Soon after I lost my job in 2001, I returned to writing after two decades of absence. The last real writing I'd done was my pregnancy journal in 1981, when Andrea was born. Born out of a need to find a new job, and, really, a new kind of job, I started reflecting on jobs I'd had in the past, and what I'd learned from them. This piece was "born" in 2002 and published on Pearlsoup in 2003. With the recent demise of Pearlsoup, thought I'd republish it here.
Tending Bar
I learned to strive to be in the best in public school. Academics took center stage, but music, sports, and civic responsibility followed closely. College was definitively different. I still wanted to be the best, but now I was really learning to think logically, to plan, to evaluate, and not just to complete assignments. Europe after college was grand, and found me thinking, for the first time, that I was a citizen of this world, and not just an American.
The real world reared its ugly head when I began working after college. All right, I had this degree, and an offer from a prestigious firm. So what if the work was unfulfilling and I kept thinking, “Is this all there is?”. I took jobs where I could travel for the company and see the country. The country looked pretty much the same when viewed from a drab room in a local Hilton or Ramada Inn. Marriage would change that, and so I married and moved far from home. Still, there was this feeling of emptiness, of “not enough happening” in my life. All of those thoughts, and all of the time spent running in place on my career, ceased when I had my first child.
Now, responsible for something so much bigger than just me, than just my job or my marriage, I embarked upon the great sea of parenthood; and with my growth as a mother, my career took hold, and finally, finally, I began to climb the ladder, get the promotions, be the brilliant colleague. The next 20 years have been spent as a caretaker, albeit an important one. Work, family, home – they all come first before my personal growth, my own Renaissance.
And from where would the skills to create my “Renaissance” be drawn? Well, strangely enough, I find myself crediting much of my understanding, my ability to listen, to mentor, to see the world from more than one point of view to a part-time job I had in college. That’s right, I tended bar.
Each time I arrived for work, I became a student of human behavior. I saw the worst, I saw the saddest aspects of life. I saw the humor, the indifference, the tragedy of living only in the moment from behind that bar, drawing drafts of beer, fending off would-be suitors, trying to help everyone get through the night. Before that experience, I think I saw other people only as they wanted me to see them. I heard stories of joy, of degradation, of hopelessness. I think I met a lot of needs listening to those tales.
I learned to strive to be in the best in public school. Academics took center stage, but music, sports, and civic responsibility followed closely. College was definitively different. I still wanted to be the best, but now I was really learning to think logically, to plan, to evaluate, and not just to complete assignments. Europe after college was grand, and found me thinking, for the first time, that I was a citizen of this world, and not just an American.
The real world reared its ugly head when I began working after college. All right, I had this degree, and an offer from a prestigious firm. So what if the work was unfulfilling and I kept thinking, “Is this all there is?”. I took jobs where I could travel for the company and see the country. The country looked pretty much the same when viewed from a drab room in a local Hilton or Ramada Inn. Marriage would change that, and so I married and moved far from home. Still, there was this feeling of emptiness, of “not enough happening” in my life. All of those thoughts, and all of the time spent running in place on my career, ceased when I had my first child.
Now, responsible for something so much bigger than just me, than just my job or my marriage, I embarked upon the great sea of parenthood; and with my growth as a mother, my career took hold, and finally, finally, I began to climb the ladder, get the promotions, be the brilliant colleague. The next 20 years have been spent as a caretaker, albeit an important one. Work, family, home – they all come first before my personal growth, my own Renaissance.
And from where would the skills to create my “Renaissance” be drawn? Well, strangely enough, I find myself crediting much of my understanding, my ability to listen, to mentor, to see the world from more than one point of view to a part-time job I had in college. That’s right, I tended bar.
Each time I arrived for work, I became a student of human behavior. I saw the worst, I saw the saddest aspects of life. I saw the humor, the indifference, the tragedy of living only in the moment from behind that bar, drawing drafts of beer, fending off would-be suitors, trying to help everyone get through the night. Before that experience, I think I saw other people only as they wanted me to see them. I heard stories of joy, of degradation, of hopelessness. I think I met a lot of needs listening to those tales.
Often, asked for advice, I’d preface mine with, “Well, I’m 21, and I’ve never been anywhere,
but I’d say…..”. I never really knew if my advice worked out, didn’t work out, or was ignored. I never really needed to. I was a familiar face, an anchor, for the lonely, who didn’t quite know why they were there. I saw people embark on a lifetime of drinking beyond their capacities and capabilities, and the way they began to shrink away when those habits took hold.
I smelled the smoke, heard the guitars, kept my own counsel, shed some tears. Odd that, that foundation worked to give me a lifetime of understanding, in order to be there for the people who needed me. Was it a frivolous occupation? Perhaps, but the tips paid my rent, and my five senses tracked and kept the memories of how to handle people, without their knowing they needed to be handled. I’ve always looked back on my humble barkeep’s job with a grin, never stopping to think about what threads it wove into the experience that is my life. It may be that I make too much of what I learned there, but often I find that the human experience can be best felt in the strangest surroundings.
Quidrock 2002
"If you have a job without any aggravations, you don't have a job." ~Malcolm S. Forbes
but I’d say…..”. I never really knew if my advice worked out, didn’t work out, or was ignored. I never really needed to. I was a familiar face, an anchor, for the lonely, who didn’t quite know why they were there. I saw people embark on a lifetime of drinking beyond their capacities and capabilities, and the way they began to shrink away when those habits took hold.
I smelled the smoke, heard the guitars, kept my own counsel, shed some tears. Odd that, that foundation worked to give me a lifetime of understanding, in order to be there for the people who needed me. Was it a frivolous occupation? Perhaps, but the tips paid my rent, and my five senses tracked and kept the memories of how to handle people, without their knowing they needed to be handled. I’ve always looked back on my humble barkeep’s job with a grin, never stopping to think about what threads it wove into the experience that is my life. It may be that I make too much of what I learned there, but often I find that the human experience can be best felt in the strangest surroundings.
Quidrock 2002
"If you have a job without any aggravations, you don't have a job." ~Malcolm S. Forbes
