How Greece’s Labor Shortage in Tourism Is Forcing Hotels to Recruit Workers From Albania, Egypt, and Pakistan

Everything you need to know about the upcoming Greek summer can be found in the notice taped to the front of the Karyatis taverna, which is located just down the slope from the Acropolis. Chefs, waiters, and kitchen staff are needed. The kind of sign that used to fall within a week was handwritten and slightly crooked. This one has been there for some time.

The business is run by Dimitris Stathokostopoulos and his brother, who put it plainly. These jobs are simply no longer desired by Greeks. Even if the pay is comparable, they would prefer an office job with weekends off over spending their summer running plates between tables of sunburned tourists at midnight. The tourism industry appears to be genuinely caught off guard by how quickly the floor has fallen out, despite the fact that this generational shift has been building for years.

When you sit with them, the numbers are astounding. According to estimates published earlier this month by To Vima, about 90,000 tourism positions are anticipated to remain unfilled this season. Over 300,000 workers are required in the construction, manufacturing, hospitality, and agricultural sectors of the Greek economy. However, the nation recorded a record 36 million tourists in 2024, and predictions indicate that 2026 will be even busier. Last year, tourism generated €30.2 billion, or about 13% of GDP. The engine is the cause. Additionally, there aren’t enough hands to keep the engine running.

You can get a close-up look at the gap by strolling along a beach in Halkidiki. Last summer, Markos Kesidis, who owns a small hotel and a beach bar there, told reporters he needed twenty employees but was unable to find them. He was awaiting his own clients. You can still picture the proprietor himself carrying drinks across the sand because no one else would do it for the money he could afford.

In Greece, hotel salaries range from €950 to €1,000 per month, plus bonuses. That’s thin by European standards. It’s easier to understand why a 22-year-old tourism student named Katerina quit her five-star job in Halkidiki within a month when you consider the small staff housing, lack of air conditioning, and sometimes eight people per room. She told AFP that the situation was appalling. Not difficult. Sad.

As a result, recruiters are searching elsewhere. The Research Institute for Tourism was informed by nearly half of Greek hoteliers that they intended to fill over 28,000 positions with hires from outside the EU. Egypt and Athens signed a pilot agreement for seasonal work. Albanian laborers, who have long been the foundation of Greece’s unofficial labor market, are once again being courted. The recruitment maps continue to expand to include Syrians, Indians, Pakistanis, and Filipinos. According to Grigoris Tasios of the Halkidiki Hoteliers Association, a number of hotels in his area are currently partially staffed by immigrants from the Philippines and India.

A brief attempt was made to recruit from nearby refugee reception centers. At first, 100 people showed interest. In the end, ten were employed. Concerned about losing their spot in the centers at the end of the season, the others retreated. This particular detail reveals more about the complexities of Greek immigration policy than any official statement could.

The current situation appears to be more of a structural overhaul of who truly controls Greek tourism than a short-term labor shortage. Family-run tavernas, the cousin who waits tables in the summer, and hospitality are the cornerstones of the nation’s modern brand. That world is disappearing, to be replaced by a more global and transactional one. No one seems quite prepared to respond to the question of whether the new arrangement will last—that is, whether workers from Cairo or Karachi will continue to return season after season for a shared room and a thousand euros.