A quick Google search this morning informed me there are somewhere between 400,000 to 500,000 bartenders currently at work in America. I’m not sure how this is even possible, but I’m impressed. That’s around the same amount of soldiers currently employed in all the branches of the military in this country (U.S. of A). If it ever came down to it, I think we’re all smart enough not to engage on a frontal attack. We’d be more stealthy and attack in the wee hours of the morning while the enemy is sleeping after we overserve them in our collective establishments.

The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics also tells me in order to become a bartender you need no formal education or previous experience and that there’s a short amount of on the job training to get you all started. All of this for a median income of just under $30,000 a year. Boy oh boy, it sounds so easy. If this is true, then why do so many mediocre cocktails exist in the world?

I suppose it sounds so easy because it is. I mean, all I have to do is put a 2:1 ratio of palatable rye whiskey to sweet vermouth in a glass, add a few dashes of bitters, stir the damn thing, put a cherry in a coupe glass and then pour it in and serve it right? Yes, actually. It’s that easy. But try to do it surrounded by people putting glasses away, servers pumping you full of stupid questions they should already know, guests in front of you also asking stupid questions, the occasional power move out of left field by a GM, food runners still not knowing the bar positions after ten plus years of employment, and general angst toward yourself for all the mistakes you’ve made in your life that have coalesced into a giant pre cancerous ball somewhere inside your body.

You want to go as fast as you can, but cannot. You’re literally in a confined space surrounded by glass. It’s a test to your nervous system to see how much bullshit and anxiety you can take in one night, five days a week. I hear people say to me all the time, “You’re so lucky to do this! You make drinks for a living!” Yes and no. First off, I can taste but can’t drink all night. I would get fired real quick. Second, anything cool that becomes a job is no longer cool. That said, I’m pretty lucky to not work in an office or sit on my ass all day. Creativity at Rustic is encouraged and I’ve been doing it so long I really have no one hanging over me. No boss really. The GMs over the years have been mostly harmless and have plenty of other things to keep then busy. They appreciate not having to bug me about anything. I mean, I’ve been doing it for so long I really know nothing else. I could never work anywhere else at this point. I think about this often. I dwell on what the hell I’m going to do for the next twenty plus years of employment. Shit, that’s still a hell of a long time.

Yeah, it’s another one of those mornings…But then, I go to the kid’s park for about two and a half hours and I’m filled not only with a better outlook on life but pure wisdom raining down from the heavens. I thought of this one today: There must be a yin to your yang. Without either you’ve only got a yin for your yin and a yang for your yang…