Retrospecting

The service industry is fickle. Restaurant-hopping is common-place and relatively emotion-free. Most people pick up a job as a bartender, server, busser, or host to make a little extra cash while in school. Some like it so much they stick with it, year after year. Even after their "real" jobs kick in, or they discover their passion, or start going to grad school. Even when this is the case, a serving job can seem pretty interchangeable.

Today is my last day with BridgePort. I've been with them for almost four years. That seems a lifetime to me-- and most of my generation, I’d bet.

I've worked for four different restaurants. They all had their ups and downs.

McMenamins Grand Lodge was my first job in the service industry. I had just came back from studying in Northern Ireland my junior year of college and needed money. I served, bartended, cooked, worked in the wine bar, managed... as all you know who have worked at a McMenamins (1/2 of Portland? Probably a pretty accurate guess), they don't require a certain skill. If you're passable in one aspect of serving, you're in. It was a great place to start, only to see how not to run and manage a restaurant. Everything there, and at every other location, is so cluster-fucky that there is almost no possible way for you to give good service.
It was loads of fun working there though. An old Masonic lodge with a movie theater, soaking pool, 5 different bars, and huge green grounds where you could watch the most ridiculous weddings. (One had Moulin Rouge be their soundtrack for their entire reception. Kid you not.) I was there for almost 2 years.
I left for the world of non-profit and children in Connecticut, followed by a stint in San Diego. Both jobs intense and draining. Moved back to Oregon and back to the Service Industry.

McCall’s on the bank of the Willamette River had the worst owners you could ask for. Tim and Laurie, the owners, bought their food in bulk from Costco. The nachos were made with dehydrated beans. Tim threatened teenagers in the parking lot with a baseball bat. On a regular basis. He would also drink several frozen slushie-type drinks, heavy on the booze, and then start slurring his words and start ordering everyone around, even the guests.

But the people I met there were some of the nicest people I've ever worked with. I helped open this one. That means that you get to know everyone so well because you spend one or two weeks in orientation, putting the restaurant together, taking classes, learning the menu, sampling the drinks and basically bonding. One of the girls, in fact, is my beloved Ingrid who was my roommate this past year.

That job lasted about four months. The funny thing is, out of a new staff of 15, I lasted the longest.


On Deck Sports Bar? Not much better.
It was so bad that every single server there cried at least once. I helped open this one too. A sports bar in the Pearl District doesn't attract sports fans so much as it attracts douche bags. Big, obnoxious loud D-bags.
Customers would regularly yell in your face. Some would bring their stupid little sports whistles and blow it at you when they wanted another Bud Light, extra lime.
The sections were so unrealistically big that we would spend entire shifts literally running. One busy summer day I had the entire 1/2 of the restaurant--about 35 tables, all full, not to mention a 20-top reservation that was just standing around drinking. That memory still gives me nightmares. (Though I did make bank that day. $400. Holy shit.)

I made it here about a year, and my only saving grace was my good friends I met here. Joette, Erin, Kirsten, Anna, Ivy... I'm still incredibly close with each of them. They're my ladies. We had a blast drinking "diet sodas" every night--crown and diet, or sometimes 3-olive Cherry Vodka and diet. We would start drinking towards the end of our shift, and continue on after work til last call. Last Call in Oregon is 2:30am. We did this at least 6 days a week. When I left there, my liver rejoiced.

From On Deck I moved to BridgePort Brewpub. The oldest brewpub in Oregon, its doors had been closed for about a year doing an extensive remodel. They hired a huge crew of people, and we had to sit through an incredibly in-depth orientation process. We could tell how much work and love everyone had put into it. The knowledge and passion that our managers had was instilled into us from day one.
I loved working there. I hadn't felt such support from my place of employment in, well, ever. I happily waited tables and bartended.

(that's my good friend Jason bartending in this picture)

After almost two years, my good friend Laura approached me. She had transferred over to the BridgePort Ale House on Hawthorne about a year before as the Assistant Manager. She got promoted to General Manager and asked me to step into her recently vacated role.

I gladly accepted. Bye bye tip world and late nights, hello salary, hard work, benefits, and vacation hours.
I had a blast. I learned so much during the last two years. I learned about running a business, I learned mad office skills, learned how to communicate more effectively with people, how to interview people, how to tell someone in a nice way to work a little harder and stop filling the damn ketchup bottles when it's busy, I learned how to tell someone in a mean way to not complain quite so loud about your tips on the floor; but most of all I learned about myself.

I've grown so much with BridgePort. I've had an awesome time working here, and as I type this, I'm thinking about heading into my last day there. I have nothing but love for this place. The service industry is a mercurial beast, and I'm thankful I found a nice home within it for the last four years.