You hear that a lot lately, thanks to our current crazy-quilt economy, where little makes sense on paper right now.
At restaurants, parking lots don’t seem as full, yet wait times for tables are longer. Visitors are more likely to book last minute, and are fewer in number as you head farther north. Hotels are doing well, but restaurants are struggling to find workers and slashing hours to cope.
“We have hotels in one part of the state telling us they’re having incredible banner summers, and restaurants in that same area saying they can’t put together a staff to remain open,” said Matthew Lewis, chief executive of trade group Hospitality Maine. “And sometimes those calls come in the same day.”
So this summer has been a weird, wild, ride. Through the first five months of 2022, , Maine had the most robust recovery of tourism in the country, according to US Travel Association data, and spending in June was 6.9 percent ahead of 2019 levels. Yet Lewis hears every day from tourism-related businesses that are struggling, hard.
Victoria Reagan chatted with customers while she tended bar at the Pilot House in Kennebunkport in late August.Carlin Stiehl for The Boston Globe
Maine has its mainstays: the lobster rolls, the craggy coves, the prismatic sunsets. A dose of nostalgia and a sense that things here never really change. But this year, something is different. Summer is busy, but also unsettling. Hospitality businesses have had to contend with high gas prices, soaring food costs, and labor shortages fueled by the state’s unique demographic woes. Recession fears have both tourists and those who cater to them on edge. And there’s a sense, some say, that the last few years may have changed Maine permanently.
“There is no normal, there is no going back,” said Lewis. “It’s never going to look like it did before the pandemic.”
Pre-COVID, Vacationland was riding high. 2019 was Maine’s best tourism year ever. Then came 2020 — a wipeout — and 2021, when Mainers were just happy to welcome back visitors “from away,” as businesses got back on their feet.
2022 was supposed to be the summer when things were “normal” again.
But they’re not. And no one seems happy about it.
Industry insiders know to gird themselves for “Angry August,” a month when big crowds and high expectations can mean short fuses. This year, the frustration seems more pronounced. Earlier this year, 14 percent of visitors told the Maine Office of Tourism that customer service did not meet their expectations, a sizable jump from pre-COVID days. Some fear that the long lines and short staff might leave even more people less eager to return.
Still, people are coming. The Maine Turnpike reports traffic at pre-COVID levels for July and August. Tony Cameron, who heads the Maine Tourism Association, predicts a new record for revenue. But those numbers, he said, are deceptive.
“That doesn’t mean that the bottom line for the businesses is that much greater,” he said. “In some cases those thin margins are even narrower.”
Bob Schafer (left) and his twin, Bill, 83, had a beer at the Pilot House. The two, both Navy veterans, are cherished by locals at the restaurant. Carlin Stiehl for The Boston Globe
Just ask Kylie Raymond, co-owner of the Pilot House and the Spirit of Massachusetts floating restaurant in Kennebunkport.
“This year has been the toughest year,” she said during a brief break from one of the double shifts she’s been working six days a week. The Pilot House has only three kitchen staff to handle 800 seatings daily, so her parents, who retired after owning both places for three decades, are now back pulling shifts in the kitchen. Raymond used to stay open late night for all the locals who work in the industry; now she’s forced to close at 9 p.m.
“I feel bad for people coming into town that can’t get food after 9 aside from Domino’s,” she said, and worries that might keep people from coming back next year. “It’s like, hopefully, we don’t lose people, you know?”
Up and down the coast, it’s a similar story: Dinner in Portland? Book two weeks out. It’s a two-hour wait for a table in Wells. The traffic won’t let up in Ogunquit and Bar Harbor is overrun. The turnpike can’t find enough workers for its rest areas, while many restaurants are cutting back days and hours for lack of staff.
Or closing up entirely. After 29 years in business, Kerry Altiero decided to shut down his Rockland mainstay Cafe Miranda this summer when he couldn’t find staff to open for more than three days a week. Before COVID, the cafe was open seven days a week for a decade; now, he — and the Maine hospitality industry — are at a breaking point.
“There will be buckets of keys from my colleagues on bankers’ desks come the fall,” he lamented.
John Belyea, owner of Old Salt’s Pantry in Kennebunkport, said he used to employ eight to 10 workers every summer. Now he’s down to a staff of two. Carlin Stiehl for The Boston Globe
There are many factors, but staffing is the biggest, due in large part to Maine’s demographics. The state always had a large seasonal workforce. But Maine is also the oldest state in the country, meaning there aren’t enough younger people to accommodate the seasonal demand.
Right now, there are two job openings for every unemployed job-seeker, said Jessica Picard, a spokesperson for the Maine Department of Labor And securing visas for foreign workers, long a source of labor for tourism industries, has been a challenge.
Then there’s the housing crisis.
During the pandemic, out-of-towners flocked to Maine to work remotely, scooping up second homes and rental units. In 2021, the Maine Association of Realtors saw more sales than in any year since record-keeping began in 1998, and the median sales price jumped 17 percent.
“Maine quickly became a suburb of Boston, New York, and New Jersey,” said Dana Curtis, a real estate agent who sold 60 homes last year to people looking for a Maine getaway.
That means seasonal workers have fewer places to live. Rents have jumped 20 to 30 percent over the past two years, Curtis said. Lewis said he’s witnessed many situations where people moved to Maine to take a hospitality job, only to “go back to their boss, and say, ‘I can’t find suitable accommodation and I’m going back to where I came from.’ ”
Kylie Raymond, owner of the Pilot House, prepared food with Michael Somerset. The staff in the kitchen is down to three people at times, making the work rush hectic.Carlin Stiehl for The Boston Globe
All those factors are making it hard for hospitality workers such as 26-year-old Emma Couture, who recently returned to Maine after two years in Pittsburgh. In that time, rents in Portland had shot up — she used to pay $675 for a room, now rates start at $1,000 — so she spent eight months living in her parents’ basement while searching for an apartment. She found work as a nanny, but lost her parents’ health insurance when she turned 26, and grew so frustrated during her housing search that she applied for SNAP benefits and contemplated living in her car.
“Everything has turned into Airbnbs and seasonal rentals,” she said. “And the apartments that were affordable got gobbled up by millionaires who don’t live here.”
Couture finally found an apartment, but it’s 40 minutes from Portland. And despite being an eager young worker, she’s been avoiding seasonal work because she wants a full-time job in the service industry. So she has been applying for dishwashing and back bar gigs, but even those have been difficult to find, as she’s struggled to get the attention of overstretched managers.
“I feel like I’m going to be broke soon,” she said.
In the meantime, the tourists are here and some admit feeling slightly shortchanged too.
Kate Shields has been visiting Maine for years, but this summer found higher prices and spotty service.
“It’s $33.95 for a lobster roll box,” Shields said. “It’s totally worth every blessed cent, but a noticeable increase.” And the line to get it, she added, “was substantially longer.”
Shields plans to continue returning to Maine every summer. But she offered advice for people who might be making their first post-COVID visit. “You can be very happy to be back,” she said, “but you better temper your expectations.”
Kylie Raymond, owner of the Pilot House, rushed to check on the kitchen.Carlin Stiehl for The Boston Globe
Janelle Nanos can be reached at janelle.nanos@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @janellenanos.
