I started working in hospo as security, but it wasn’t all I did. I worked in most of the roles there are(some more successfully than others, I still can’t make a coffee to save my life), but there were some I enjoyed better than others.

One of the jobs that got a lot of stick, unfairly I think, was the glassie. I got taught to glassie at San Fran Bath House when they got left short handed on a big gig. It was a sink or swim situation. I was running around like mad man trying to grab every glass I could find, trying to get as many glasses back to the dish station as possible. The stacks of glasses were teetering precariously higher than my head, and WAY higher than I was able to control. Then I spent ages rinsing them out, stacking them into the trays, running them through the sterilizer and putting them away.

Then I learned the most important thing about being a good glassie. Don’t. Stop. Moving.

You don’t need to blitz(grab every single possible glass) the floor every time you go out. You just need to always be bringing more back and keeping the rhythm of glasses getting sterilized going. Otherwise you’ll be left standing around waiting for the tray to finish and that’s when the rest of the staff are going to start getting stressy.

The glassie is the early warning system for the bar. Because you’re constantly moving around the whole bar you can see where things might develop into a problem. You can keep the security staff appraised of potential problems or people screwing up. You can keep the bartenders up to date on who’s taking a deep breath and concentrating hard on looking sober just before they get to the bar, when actually they’re toast.

When you’re also doing stock control you start to learn how to anticipate what needs to be restocked. When you go round the floor and see lots of empty beer bottle you know it’s probably time to run to the chiller and grab a couple of boxes of those beers for the fridges. If there’s lots of short glasses with ice still in them, time to do an ice run. Lots of cocktails glasses? Check the dry store for the cocktail ingredients that are getting low.

The odds are you will never be properly appreciated for the work you do. ‘Cause if you’re doing a great job the people around you will never notice. It’s only when you aren’t doing a great job that they notice. But for all that it’s a satisfying job when you know you’ve done it well. And it can be a lot of fun if you let it be.

So hospo ain’t all fun and games.

Anyone who has worked for a decent amount of time in a busy bar knows that there is some parts that just get right up in your grill….and not really in a good way. Let’s name a couple shall we?

Firstly we have the bodily fluids.

The 3 P’s come first of course. Piss, Poo and Puke…. Then there’s blood, and then…well, the other stuff.

Now I realise that a night on the booze can affect the good ol hand-eye-coordination a bit, but quite often there’s just no excuse for the crap (literally) we have to clean up sometimes. It’s like all manners, personal hygiene and human decency is somehow forgotten once people are 5 drinks in… I mean hey, why piss in the toilet when you can write your name on the wall right? And when you’ve finished, be sure to remember to wash your hands, before ripping the dispenser off the wall and standing on it…cheers buddy.

Seriously the amount of damage I have seen inflicted on various innocent bar toilets is beyond belief. What the hell are people up to? You mange to use the bathroom at home without kicking it to smithereens or writing “Jenny loves cock” on the mirror don’t you? Who comes to a bar carrying a vivid anyway? Just because you weren’t hugged enough as a child doesn’t mean you can turn animal on entry. Some basic rules of common decency still apply!

Ok so I’m a little worked up about the toilet situation…. But in my defence, I have had to clean poo out of a urinal….twice. And as for puke….well in my hospo career I have scraped it off vinyl, carpet, wooden floors, stairs, out of sinks, bins, pot plants, wheelie bins, the ice bucket, and off my mate Dave.

I guess one positive outcome is I’ll be well prepared for fatherhood in that nothing a baby produces will compare to the “I drank 4 vodka cruisers of different colours before having a meat kebab and 4 black sambucca shots” chunder…. One look at that and a little bit of your soul quietly heads to the nearest cliff to jump off it.

So bodily fluids are definitely up there on the bartender hate list. But there’s plenty of other gripes that are universal.

Mainly it’s the little things… Emptying the ashtrays…. Removing gum from tables…wiping the walls or roof…. Emptying the rubbish…again…and again….and again…. Cutting the lemons and limes…. Refilling the juices… Moving the kegs…. Cleaning the dishwasher….

But I think for me it’s the cardboard. So. Much. Cardboard.

Big boxes, small boxes, medium sized, weirdly shaped boxes, those divider thingees, craft beer boxes that are all “crafty” and small with tucked in bits you have to unravel. Those fruit boxes that are made of the really hard, jagged cardboard, cardboard fricken cardboard…

Or that joyous moment when you get a box of beer, you open it, and inside the box, is little 4pk boxes…geez…let’s just individually wrap them next time shall we?

Anger rising.

Maybe it’s the job associated with the cardboard that brings the negative feeling rather than the cardboard itself. I mean, shoving endless beers into a fridge when it’s sunny outside isn’t exactly life changing stimulus. Oh great now I just got one of those cardboard cuts….you know the one that doesn’t really bleed at all, but still stings when you squeeze a lime…

Anger rising.

Right I’ve almost finished stocking, just one more box to deal with…oh shit, it’s damp on the bottom because one of the beers inside has broken… Must awkwardly attempt to carry the box to the fridge while holding bottom of box as beers start to fall out and avoiding broken glass. Dammit now we’re one beer short of a full row because of that broken one. I shouldn’t care, but I really do…

Anger still rising.

Ok stock done, apart from that one fricken bottle. Cardboard phase 2 begins…the tidying up of the cardboard. Firstly find one big box, then fold and insert all smaller boxes into it. Be sure to not be too cheeky and put too many smaller boxes into the bigger one, as the sides may split and spill the cardboard everywhere… Seriously that shit will really ruin your day, so easy does it soldier.

Anger rising.

Commencing phase 3… Carry cardboard to its home away from home next to or on top of the bins…which are out back or course, so get to door…transfer cardboard to one arm, awkwardly balance while trying to use swipe card and open door handle… Wait I should probably just put it down and do this.. Na, I got this… Shit, no I don’t… Fuck, cardboard is falling.. Door now open, cardboard all over the floor…prop door open with stool, tidy up cardboard….contemplate suicide.

Anger has risen. Hulk mode imminent.

Piss, poo and puke can be dealt with. Flush, mop, wipe and you’re good. It ain’t pleasant but after a few years in hospo you’re pretty much acclimatised to that stuff. But cardboard…. That never leaves you. So you’ve stocked the fridge and tidied up? Great work! Guess what’s up for tomorrow? More cardboard.

Cardboard always comes back. Luckily so do your workmates to give you a shot and tell you the story of last night when they almost got arrested after that party.

Anger subsiding….

I got home from the gym today and walked into my room. I stood in my doorway and just sort of looked around. My usual organized chaos could be seen, as well as some girly stuff…. A pink laptop, some clothes, girl products in the bathroom. These things don’t belong to me, they belong to a girl of course. A real live one. Who happens to be my girlfriend. I don’t mind having her stuff lying around because she’s totally awesome…..amazing in fact! Where did I meet this perfect creature you ask?

At work.

Yup, my girlfriend works with me…..actually she works for me. While I’m affectionately now known as “dirty ol boss”, our relationship is actually a serious fulfilling one that just keeps getting better and better. So nothing makes me prouder than being able to write this blog that hopefully breaks the stereotype of the fickle hospo worker who throws their affections around willy nilly.

As a hospo-for-lifer, I am more aware than most of how the industry can take over your life. It can be a sort of traction beam that just keeps sucking you back in again and again. It’s an addictive lifestyle, and a little bubble that can be hard to balance with a life outside of it. It can be especially hard to hold down a long term relationship with someone outside of the bar environment.

Sometimes I reminisce on my first years as a bartender, and I cringe a little. There I was, all young and stuff, on an epic ego trip because I was behind a bar, thinking it was all about me. Any young thing in a miniskirt who gave me a smile, I’d turn into some show-pony douchebag. When I did finally get into a long term relationship, quite often I would put the lifestyle first, to the detriment of my personal life. “Sorry girlfriend-at-the-time, I’m not going to stay in with you for a nice night in front of the TV, because whatshisname from that bar you don’t like is having drinks at that other bar you don’t like…. Yes I’m aware it’s a Monday night…”

This happened a lot, and I always chose hospo over the girlfriend. I could’ve taken her with me… But I didn’t. It was almost like I enjoyed living two lives. And as you would expect, the relationships started to suffer.

I know plenty of people who think hospo workers are flaky alcoholics who simply spend what little time they have left after drinking all day, sleeping with each other and everyone else, flitting from one casual fling to the next. Those people exist for sure….but they also exist at the law firm…and the accounting office…and the local gym…. And the library….And bloody well everywhere and everyone knows it. There’ll always be those people and they’re entitled to do what they want. And hey, we’ve all been there! I’m just here to tell you not to lump us all under the same banner, and that staff relations happen and can work in the hospitality industry.

Of course you gotta be smart about it. Bars are a fast paced, close knit environments and you don’t want a high school-esque drama blowing up in other peoples faces. But it’s the nature of the beast that you will form loyal bonds with your workmates, and if you like someone, you like someone dammit, and life’s too short. If it’s a genuine feeling, be an adult, admit it and own it. The trick is to continue being an adult once it starts! Every bar has a door at the front of it. That’s where you leave the personal stuff when you turn up for your shift. Work is work, and the rest ain’t. That’s the hardest thing to do when it’s with a workmate, but if you get it right, you’ll be loving both your work and personal life a whole lot more, and you’ll have one hell of a fun relationship too.

Two of my best mates in the world are a couple. They part-own and manage a very busy late night bar, and after many years together continue to have the most rock solid, unshakeable relationship I’ve ever seen. They still manage to out-drink and out-party most of their own staff and still run a tight ship. They’ve found the balance between work and play, and as a result they are happier and more successful. In fact, when I look around the people who are the most successful in the industry are the ones who have a life outside of it, and a proper relationship with a significant other.

I think of it a little like the scene in the movie Tropic Thunder, where Robert Downey Jr’s character tells Ben Stiller’s character: “never go full retard…” . When you’re young and start working in a bar, it’s very easy to go “full hospo” or “full retard”… And that’s cool. We all do it and you’re only young once. But if you want any longevity in the industry, not to mention your personal mental and physical health, a life outside of the bar is absolutely essential and ultimately vital for your progression as a human. The more things you do, the more life experience you have and the more interesting you become. Therefore the more willing you are to experiment in business, and the more relate-able you are to a wider range of customers and clients.

The hospitality industry is about creating an experience for others, but so is life! Maybe remember that next time you have to choose between the real world or the lifestyle…. So you might have to miss out on the random Monday night bender this week to chill with the girlfriend…but it’s hospo! So there’ll be another one tomorrow and the next day…and next Sunday…so you’re really not missing anything. Believe me you’ll thank yourself in the morning….and so will she.