It had been more than five months since my last job in the industry. While I was enjoying time off from the bar scene I realized my student loans and E.I. wouldn’t cover my expenses forever. I bit the bullet and searched online for a part time bartending gig. A local brew pub was hiring so I emailed them a resume.
***
It was March 2020 and my life was chaotic and eventful. I was in my sixth semester since going back to university and I was finally getting exhausted of school. On the plus side, I’d met my girlfriend a few months ago and she brought some joy and stability to my existence. After years of dating and hooking up with questionable women in my industry it was nice to have someone who was kind, normal, loyal… and not addicted to cocaine!
As usual, the biggest hassles in my life related to money. I’d been living off student loans and E.I. after the bar I worked at closed. It was the second great place I’d worked at in two years to suffer this fate, so I was disillusioned at the time. “Figures the good places always shut down while the toxic ones survive,” I thought bitterly. This sentiment would be proven false though when countless restaurants were forced to close in subsequent years.
There are so many bad restaurants to work at that once you’ve found a great one it’s a good idea to stay put (as long as you make enough tips). I only enjoyed 15-30% of the bars I’ve worked at and realized the odds of finding an even tolerable bar this time weren’t encouraging. Thus, I wasn’t enthusiastic restarting my job search in early 2020.
In the past I’d usually apply in person whenever possible. You can scope out the place, make a good impression, and see how many hot girls work there. But at the time I was tired and cynical about the industry so I dragged my heels by looking for jobs online.
As usual, there were places that were always hiring. I’d actually worked at a few of them and was grateful the experiences were brief. These are the kind of restaurants where the culture is toxic, managers are unreasonable and blame their employees for everything, and owners wonder why staff turnaround is always an issue! I doubt the powers to be at such places have ever read a single book on leadership or seen an episode of Bar Rescue. Jon Taffer said it best, “the common denominator of all bad bar owners is excuses!”
I dismissed a few other restaurants based on their location, clientele, low prospects of tips, etc. But eventually one ad caught my eye. It was on the strip where most of the city’s nightclubs were but it had a great reputation. It was an independent brew pub with good food, live music, and people actually LOVED working there. Given I’d rather stick an icicle through my eye socket than work at most bars I’ve previously been at this was a plus. So I sent an updated resume, along with a decent cover letter to give me an edge over the majority of lazy millennial and Gen Z applicants.
***
A few days later I got a phone call from one of the managers, asking if I’d come in for an interview. I said “I’d love to” but I really didn’t… I just needed the money. But the guy was friendly and funny so I allowed myself some cautious optimism.
I don’t remember much of the interview due to the passage of time and it was one of the more relaxing ones I’ve had. By then I had mastered the art of restaurant interviews and knew exactly what to say and do. The only variables are knowing the relevant products, services, and culture of the places in question, and for once I’d researched this adequately.
It also helped the managers interviewing me were down to earth and actually liked their jobs. The man asked most of the questions and made jokes while the women analyzed me intently and asked more pointed questions. It was almost like good cop, bad cop, but the guy was so hilarious I felt at ease.
The only time I felt I’d made a mistake was when the woman asked, almost as an afterthought, “how do you deal with being micromanaged” at the end of the interview. This took me off guard and while like everyone else I HATE it told them what they wanted to hear, and that I was a veteran from the old days where work ethic and professionalism mattered.
Anyway, I left the bar relatively hopeful. The last question had surprised me but the vibes suggested I had a decent chance of success. Overall, the place had impressed me and people seemed happy. The manager phoned the next day. After saying my three references checked out he offered me the job. I was told to come in the next Tuesday, on March 17, 2020. I was annoyed having start on St. Patrick’s Day, among the busiest days of the year for the industry, but I thanked the man regardless.
***
While I wasn’t looking forward to rejoining the industry I knew it was a nice place and the money would be good. So I studied the drink and food menus, got familiar with their social media and pub events, and counted the days. But then something happened… something that would become “slightly” inconvenient for all of mankind.
In late 2019 a pandemic had broken out in China. Throughout the next months it spread across borders, oceans, and finally continents. Living in a landlocked region and assuming my government would enact proper policies in time to deal with the crisis, I was sure the Covid 19 virus wouldn’t come to my city. But I was wrong… dead wrong.
I’m not sure when the first cases hit my hometown but I know the day Covid restrictions came into effect.
I was walking into my new job for the first shift with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. I’d dressed casually as they had a loose code but I was proper, cheery, and presentable. As I walked up to the front door there was a written notice but I ignored it, assuming it was about a pub event. But as I climbed the stairs and entered the lounge I knew something was off.
Half of the tables were gone, they were erecting plastic barriers between them, and many people were wearing masks. “This was it I thought… Covid is here.” The manager saw me and waved me over. He was tired and in the middle of making the countless kind of decisions that sink or swim small businesses. He was nice and cheerful as always but gave it to me straight.
The restaurant had just been mandated by the government to enact Covid restrictions, which reduced business hours, employee shifts, and by default my job had ended before it begun. What could I do but smile and say I understand. He and his staff were about to lose so much money, tips, and part of their livelihood.
“It’s all good,” I said warmly, “maybe it won’t that long.” Unfortunately, the pandemic and most of the restrictions would last nearly two years.
***
I got home and pondered my next move. “Where the hell am I going to work,” I asked myself. Bryon got home in the early evening and asked me how my first shift went. “It lasted 5 minutes until I punched out a customer” I joked. “They let you go because of the Covid restrictions, right,” he continued. “Yaa…” I finished the exchange.
We both shrugged it off I’m sure, given the countless ups and downs we had in the industry. The last thing I remember that day was a story on the local news after the St. Patrick’s Day Parade was cancelled. In response, five drunk boomers and two cars made their own parade and it was clear they were all hammered (see the photo at the top). Bryon and I had a good cackle over that. We had no idea the industry was about to be hit by a longterm crisis from which it would barely recover.