Working in the service industry is the pits sometimes. Long days, long nights. Bad customers, bad co-workers. Low tips, low morale. Tyrant bosses, tyrannical company. Short breaks, shorter fuses. Really, it's lousy.
So we drink. We leave and go straight to the bar, because god knows if we go home, we ain't going back out. We've got our regular drinks, our regular bars, our regular bartenders. We find solace in the crowd, the camaraderie, the fellow service industry captives. We bitch about our particular jobs, our jobs in general, people in general, working in general. Another pint down, more bitching. We feel better! Our friends understand how fucking miserable it is! Yeah, another round, but only one more because we have to work in the morning.
Three hours and seven drinks later, it doesn't fucking matter if we work in the morning, we can all do this job drunk, right?
Five hours later, we realize that yeah, we can do this job drunk, but hungover is a much different story. Hungover bartending? Barf. Hungover serving? Sick. Hungover cooking? Gag. That was a fucking mistake. Why did we think that staying out was such a great idea? We should have taken that ride home when it was offered, refused that third beer and just gone home. The companionship of others going through the same trials that we do is just such a fucking relief sometimes. And our other friends certainly do not hold the same hours that we do, so why not? Let loose! Don't even think about that horrible boss, that fucking bitch of a customer. Enjoy friendship, smiles, love, and fun!
Why do we drink in the service industry?
Because it's fucking necessary, that's why.
i amend this to mention that there are a multitude of service industry positions that do not necessarily drive one to the bottle, but those who hold such employment are terribly lucky.
ReplyDeleteI want to leave a comment because I want you to know that I read this and thought about it. Ya know, when I'm not working in the service industry, I barely ever drink. It's tough. At the end of the night you're sore. You just ran miles while carrying heavy, awkwardly shaped things. You just had hundreds of meaningless human interactions. Your heart rate is so fast, you can't just go home and sleep. Drinking is cheaper than therapy and when done in this sort of situation, probably more affective.
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