A Sisyphean Task and a Rare Reward

I love my job because… it's simple. My life was once a cacophony of people, places, and responsibilities. My day-to-day consisted of meaningless interactions where I would say “I’m good how are you?” at least twelve times a day. I was a bright-eyed bushy-tailed twenty-one-year-old who was ready to take on the world; I genuinely thought I had it all figured out too. I was working as a waitress at a very popular breakfast eatery in a town that’s best known for cow manure. I really wish I was joking, but that is how I identified where I lived to people who wanted to visit.

Now I am 23, in a committed relationship that I want to last until my dying breaths and tired eyes go. Perhaps most importantly, I have a 9-month-old daughter. She is everything, absolutely everything. Not a day goes by that I don’t look at her and thank every god that there might be that she exists. She’s not my job though. She is my sunshine, my light, but by no means an obligation. I took on the role of her protector, her mom from the moment I looked into her eyes. From the first kick to the first breath.

My job is to keep her happy, to keep her alive, and to do that money is a necessity. Sadly, enough you don’t earn money by staying home and cuddling with your baby, in a perfect world, right? So instead, 20-30 hours a week I bartend downtown. Inherently bartending is not an important job. It is difficult and messy, and the people tend to lean that way too. However, I have found in my time behind the bar that it is about more than serving someone a drink. It's about the moments where they can find their peace and take a break from their life. Not to say that I want to support alcoholism or those suffering from it, but I understand those who feel like there is nowhere else to go sometimes. That there are days where life is too heavy, too Sisyphean.

Take for example a stranger I met last week. She was younger, mid-twenties, pretty. She came in and looked sad, the kind of sad where you can tell it’s been a long week. She walks over, sits at the bar, and orders a drink. She’s smiling of course, because that’s what people do. She was quiet for a while until someone sat next to her. Over the course of thirty minutes, I saw both parties laugh and share stories. I saw her smile become lighter, more real. I only served that girl two drinks, but she left happy.

I love my job because it gives people an escape, not through a beer or a cocktail, but an experience. It gives people the chance to socialize, even in these trying times, in small doses whenever they feel like the world is turning against them. I know this because I was one of those people, I sat on that stool and contemplated if I was happy and the only thing that would make me stop thinking about it for a moment was hearing the joy that surrounded me.

I do what I do for my daughter. If I could stay home 1000% of the time I would, but I can’t. I go to work every day and deal with those who may not be as sweet or well-intentioned. I stay up till all hours of the night and clean a place over and over again until I inevitably make it dirty the next day. I love making those around me happy, and my only responsibility from this day on is her. I may not have found a career bartending, but I found a relief, I found a way to connect with those around me. I couldn’t ask for anything else.