Or, what my stint as Bette Lynch taught me.

I’ve always wanted to work in a pub and, me being me, that desire quickly grew to running a pub and then, owning one. A pub with an award-winning menu and, oh, whilst I’m at it maybe throw in a few rooms and then “oh why not?” maybe move on to opening a fully-fledged hotel because, well, then I could have lots of rooms and a restaurant and a bar that sold cocktails. Dream big or go home, that’s my mantra.

Susie dressed as Bette Lynch in a leopard print dress, trying on perfume.

Side note - I bought the dress above specially to be like Bette Lynch from Coronation Street but actually only wore it on shift twice! Must dig it out coz I rather like it.

I’m pretty sure I fantasised about the life of a bartender/publican from a bizarrely early age but, it was when I was 23 and my new uber cool and stylish French friends, Sabine and Sandrine, were working at the Worlds End pub in Finsbury Park that the fire was lit. I yearned to be one of the cool ones, pulling pints, chatting with punters, flirting even, and just being wildly exotic with my French accent and… “je ne sais quoi”. Sigh. But I was a married mother of two, studying for my degree. My husband, their father, had a very stable job which supported all of us. In other words, I was in a different place in my life – the time for being wildly exotic and mysterious having long passed, and there wasn’t any need for the pocket money I would earn (though on reflection there probably was a need for the independence and the sense of self). And, more importantly, I had a huge aversion to vomit (I’ve only recently learned there is a word for that, emetophobia. And, according to my new friend and collaborator, ChatGPT, it’s a pretty common phobia – I’m not surprised) and was too scared to have to deal with that on a daily (yes, I know, kids are always puking).

A publican’s life was not for me.

Instead of my glittering career as a publican I continued on with my degree. Rather than doing drama, which was my real love at the time, I’d chosen a ‘sensible’ and boring degree. I thought it was the best choice for a responsible mother. Not that I stayed sensible for very long mind you - oh no… I embarked on a career in the music industry that ultimately brought me a lot of fun, and stress, and negative money (a story for another day) and doomed me, oddly, to a life of admin.

Fast forward many years, no longer in music and fully in admin, I was made redundant, the good kind, the jumping up and down for joy kind where you realise you can have some time off. Super bad timing though as it was just as we were going into Christmas 2020. My plan was to have a couple of months off, to regenerate after a year of pretty solid grind and a hell of a lot of stress and then to breeze into another job. Only, it didn’t work that way. We were in lockdown and facing the “will they, won’t they (cancel Christmas)”. I was to be host, if Christmas was on and as such those first few weeks of redundancy were spent in prep mode for a Christmas that was, in the end, cancelled. And then, I got sick. Sicker than I’ve ever been before. Sick enough that my son later told me he’d gone to bed one night wondering if I would still be alive the next day! Still dunno why he didn’t “y’know”, call a doctor or something!? Tee he. Yes, I got covid. And let me tell you, that thing was a BEAST. And it was scary. Having already known two people to have died by then and another to have been hospitalised, we knew this was no joke. I got through it, clearly, but I was ill for a long time and for weeks (maybe six or so) just walking round the block required an afternoon snooze. I remember being put forward for a job (I didn’t get) and being asked, in mid-February, to send in my CV which I needed to update, and I had to stall them because I couldn’t concentrate longer than half an hour without needing to have a sleep.

Losing my mojo

It went on to be more than a year before I got a full-time permanent job! I couldn’t even get short-term temp jobs doing the same, or lower level, work as I had been doing at the same university! Understandably, over that year my confidence was crushed.

In that time, I had a few sessions with a Careers Coach (something I’d recommend for anyone who is a bit lost) and out of that solidified the idea that I would finally start a magazine (beginning with this website) and, that I wanted to open restaurants and hotels. A bloody lofty idea for someone who’d never worked in hospitality. And then, I happened upon an event, which was for industry only, called “The Bartenders’ Dialogues” which was a series of panel discussions with legends of the drinks world. I managed to wangle my way into one of them and as I sat in the restaurant of the NoMad Hotel, in Covent Garden, surrounded by mixologists and brand ambassadors I was struck by a point that one of the panellists made which was that no matter where in the industry you wanted to work, in order to be successful you absolutely HAD to have experience on the floor. I left and headed straight to my local pub to ask for a job! Credit to the then manager, Dan, for giving a 49 year old bar tending virgin a job, and boy oh boy, was that the making of me!

The joy of the pub.

Horatio and Alex visiting me on my first night pulling pints.

I arrived at the pub a shadow of myself, feeling unwanted (an almost year of unsuccessfully applying for jobs will do that, bit like the current, and every, bout of online dating I’m doing) and dejected, and I left beginning to shine again. Happier in my skin, more at ease with my body, confident and with the knowledge that I could do new things and be okay. I also started to drink more, a fact I was very happy about. I love drinking but, over lockdown had become almost tee total – working at the pub didn’t turn me into a boozer particularly, but it did re-open the joy of sitting, drink in hand, chatting crap for hours on end. And, it introduced me to the amazing powers of coffee tequila – excellent for when you need a surge of energy*.

I’m a social animal really.

After the last couple of years we’d had I’d become a bit of a recluse and I’m sure I’d started to become unsocialised. As a bartender in a pub, you ARE the pub. You set the tone, you create the experience that your guests have and so I pushed myself to be friendly, to not be so shy, to be chatty, to be welcoming and quickly, that started to feel natural again.

Dan and me on Halloween - what a night that was!

I CAN do things.

I learned, or… I couldn’t ignore the evidence, that I was capable. The utter joy of doing something new, of challenging oneself and doing something slightly leftfield couldn’t be denied. I recommend it to everyone. The first time I was shown how to change a barrel I was so excited and the first time I successfully changed one on my own I was tickled pink. Before I knew it, I was showing other people how to do it!

Done really is better than perfect.

I’m a recovering perfectionist, a bit of a rule follower, and a bit of a worrier. When you’re working in a pub and it gets busy, you don’t have time for that – you have to pull pints, take payment, check the payment has gone through, and take the next order all at the same time – more or less. I was painfully slow when I started, but I didn’t make mistakes – glasses were put back in the correct place (I still maintain that spending slightly longer putting the glasses back ultimately speeds things up), and there were no unnoticed payments that didn’t go through. But at some point you have to let go of that and you have to just do your absolute best, but quickly – i.e., the speed at which you work is more important than getting everything right. That was a hard lesson to learn but it was good for me.

I’m sexy and I know it.

Well, not quite but, I did start to feel much easier in my body – before I started working at the pub I checked how much room there was behind the bar to see if I could fit behind it – true story. There was ample room. But when you’re back there and it’s busy and there are three of you reaching for glasses and pushing past each other to get to customers it doesn’t really matter, you’re all sort of in the way, not because of your body size but just…that’s the way it is. That really helped. And using my body, my body being useful, that helped. And having customers who found me attractive (I mean, maybe they didn’t but I felt like at least a few did… not in a bad way), that felt like a revelation. And working alongside people in their very early twenties and just, being in there with them, soaking up their energy, being fully accepted by them, was refreshing. I was reminded how incredible our youth are and how much we can learn from them.

Local boozers are important.

The reason I chose the pub I did was that I had recently been there on my own for a drink a few times and had felt really comfortable, just sitting reading my book or doing my knitting. It felt like a safe and welcoming space and that’s exactly what it was, not just for me but for an absolutely brilliant mix of locals, some of whom went every day and who had formed friendships that will clearly last a long time. One solo drinker owned up to me that that was the only time in their day when they saw other people. I’m not exaggerating when I say that it felt like a lifeline for some people. The pub was the heart of the community and for me, it opened up local friendships that a year on are still going and, having become disconnected from my local community once my children grew up and I started working fulltime, it gave me back a feeling of connection and belonging that is invaluable.

But all good things must come to an end (don’t see why though).

Though I loved it, as my as yet undiagnosed fibromyalgia began to really take hold it became clear that I couldn’t manage such a physically demanding job, and it is demanding. I took a temp job in an office and cut down my shifts and eventually, left altogether. Not only was I leaving the pub, but I was also leaving what had come to feel like home. And I felt as though I was leaving behind my hospitality dream (turned out I wasn’t but that is definitely not a story for now). I was gutted. But, I left the pub with a new-found love for and confidence in myself and a bit more of that zest for life I’ve always been known for. I also came away with a renewed appreciation for the art of hospitality, the power of human connection and the importance of creating and embracing opportunities, no matter how unexpected they may be.

Aww, some of the youths. What happy days.

I’ll always be thankful for the lessons I learned at The Shaftesbury Tavern – a real jewel of a place.

Something else I learnt - how to be a good customer...

Listen, there really is no way of asking for your pint to be filled to the top in a jokey way that doesn’t just sound like you’re an arse. Best to just say straight “would you fill it up please?”.
It sounds so obvious but, be polite, be patient – even as I write this, a year later, the industry is still in crisis. It’s very likely that the people serving you are new and are still finding their feet. Maybe, like me, they’ve never worked behind a bar/in a restaurant/in a hotel/whatever. I mean, you should be doing this anyway but if you keep that in mind, that’ll help keep you a joy to serve. And believe me, the people that are a joy get far better service – certainly from me. We hear it bandied about so much these days but seriously, just be kind.
Related to the point above, the staff aren’t being paid much – like, really not much at all. If you can’t be nice, at least don’t be a dick.
I always liked the customers who gave a nod of goodbye when they left. I get it that you’re not at the pub for our benefit but, it always felt good, after an evening of serving someone, when they acknowledged you on their departure.
Customers who brought their empty glasses back to the bar, and to the glasses collection area to boot, were my favourite. Granted, not all bar staff would agree with that, but I always thought it was a mark of a good customer.
It’s fun to have a chat with staff but don’t hog them all night and… remember that they can’t get away so, don’t be a bore or, if you know you are a bit of a bore (does anybody ever?), do be thoughtful and give staff a break from time to time.
Don’t click your fingers or wave money or a bank card to get attention – that doesn’t go down well. Usually, staff will get to you as soon as they’re able. I never realised that there’s rarely any down time when you’re a bartender, it might look like they’re not doing much but there are always jobs to be done. There’s so much cleaning!
Buy staff a drink from time to time or leave a tip. It’s not the be all and end all but it is really really appreciated.
When it’s closing time… just drink up and leave would you? That’d be amazing!

Last shift at The Shaftesbury. What a (joy) ride.

*Want to point out that this is written from the perspective of someone for whom alcohol is taken in moderation. If consuming alcohol is an issue for you, I do not suggest coffee tequila as an option for a surge of energy.

A toast to Second Acts: Reinventing yourself in your 40s and 50s.