“My first marriage ended in divorce, I put part of that on the job.”

I’ve spent the last seventeen years busting my ass in a restaurant. An impressive feat considering that I’m only 33. I’ve worked back of house, front of house, and have done every job in each area. I’m used to it, the hours, the schedule, the fact that I may as well have a cot somewhere in the restaurant, or a hammock hanging where my desk is.

My first marriage ended in divorce, I put part of that on the job. Part of it is on my ex, a lot of it is on the fact that we never should’ve been together in the first place. She was a wreck, I was an enabler, and we made better drinking partners than we did spouses.

I’m engaged now (six years later) with a new house on the way, and truthfully I’m terrified. My wife to be and I have been together nearly four years, and have both been previously married.

She’s great, fantastic really, but the lifestyle does make things extremely difficult. She works a 9-5, Monday through Friday job. At first she couldn’t comprehend that someone would have to stay past their out time. Let alone four or five hours. She’s become more accepting of it, and does understand it a bit more. But it still tends to be a sticking point for her.

It’s a tough, because working in this industry is a sickness. I genuinely LOVE my job, and my career path. I mean there are times I hang around the restaurant and work on specials, for two weeks out, run the expo window, or hop onto a station, not because it’s necessarily needed, but because I want to. Again, I realize I’m a sick man.

How do I rationalize to someone I’m going to spend the rest of my life with (God willing) that there are days I’d rather work on food costing, menu planning, or simply cook, more than I want to come home and sit on the couch? It’s made easier by the fact that most days I am coming home to a dark house with a sleeping dog and better half.

That being said, there are some benefits to my loved ones. First, I always have top rate beer, wind, and liquor on hand. Holidays and parties are a big to do in my family, and often hosted at our house. Because of my skill set, and what I spend 50+ hours a week doing, our guests tend to eat exceedingly well.

On top of of this, I do my better half’s meal prep for half the cost, twice the food, and a hell of a lot better tasting than she can get from a service. And, I generally get it done fairly quick, freeing up some time for a nap on my day off.

“I ultimately don’t know how long my new found self control is going to last. That terrifies me.”

The biggest snag to the family, and relationships however, is the ease of access, and excess opportunity for mass consumption of alcohol. I’ve recently had to confront myself with some realities surrounding this:

• I’m not 20 anymore, there is nothing awesome about a man hurtling towards middle age stumbling around a bar with his friends at 2:30 in the morning.
• I’m a dick sober, so I tend to be an über schwanz when I’m drunk. Add a propensity for being defensive and argumentative, and you have the perfect recipe for alienating your fiancée (she is really a patient saint, and I don’t deserve her in the least bit…)
• The older I get, the worse my tolerance is. Especially after working all day, without having an actual meal (apparently four Red Bull, window fries here and there, and three dead chicken wings over a twelve hour period do not constitute a “meal.” No matter how much I protest otherwise.)
• My biggest downfall is a combination of alcohol and low impulse control. This is exacerbated by slamming IPAs, Rumpleminz, and Jameson like they were a Gatorade after a twenty mile run.
• I ultimately don’t know how long my new found self control is going to last. That terrifies me.

I’m two weeks dry, and as much as I hate to admit it (I’m a stereotypical restaurant lifer, I absolutely love to drink, and be drunk) I FEEL 100 times better. I’m fresher, sharper, and don’t wake up feeling like every cell in my body has gained sentience, and begun forming an orderly line to have their turn at punching me in the face. So that’s a plus.

“It’s a tough life for us, so imagine the toll it takes on our loved ones. If you have people who have stuck by you through this, take the time to thank them, let them know how appreciated they are, and that you love them.”

One thing I have realized (to cap this all off) is that being a restaurant lifer is less of a career, and more of a lifestyle. Long hours, low pay, high stress, taxing demands on your body and mind, physical and mental exhaustion, and addictive personality are all hallmarks of it. It’s a tough life for us, so imagine the toll it takes on our loved ones. If you have people who have stuck by you through this, take the time to thank them, let them know how appreciated they are, and that you love them.

Then, tell them to stop being so loud getting ready every morning when you’re trying to sleep. Unless they want a potato peeler buried in their foot. We had a long service, then came home, and binge watched Hulu, because we can’t turn our brains off after thinking 100 miles a minute all day.