How finally managing my ADHD allowed me to fall back in love with hospitality.

I appreciate that most of this blog post is about how hard ADHD has made things for

me in hospitality, and if you are currently feeling this way, then bear with me. I

promise it can get better.

I grew up in the beautiful town of St Ives in Cornwall. With tourism and hospitality

being the backbone of the local economy, it was completely normal to find work in a

restaurant or hotel during the summer holidays. So that’s what I did, as a 15-year-old

fresh from finishing his GCSEs, armed with 20 copies of my CV in a plastic wallet

and only my school rugby captaincy and Head Boy credentials to persuade people to

give me a chance.

I was lucky enough to be offered a job as a café assistant at West Beach Café on

Porthmeor Beach. I immediately fell in love with the rush, the pace, the chaos -

queues stretching from the counter to the car park, thirsty beachgoers desperate for

their mid-afternoon caffeine fix. I returned summer after summer, taking on more and

more responsibility, falling even deeper in love with hospitality each year. The

adrenaline of service felt like a high. I became obsessed with coffee. Pouring the

perfect flat white with that pretty little heart in the middle and seeing the joy on

someone’s face as I turned it to face them, lit me up. In hindsight, my obsession with

coffee early on in my career was a classic ADHD hyperfixation, but I do still make a

pretty mean flat white today.

By my third summer, now a Supervisor awaiting A-Level results, I’d become “that

guy” people were surprised to learn was only 18. Still deeply in love with the job, I

watched managers and chefs come and go while I stayed, rooted. The day before

results day, I sat in a coffee shop with my mum (yes, even on days off I was café

hopping). I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted to study Sports Science and become a PE

teacher anymore. I wanted to work in hospitality.

My parents were hoteliers. They met working at a hotel in Bristol, moving to Cornwall

to work in another hotel when I was 3 years old. My dad was the GM; my mum

worked from home, assisting with HR, accounts, marketing, and admin, whilst also

looking after me. My dad regularly clocked 80+ hour weeks. I’d call him before

school just to say good morning. He’d often return long after I was in bed.

Still, he somehow showed up for everything, football, rugby, swimming, surf club,

athletics, school plays, parent’s evenings. He even got a special license to drive my

school minibus because the sports teacher was too young to be insured. Yet, some

days I wouldn’t see him at all. I remember once being late for him to pick me up from

the skatepark, and he told me off. I snapped back: “You’re always late home, why is

it okay for you but not for me?” I feel sick thinking I ever said that to him considering

how hard he was working to allow me to have a wonderful childhood. We were by no

means rich, but I never wanted for anything.

He died at 6pm on Monday 7th November 2011, from a cardiac arrest. This was due

to an underlying heart condition and not related to his workload. I was 14. My biggest

regret is never thanking him for working so incredibly hard to give me the life I had. I

didn’t fully understand until years later. Buried in hospitality burnout, I would wonder

how he did it all. As a Head of Department, not a GM, I was struggling to even look

after myself, let alone have a family, I realised at this point just how much he gave.

Back to that café conversation - my mum wasn’t sold. Having lived through the

hospitality industry of the 90s and early 2000s, she had good reason to be sceptical.

Long hours, low pay, high stress, and bullying were par for the course. Though the

industry has come a long way since, she hadn’t seen that change yet.

I told her about the International Hotel and Events Management course at Cardiff

Met, fewer entry requirements than Sports Science. If I didn’t get my grades, maybe

I’d switch. She brushed it off: “You’ll get your grades.”

Spoiler: I was one grade away from the official requirements, but Cardiff Met still let

me onto the Sports Science course. Bastards!

I moved to Cardiff, still dreaming of hospitality. if I still wanted it after graduation, I

had now decided to pursue a graduate scheme in Hotel Management. I just needed

to get through 3 years of Sports Science. First year flew by, I’d basically done the

content already during my A-levels. But second year? Hit me like a train. The work

mattered now, and I wasn’t engaged. After scraping by my second year, the thought

of my third and final year with an even larger workload and a 10,000+ word

dissertation to write on a topic I had lost interest in terrified me.

What do I do now? After a wave of impulsivity, I emailed the Hospitality Programme

Director and attempted to persuade them to allow me to switch courses. She said

yes. Based on my passion and prior industry experience, I was accepted into the

second year of the Hotel and Events course which meant I didn’t have to go all the

way back to first year.

Telling Mum I was switching courses was tough. This had always been the plan, go

to uni, do my degree and become a PE teacher. All I have ever wanted to do is make

her proud.

She is the person who also gave me everything, raised a grieving teenager single

handedly whilst simultaneously battling the immeasurable grief of losing her husband

at such a young age. She could see how upset I was to feel like I had let her down. By now, I think my Mum had realised that hospitality wasn’t a phase that I was going to grow out of, like when I wanted to be a professional skateboarder at around 12 years old. However,

she asked that I make her one promise. That I would take it seriously. No job-

hopping around Cornwall. That I went to the top, worked in only the best, high

standard establishments. And I had to win an Acorn Award. A dream that she had

when she was in the industry but gave up on to raise me. In essence, she was

making me promise to give it everything I had.

Second time around in university, I thrived. I actually went to lectures - even attended

some of my seminars (I did still have undiagnosed ADHD). I graduated with a first

and was named both Hospitality Student of the Year and School of Management

Student of the Year.

I did one last season at West, now Assistant Manager, before moving to The Manor

House Hotel in Castle Combe for a Graduate Manager role. It was incredibly hard to

leave Cornwall behind. But I knew The Exclusive Collection would offer some of the

best possible training.

I remember walking into The Manor House on my first day, everything felt sharp,

refined, luxurious, intimidating. But I felt ready. I felt like I belonged in a place that

expected excellence. That feeling stayed with me, and it drove me to constantly want

to prove myself.

Every time I achieved something, a promotion, a guest compliment, a successfully

run event it wasn’t just a line for my CV. It was personal. It chipped away at the

version of myself that thought he was “lazy” or “not serious.” But that voice never

truly went away. It lingered, resurfacing every time I forgot something or missed a

deadline. That’s the exhausting loop of undiagnosed ADHD: you feel like you’re

constantly on the brink of disappointing someone, even when you’re excelling.

I took every opportunity and was promoted within four months to Interim Assistant

Restaurant Manager in the Michelin-starred Bybrook. Post-lockdown, I became

Assistant Reception Manager. I loved the front-of-house energy. Solving problems,

making things happen - it was a different buzz from the restaurant, but just as

addictive.

Then I became F&B Manager. And that’s where the wheels started to come off.

I went from managing 9 people to 30. Two restaurants, a bar, afternoon tea,

breakfast, weddings and events. My role became about enabling others to deliver

service and managing costs, not delivering service myself.

My groundbreaking idea for filling rota gaps and saving on payroll costs? Cover the

shortfall myself. Praised and looked up to by my team for working long hours. My

own managers told me to find other solutions, that I needed to cut back. But if

anything, this fuelled me to try and prove them wrong. What do you know? You’re

only one of the most experienced GMs in the country. Funnily enough, my GM knew

better than I did. I burned out. Badly. Physically and mentally exhausted.

Admin was my downfall. My inbox overflowed. Tasks lingered. Rota planning

became an obsession. I’d spend hours finessing shifts and feel such a sense of pride

when I would send out the rota to my team. Only to receive a message 2 minutes

later telling me that I had forgotten someone had booked holiday for that week. Tiny

details unravelled everything.

Wine orders missed. Tasks forgotten. I was saved one time by one of our chefs who

just happened to be staying at our sister hotel. I had not ordered a specific wine for a

wedding, and he was staying there, they had enough in stock to spare me some to

see us through the wedding the next day. He graciously ferried 42 bottles back along

the M4 for me and delivered them to my house so that I could take them into work for

the wedding. I had proceeded to fall asleep and left him waiting outside with a boot

full of wine for half an hour. Sorry Ieuan!

I’d bury myself in service as a distraction and find that hit of dopamine that led to me

falling in love with hospitality in the first place. Even when a bout of sciatica made

standing and walking excruciatingly painful. My Ops Manager found me polishing

cutlery sat in a chair in the still room. He promptly sent me home. Two of our waiting

staff kindly carried me out to my car. I clocked 70+ hour weeks. But nothing got

done. HR said pulling me up on my lack of task completion felt like “kicking a puppy.”

I think they meant it kindly.

Eventually, I hit rock bottom. I couldn’t get out of bed on days off. I pushed back my

12pm starts to 2pm or 3pm I couldn’t face getting out of bed any earlier, I was

exhausted. I did absolutely nothing to help at home. Laundry? Only work clothes.

Ironing? My trusty crease-release spray became essential. Washing up? No chance.

Hoovering? Don’t make me laugh.

I don’t know why my partner, Anna stayed. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t. I

expected her to single handedly bear the physical and mental load of running our

household whilst also holding down a full-time marketing role herself.

Then, TikTok served me ADHD content. At first, I brushed it off. ADHD was for

“hyper” young boys. Not me. But symptom lists hit uncomfortably close to home.

Anna noticed too. After I used potentially having ADHD as an excuse one too many

times, she said: “If you really think you have it, do something about it.”

So, I booked a GP appointment. Referred to NHS services. Got a form. Never sent it

off. Classic.

I turned to private care. After an assessment, I was diagnosed: combined type

ADHD, both hyperactive and inattentive.

I sat in silence for about an hour after that call. Mourning a life that could have been

had I discovered this earlier. Maybe I’m not lazy or useless? Just wired differently.

In March 2024, I found out that I had been chosen to receive an Acorn Award and

would be recognised as one of The Caterer’s “30 under 30” in hospitality for 2024

because of the work I had done supporting local colleges with delivering their

Hospitality & Catering courses. I was ecstatic at this news. Remember the promise I

made my Mum earlier? I had done it. I imagine this is the hospitality equivalent of

having a football loving parent and receiving your international call up.

Not long after, I applied for the role of Deputy General Manager at THE PIG–in the

Cotswolds, due to open in September 2024. I’d always admired THE PIG brand.

How they were unapologetically guest and people focused and genuinely committed

to driving positive change in the industry. They weren’t just paying lip service to

buzzwords like “wellbeing” or “culture” - they lived it.

When I was offered the role in May, I was over the moon. This wasn’t just a new job.

It felt like a lifeline. A fresh start, a clean slate, and maybe a second chance at loving

the industry that had once meant so much to me.

I want to make it clear that my falling out of love with hospitality wasn’t any fault of

The Manor House. I was supported there. I was given opportunities and growth. But I

simply wasn’t equipped at that point to manage my ADHD and be an effective leader.

I was surviving, not thriving.

I started at THE PIG in August, three weeks before we opened. I arrived feeling

rejuvenated. I’d worked on myself. I had new systems, new routines, and a new

mindset all based around the fact that I had ADHD. Best of all, I had a blank page.

No one here knew the “old Gareth” who left emails unanswered and forgot things.

They only knew the version I was actively trying to become.

Things started well, I got things done on time, I integrated well into my new team.

However, the novelty of a new job and a new hotel soon began to wear off and I

found myself slipping into old habits, an unanswered email here, an uncompleted

task there.

I had also procrastinated on the required heart checks (thanks, Dad) required for me

to start stimulant medication for ADHD. I continued using ADHD as an excuse at

home. Until Anna called me out. Again. She had returned home from a weekend

away to find I had done absolutely nothing which needed to be done in the house

and instead had messed up our home which she had spent hours meticulously

cleaning before going away.

I got the tests done not long after this. All fine. I started Elvanse in November 2024.

30mg? Nothing. 40mg? Still nothing. 50mg? One day I found myself putting dishes

away automatically. No internal wrestling. No delay. Just doing. Yes, I do fully

appreciate how ridiculous that statement may sound to somebody without ADHD. I

cried on a dog walk that morning as my thoughts quietened for the first time in my

entire life and my mind didn’t feel like a browser with 74 different tabs open. “Anna, is

this what it feels like to be normal?”

I could reason. Focus. Act.

Eventually, I found my rhythm: 70mg Elvanse in the morning, plus a 5mg

dexamphetamine top-up in the afternoon. I wake naturally before my alarm. I'm in

bed before midnight. This had never happened before.

Work transformed. I use Outlook To Do for my tasks list and the Eisenhower Matrix

to prioritise them. Pomodoro timing finally works. Yes, I may have a ridiculous

number of notes in my phone, but at least I made the notes, so I won’t just forget

things.

I understand the extreme privilege I benefit from in being able to afford to seek out a

private diagnosis and prescriptions. I have very recently received my NHS shared

care agreement which was a big relief for my bank account.

Elvanse isn’t a magic pill that solves everything. I had to do a lot of work, and it took

a lot of trial and error to develop systems that work for me as an individual. It is

certainly not essential. I know of many people who prefer not to use ADHD

medication and have been able to improve the issues they face because of ADHD

solely by adapting the way they work to a way which best suits them.

I must also stress that I am by no means perfect and I still have to work very hard to

stay on top of my workload and ensure that I manage my ADHD effectively. I will still

slip up from time to time, but I have always valued progress over perfection.

Eventually, I shared my diagnosis with my Hotel Director, overcoming my deeply

ingrained fear or judgement or prejudice. I am so glad that I did. She responded

excellently. We explored what this meant for me, how this impacted me and how we

could work together to create a way of working that enabled me to be most effective.

Now, all delegated tasks are followed up via email with clear deadlines, “what and by

when.” That’s what I need to succeed.

We recently held a neurodivergence training with Shell from We Recover Loudly. It

aligned perfectly with THE PIG’s “bring your character” ethos. After the session, I

emailed Shell to say thank you. That email led to this blog. This training also allowed

me to feel empowered about my diagnosis and be candid about the fact that I have a

neurological difference which makes some things harder for me to do than others. I

hope that my openness may one day allow somebody to see that people with ADHD

can in fact be great managers and that they can achieve those things which they

believed were only available to others with typically functioning brains.

Looking back now, I realise that I hadn’t fallen out of love with hospitality. I’d fallen

out of love with myself and how my unmanaged brain made me feel.

Now that I understand how my brain works, I can honestly say: the hospitality

industry is made for people like me.

Writing this article has inspired me to share more of my stories of working in hospitality with ADHD.

My new blog ADHospitalityD can be found at ADHospitalityD.com and @adhospitalityd on Instagram. I share content that aims to help ADHD Hospitality Pros to thrive in their roles and how ADHD-Friendly Leaders can create environments that get the most out of their

neurodiverse team members.

Author

Gareth Rees

Acorn Award Winner and Graduate of the Master Innholder’s Aspiring Leadership Diploma, Gareth is currently the Deputy General Manager of THE-PIG-in The Cotswolds. After a diagnosis with ADHD in 2024, he has worked hard to develop systems that allow him to thrive in hospitality with ADHD. Gareth now wants to share his experiences with others to help them personally or to help leaders get the most from their neurodivergent team members through his blog, ADHospitalityD.