SINCE THE BUDGET, there have been many hateful and ill-informed comments over regarding the reduction in VAT for hospitality. As a restaurant owner, I felt compelled to write about it – perhaps as much for my own healing as for anyone else’s understanding.

The final straw came this weekend with a one-star review from a guest who felt we were overpriced and a “rip-off.” Ironically, the guest paid with a voucher, ordered two fish and chips, two desserts to take away, and two glasses of water – not even a paid beverage.

I run a small restaurant and bar in the beautiful townland of Carne / Our Lady’s Island. I was never meant to be here. Having worked in hotels all my life, owning my own business was never part of the plan - but life had other ideas, and here I am.

Behind the scenes

This is the reality of being a restaurant owner in 2025.

I work 70 hours a week, whether it’s on the restaurant floor, from my sitting room, or in the car – managing administration, marketing, emails, and everything else that keeps the doors open.

For the past two months, I’ve paid myself minimum wage per week – not because I’m saving, but because that’s all the business can realistically afford.

Before moving to Wexford, I worked as General Manager in four hotels, reaching what I thought was the pinnacle of my career earning more money than I ever imagined. But owning your own restaurant is a different world entirely.

Let me make it simple: For every €100 in sales, I pay out €93 to suppliers, staff, the council, and the government.

Here’s the breakdown:

• 40% – Cost of food and beverages
• 42% – Wages
• 5% – Utilities
• 6% – Overheads, insurance, rates, repairs, card commissions

As a local business owner, I regularly donate spot prizes to community fundraisers and local clubs.

As a restaurateur, I also wear many hats – psychologist, taxi driver, confidant, and friend.

My restaurant is a social hub – a place where people celebrate their happiest days and seek comfort on their hardest ones.

If it’s your birthday, I’ll buy you a drink, bring dessert, and sing to you. Sometimes I make pizzas or treats just because I want to. When there are no taxis available, I’ll drive you home.

On the other side of the counter, I employ up to 25 people at peak season – including many teenagers starting their first jobs. I suppose that makes me a teacher, mentor, and guidance counsellor too. I’m proud of my chefs, who are free to express their creativity and cook honest, beautiful food – earning a decent living and providing for their families.

Why I do what I do

People often ask me why I do this – why I keep going when the hours are long, the margins are thin, and the pressure never stops. The answer is simple: I love it.
I love hospitality. I love people.

I love the sense of connection that only comes from sharing food, conversation, and laughter around a table.

I do it because I believe that food brings people together – it creates memories, heals wounds, and reminds us of what really matters.

I do it because every day I get to make someone’s experience just a little better – whether it’s a family celebrating a birthday, a couple enjoying a date night, or someone dining alone who leaves feeling seen and cared for.

I do it because I’m proud to play a small part in the story of our community.

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I do it, too, because I want to build something lasting – a business that provides employment, teaches young people the value of hard work, and allows me, someday, to retire with a bit of comfort knowing I created something honest and worthwhile.

Hospitality isn’t just my job – it’s who I am.

Making the best of it

This isn’t a lucrative business. Many industries earn far higher net profits than the 7% if I’m lucky) that restaurants like mine achieve.

It’s certainly not for the faint-hearted. I’ve invested not only money but also my heart and soul to revive a business that had once closed its doors.

Do I believe the big corporations, chains, and hotel groups making millions in profit deserve a VAT reduction? No, I don’t. But that’s not my decision to make. What I can say, without guilt, is that I work like a dog to make an honest living – and I won’t apologise for that.

So, I look forward to welcoming you all to The Lobster Pot soon – for a drink, a meal, and hopefully a better understanding of what small hospitality means.

Unfortunately, our prices won’t be coming down. While I may benefit from the VAT reduction in nine months’ time, what’s given with one hand is taken away with the other – through wage increases, auto-enrolment, and, just last month, a 10% rise in energy costs.

Paul Behan is the owner of The Lobster Pot restaurant in Wexford. This piece was originally published by Paul on social media and is syndicated on The Journal with permission.