COVID Juice. Photo by Nathan Dumlao, Unsplash.
By Chelsea White
In the service industry, there will always come a moment when you have too many guests, too many drinks to make, too much food to run. Table one needs more ketchup, table two was just seated and needs to be greeted and have waters dropped off, and booth four needs their check so they can leave, (and then that table can get seated again, perpetuating the cycle).
Meanwhile, you’re stuck at table six giving the equivalent of a Ph.D. dissertation on the two different types of stout beers you have on draft. Inevitably, they’ll order an IPA instead. In this moment, you’ll have an out-of-body experience, where you float above your panicked, adrenaline-filled body and realize, “I’m in the weeds. And I may never make it out.”
Then your shift ends, you’re out of the weeds, you count your money and laugh at the ridiculousness of your day. Or you go home and curl up in a tiny ball and rail at your loved ones for a bit and then laugh at the ridiculousness of your day.
Regardless, all the frantic racing around, the juggling of a million thoughts and requests bouncing around in your mind, they eventually melt away ⸺ until the next time, of course. And there will always be a next time.
When I began writing this column, I didn’t fully appreciate the multitude of parallels I would be able to draw between life and the service industry. I didn’t realize until recently how many lessons I’ve learned from my career that have served me so well in my daily jaunts into the world.
But this is a big one to me: we all end up in the weeds in our lives. Admittedly, these moments typically last longer than one 8- to 12-hour shift, but the concept is sound. Who hasn’t needed to get their car in for an oil change, get to work on time, meet a deadline, get the dog to the vet or the kids to the doctor and still figure out what’s for dinner?
Even more so are the big moments that seem to pile on all at once. I navigated filing for a divorce on my own while entering a pandemic, being unemployed, and supporting my children. I was most decidedly in the weeds then. That shift is finally over, and for the moment, my problems aren’t overwhelming. Everything is a season, though, so I’m sure at some point my shifts of being weeded won’t just be confined to work again.
The problem with being in the weeds is that it’s so incredibly difficult to remind yourself that this state can’t last forever. It feels like an eternity in the moment; truly, it feels like it will never end. In the middle of the most brutal of shifts, I have looked around and thought in disbelief to myself, “This is it. I live here now, in this unending loop of a moment. There is no blood left in my veins, only adrenaline, coffee and despair.” (We service industry folks do tend toward the dramatic from time to time.)
I rarely manage to convince myself that it will all be over eventually. Honestly, I don’t even know if it would help if I could, because it wouldn’t change that, in that moment, my hair is on fire and the world is burning down around me. (Dramatic, remember?)
I guess the ultimate point to all of this is that I may not gain peace from the knowledge that the hard moments end eventually, but at some point, I DO gain peace. I’m usually tired and sore, but I walk away a little proud that I survived another shift.
I think we all walk away from our time in the weeds with varying levels of this feeling of accomplishment, and even if it seems like an impossible feat in the moment, maybe it’s something to find a glimmer of hope in. So, take it from this seasoned bartender: the shift always will end.
The Shifty
The Grey Ghost in Detroit has the perfect representation on their menu of what most of us service industry folks want in a cocktail: a can of beer, a shot of whiskey, and a slider. Sometimes when you’re tired, simplicity is best. For your beer, search out Altes, a classic lager from Detroit, and I recommend Bulleit Bourbon for your shot. Grill yourself a simple burger and practice a little self-care in the form of slightly unhealthy indulgence. Cheers!
Chelsea White grew up working in her parents’ former restaurant on Beaver Island. She’s been behind the bar on and off since she was 20 and is passionate about all things alcohol. When she’s not working or on the beach, you can find her homeschooling her daughters, dabbling in writing or experimenting with new cocktails at home.
