It is usually the case that the more you do something, the easier it gets. There is an aspect of bartending, however, that has not gotten any easier for me despite my tenure; In fact, it has gotten harder. As bartenders, we are often in the position of catering to vice. With every passing year, I seem to become more acutely aware of the different function I serve for different people. It is fun to fancy ourselves as entertainers, storytellers, and the keepers of an American tradition. It is not so fun to admit that we are also, in a certain capacity, enablers.

This issue has been particularly difficult for me, because I grew up in a small community culture of alcoholism. Truth be told, I did the majority of my drinking prior to reaching the legal age to do so. I often reflect on the paradox of how bartending saved me from addiction; For the first time, I saw the party from a sober perspective. Ouch. Change was in order.

I sometimes joke that, as bartenders, we are actually serial killers – proficient assassins delivering death slowly…so slowly, in fact, that we can rationalize our role away from culpability. The duality of our industry is sublime: I am a muse. I am a siren. ‘Responsible hospitality’ has, unfortunately, become a buzz phrase referring to isolated incidents of ceasing service to the customer who has obviously had too much. Tomorrow, however, that same customer will walk in - sober for the time being – until we, as bartenders, adjust our sights with a joke or a story, squeeze gently on the trigger of co-dependence, and once again bridge the gap between virtue and vice. We are cruel, torturous beings, are we not?