Something I’ve felt like blogging about for a while is my experience working from when I was thirteen to when I was seventeen. For those years my family was in the pub business and I was never short of work. I would describe those years as formative and character building as it gave me a work ethic that I like to think I’ve carried with me since. For three years I wasn’t permitted to work behind the bar serving people so my work consisted mainly of collecting glasses, stock and moving kegs. I would do this for hours and at that age, the feeling of truly earning my own money was freeing beyond belief. By the time I turned sixteen I was finally able to serve people and that’s when I experienced real working hours.
Sometimes it was pressuring but mostly I was glad to have the work. It was most pressuring on busy nights and I will say that in that case working with family is sometimes a recipe for disaster. That’s not to say that it was all bad, it was only on particularly busy nights that we’d occasionally come to blows over frustration boiling over. We eventually left that business but I’ll always remember it fondly. The work kept me busy and kept my head on straight at an age where I definitely needed it to be
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