This isn’t an account of my road to sobriety. I have days when I feel like that is a sidenote. I mean, not quite, but a little. Hindsight, and all. You get it. If the Universe is Mr. Miyagi, then sobriety is the “wax on, wax off”. I won’t see until later that it was part of a much bigger picture. And believe me, I would neglect the car waxing many many times over the next couple of years. Sometimes I would have myself convinced that it was a one off and the car would stay dirty forever now. That’s enough of that silly metaphor. I’m over it. Thanks for indulging me.
Bartenders still have this weird reputation, or stigma, or something. I hate to be so self-deprecating to say they are a dime a dozen, but they are a dime a dozen. And still, it’s a strange thing. They are still the cool kids. They are still the ones people brag about knowing or being friends with. The center of attention. The in crowd. Maybe it’s only in places I have lived and worked in. Idk. I never really understood it. However, being such a nerdy weirdo on the outside of anything cool my whole life, I fully embraced it and dove headfirst into the intoxicating and addictive persona and stayed there for years.
blahhhh…. I am such a hurry to get to the good stuff that I am already kind of boring myself with this part of the story!! Who cares really, about my systematic detachment from the person I was insisting I was?? It will all come back up in pieces regardless.
Let’s see. I think I need to add some details about the boyfriend. Who he is as person adds some context. My tolerance for bullshit was getting noticeably lower and lower. Joe is a huge pain in my ass. Doesn’t operate well in “polite” society. Never learned how to play nice. Filters, I suspect, have never existed. In a social and alcohol-soaked environment, such as the ones I worked in… well, I’ll just say he was reprimanded more times than I can count, by me mostly, for just generally being hard to get along with. Many times, perceived slights were just that, perceived. But then there were all the other times. My pride and my distorted values wouldn’t let me admit it, but he wasn’t always wrong in his assessment of situations or people. He was rude about it. Maybe unrefined and impolite about it is more accurate. But not wrong. In a world that only exists if everyone has signed off on the unspoken agreement that we all lie, we all fake, we all pretend we are someone else, we all pretend we don’t see it, and we all pretend to like each other… Man! He just didn’t make things easy for me….me, me, me!!
God! Joe is really fucking terrible at all those things! Again, I wouldn’t admit it and it just made me angry a lot, but I wished I could be more like that. Plus, he was always a threat to the imperfectly constructed house of cards I was living in. He just refused to even try to pretend to like people he didn’t like. When we stopped drinking together (with lots of slips) it got harder and harder for me to pretend, too.
That particular job didn’t last much longer. The abuses I was taking from a couple of individuals in the club, witnessed, reported, and documented, were being ignored by leadership. Joe was homicidal and I repeatedly talked him down. But, now with a clear head, I couldn’t ignore it myself anymore. To make matters worse, all the noise from the deep recesses of my soul, that something was amiss, seemed to be getting louder.
It will be different and much better at the next bar. I’m sure. I will find happiness in my work again. I will be able to silence the voice. Or at least Ican drown it out with the noise of live music, new “friends”, the sound of the mass slow suicide I witness and participate in every day… Damn! Did I just say that out loud? Not so easily silenced, that voice. I can’t even stop it from coming out of my fingers.
I did have fun. I did meet a lot of neat new people. I did make a lot of money. I did. I loved my coworkers. A couple of them I will keep as friends for as long as I am around. It felt good bartending again. I started drinking again. Joe was having a good time with some of these members, which was super cool! And horror stories could be told about bosses half as poisonous and vindictive and pathological as this one. Took me about three months to see it. I was riding a wave. I was just glad to be out of that last one. Out of the frying pan, and so on. I stayed though. A year and a half. Oh, the lies one will tell oneself and listen to, just to feel valued! Leadership in this club, just as drunk and impotent as the last, reassured me they saw everything and were doing everything they could to get rid of her. She got to me first. Found out I had filed a grievance with the commander and the executive board and let me know “it just wasn’t working out” two days later.
That is my story of woe. Jesus! I’m kinda rambling today. Thanks for sticking around. Sidenote: She was fired two weeks later and no one called me about a bartending position. Go figure!
I will be different and much better at the next bar. I’m sure. (Don’t you worry! My eyes are rolling harder than yours!!)
The point is…hahahahaha…. I am a slow learner at times. The voice of my soul was never silenced. That year and half I heard it. On the quiet days. I just shushed it until the busy ones, or drank until it went to sleep for a bit.
The Hermit's Lamp 