I worked in a pub while I was studying at university. It was good because I could work a lot of hours over the weekend and at nights while studying during the day.

Since leaving in 1996, I have been back there (for a beer, not to work) on only a few occaisions. There are a couple of things that I have learnt.

Firstly, nothing changes: I was amazed at the number of faces that are still going there (more worse for wear than when I worked there). I haven’t changed that much but most only a vague recollection of who I am, although I was their source of sustainance for 2 years. Probably a combination of time and alcohol. I remember them, and their favourite ale.

Secondly, people in bars all over the country are the same, only the faces are different. Every time I go into a bar I meet another Bob the car salesman that sneaks in for a quik beer on his way home, Fred the builder that has no life outside work and the pub, the old granny that comes in on pension day to blow the week’s pay on pokies, the has-been rugby player, the young know-it-all that thinks he’s fantastic (but will end up being the next Bob), the old guy that lived here for 60 years and reackons he owns 1/2 of the pub because of how much he has spent. (Names changed to protect the guilty).

Going to the pub for these people ‘do’. The publican is like their pimp: sending them out to work every day, where they make money that they gladly hand over to him at the end of the day.

The work suited me well but I’m glad I don’t work there any more. I’m even more glad I’m not Joe the ‘could have been if he didn’t blow it on beer’, whoring for the publican.