Ask for evidence.
Don't ask "Will you be on station?" Ask "Walk me through yesterday's service." Don't ask "Did you reorganize the walk-in?" Open the door. Don't take the word. Take the walk.
And give it a fair shake. A real one. A full week of trying to reel someone in, side by side, before you decide. People surprise you. But when the week is over and the evidence is the same, believe the evidence. Yes, chef, is a courtesy. It is not a result.