The Wobbly Wagon

I've got a little dilemma on my hands at work.

There is this guy, Skylar, who started as a busser and now works as a barback and, occasionally, as a waiter. He started working there at the same time as his fiancee, Kat, shortly after the two of them moved to Portland from the bay area about six months ago. They both had a very solid work ethic, were dependable and took direction well. They both learned quickly and were able to move from bussing positions to working as lunch waiters in a matter of three months or so.

Kat was extremely likable - very friendly, warm and with a very mellow demeanor. Skylar, while very bright and hardworking, was intensely serious and a little bit cocky. You can't take yourself too seriously when you work in restaurants. You just can't.

Both Kat and Skylar are clean and sober, Kat having been "a major stoner" (her words) and Skylar says that he had a serious alcohol problem and that his drug use couldn't exactly be described as dabbling.

Skylar attends the local community college and is pursuing a degree in substance abuse counseling and even volunteers a local substance abuse clinic. He is very adamant about this pursuit, with a fervor resembling that of a religious belief, and is frequently overheard spewing "facts about alcoholism" to other employees, solicited and otherwise.

Kat and Sylar had been a couple for nearly five years, found Buddhism together and went on the wagon together. While I've heard them tell some stories of their wild lives and their antics prior to life on the wagon, I don't recall them ever mentioning when exactly they hopped aboard the wagon or how difficult is was for either one of them to stay there. Often, at the end of their shifts, they would join other employees who were sitting up at my bar enjoying their "shift drink" (it's very common in restaurants for employees to get 1-3 free or reduced-price drinks at the end of a shift). Kat and Skylar would just drink water (and tons of it) while they conversed with others. Skylar has been known to initiate conversations about substance abuse while sitting at my bar alongside an employee who is happily enjoying a cold beer. I can see that this makes people uncomfortable despite their friendly smiles and nods.

Just less than a month ago, Kat broke up with Skylar and made the decision to move back to the bay area. Suffice to say, Skylar was devastated over this loss. A few nights later, Skylar decided to try an alcohol-free beer for the first time. He deemed it not so bad - we serve Paulaner Thomasbrau. By the following week, he was having two - instead of one - post-shift Paulaner. Some of the employees called him on this and he began to spew facts about alcohol-free beer and the crazy high number of them he'd need to consume in order to get legally drunk. A few days ago, Skylar was enjoying three Paulaners before calling it a day.

Skylar is very judgmental of those who drink, particularly of those who drink excessively. Although he is a very hard worker, I don't really enjoy having him work as a barback, as his judgmental energy permeates my bar and he is too serious to be working in the bar, where customers tend to be a little bit more laid back and appreciate a sense of humor or a quick wit. Alas, my favorite barback ever, Andy, is moving up in the restaurant world and getting more wait shifts. I miss Andy whenever Skylar is working - Andy sings while he is working and I never have to give him direction...he can practically read my mind - and that is an excellent quality in a barback.

Yesterday was the day that Kat left for San Francisco and Skylar showed up at work red-eyed and on the verge of slipping back into the sobs that had clearly consumed the earlier part of his day. When asked how he was doing, he replied, "not well." Prior to the start of his shift, he sat at my bar eating some soup and drinking a gallon of water. The piped in music played the song Baby Come Back by Player could be heard overhead. I wanted Calgon to take me away and, when it didn't, I found tasks I needed to complete that could be done away from the bar. I just really didn't want to get sucked into this sad, spiralling downward of yuck. Call me unsympathetic. Call me a bitch. I just don't have the space for it right now, particularly with regard to someone I barely feel lukewarm about.

Somehow, Skylar made it through his shift last night without a complete breakdown. Strong willed, that Skylar. All night, I was fearing his eventual plunk at one of my barstools and dreading that he'd up the ante and order a real beer instead of a near beer. Despite mentally willing him not to do this, I had to ponder in my head what I would do if this situation were to arise. Should I serve him the drink as I would anyone else? Should I refuse him? Or something in between? Or would that seem cowardly and wishywashy?

I eventually decided upon this: if he asks me for a drink, I will ask him if he's sure (but not in a judging way, more in a light-hearted way) and, if he says yes, I will serve him. After all, he is an adult; I am not his parent; I'm not really even a friend of his; if he's going to drink, he's going to drink and my denying him this right is not going to stop him altogether. It still made me feel uncomfortable.

Having worked in restaurants for many years, I've known a lot of people - both on and off the wagon and some who made a habit of hopping back and forth - who struggle with their own alcohol consumption and it's hard to watch them fuck up and it's hard to watch them struggle. I've watched folks give up alcohol and replace it with a different addiction - usually coffee or cigarettes, sometimes something a little stronger. But it didn't take me long to conclude that, while I was there for them as a friend, I would neither urge them to drink or invite them to a drinking environment (if I knew that they had a hard time being in that environment...some don't), nor would I go to great lengths to talk them out of drinking if they chose to, nor would I rescue their ass every time their drinking got them into personal or financial trouble. And, sadly, I've lost some friendships over this. Generally, though, that meant that we may have had little in common besides alcohol consumption and it was just as well. Others (like LL, whose ass I'd rescued numerous times before I gave that shit up - rescuing asses, not alcohol consumption), I really miss.

Well, much to my delight, Skylar enjoyed one - and only one - Paulaner after his shift last night. However, my hunch that his days on the wagon are numbered still looms. I just don't want to be the bartender who serves him that first drink...I'm hoping he has the smarts to go elsewhere if he must.