Not Just A Pretty Space
How working in a bar set me the f*ck up!
It’s 3:00am, a time I’m actually pretty well acquainted with. Partially because filming a TV show perpetually requires one to be “on” at ungodly hours, but also because, for a significant chunk of my life, I worked in the restaurant industry.
Cue audible gasps.
Most of you probably know me as that stylish, farmer-chic, designer on HGTV. The one with the cute carpenter brother and the even cuter butt.
*Curtsies*
And to that, I say…yup! That’s me!
But I’m going to be honest, I did it once upon a time. That career that is oh so shit upon, I was once incredibly devoted to, and wholly dependant on. To this day, I can confidently say that working in a bar until 4am most nights was one of the most stressful, intense, exciting, and exhausting gigs I’ve proudly been able to feature on my resume. And honestly, it’s not something I talk about much, because it’s not something I’m asked about. Don’t get me wrong - I LOVE being able to talk to you all about the best way to elevate your front porch during the harvest season, but I have a little more to say.
And I think, if you look around, you’ll find most bartenders do ;)
Especially in this day and age, servers and bartenders (and BOH staff, don’t even get me started) are crazy underrated workers. I’d argue service is a sport that requires gymnast-like balancing techniques, long-distance runner level endurance, and mother-of-four level patience. Bartending is kind of like being the “cool parent.”
“I’d rather you do it under my roof where I can keep an eye on you!”
That, and, a drunk adult’s intelligence level is often on par (or sometimes less than) that of an eight year old kid at a slumber party high on chocolate icing and cherry coke.
When I was working in the industry, I was doing it to support my then family of four. My husband was starting his business, and we had two little ones at home. We didn’t have much, so I worked as often as I could to provide the best life possible for my kiddos. And boy, did I f*cking work.
We couldn’t afford formula for the kids, so I breastfed. Which, as my fellow Mama Bears out there know, meant I pumped. A lot. And anyone who’s worked in a restaurant knows that “breaks” aren’t really a thing…are we putting two and two together?
You guessed it! Between serving tables, I pumped in the bathroom when I could, and stored my breast milk in the keg fridge. Glamorous lifestyle, I know. Next, I’d put my boobies away, slap on a smile, and absolutely nail (if I do say so myself) the fine, delicate art of working for tips.
Grinning through passive aggressive remarks, and grope-y, staring old dudes when your nipples are chaffing (and sometimes nearly leaking through your bra) was by no means the highlight of my professional career. But, honestly, it’s probably been one of the most important chapters. I’ve always had an incomparable work ethic. Pardon the humble brag, but growing up on a farm instilled that deep within me. However, the weirdly niche work ethic essential to succeeding in the restaurant biz is something that truly set me up for success. Pumping between serving customers, for better or for worse, taught me how to flick an internal switch, and be “on” when I need to be. I don’t know how the hell I’d maintain a TV show without that skill. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being a part of the HGTV family, but it can be exhausting. Reminding yourself to find the joy in your work when it gets hard is something the restaurant industry gifted me.
All this to say, I want to talk a little more about my past. I want to let you guys know that I’ve worked my butt off to get to where I am today. And that there is no f*cking shame in working as a server or bartender temporarily, or permanently! I faced a lot of judgement during my time in the industry, and I’m only recently realizing to what extent.
Work your butt off until you reach your goals. Whether they’re appearing on the big screen, or perfecting a Smoked Old-Fashioned, you’ve got this.
Oh, and tip your servers. Always!
