Really heavy hearts today, as we lose one of the biggest and most genuine hearts we’ve ever felt. Will always love cherish the good times shared. I wish I could give back the help and support your shared with me, but now I’ll have to pass it along and pay your great vibes forward. Love you, Brandon.

Really heavy hearts today, as we lose one of the biggest and most genuine hearts we’ve ever felt. Will always love cherish the good times shared. I wish I could give back the help and support your shared with me, but now I’ll have to pass it along and pay your great vibes forward. Love you, Brandon.

So…. if you’ve worked in restaraunts/bars before, you know and remember regulars. At the bar I’ve worked at for the last two years, we have many regulars. Through my tenure, there’s been one guy in particular. Bigger dude, big beard, oilfield guy. When he wasn’t at work, he was plopped down in a bar stool in our bar, running up a big tab and tipping well daily. I don’t remember when it happened, but all of the sudden, he wasn’t going to work anymore.

Everyday, he’s at the bar and after a month straight, he starts having us write down his tabs on sticky notes and assuring us he’d make good on it when he got back to work. Somewhere in there, he got ill and was told he had cerosis of the liver. This means “quit fucking drinking”. That was about 7 months ago.

He quit… for a bit. But after a while, he started having me sneak him secret shots in the bathroom. I felt wrong amd didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to piss this guy off. This guy, as he said himself, “has been paying our electric bill for years”. Which he probably has with his financial impact on daily sales. So he had me sneak him shots, and the others, til it was out in the open again that he was drinking regularly despite his diagnosis. After a few months, it didn’t feel wrong anymore, just normal again. Then came September.

Still no work for him, and an ungodly tab ran up, the man got sick again. On a Thursday, he was in the bar, “cutting back” by only having 4 or 5 shots of his beloved Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey. The next day, he was hospitalized. As you can guess, it didn’t look good.

But as a week or so went by, the man’s condition improved and he was moved from ICU to a regular room. He should be discharged soon, but he can’t drink again.

At least he has another chance.

But last night, it once again took a turn for the worse. A man, who this time last year, was making a small fortune working in Romania as an oilfield consultant, now lies in what will likely be his deathbed. His kidneys are shot, he is uninsured and is in need of a liver transplant. The odds of him living are slim to none.

He’s 32 years old. No wife, or kids. Just parents and siblings who are watching their son/brother slowly pass away. Because of his addiction to a poison, that became his life.

There’s still a chance of a miracle, but I’m braced and ready for one of the saddest experiences of my life. If any person has spent a bit of time in my bar, you know this person, and this is looking to be a long and painful process.

And on top of it all, I helped the process by being a bartender…. a poison salesman. I’ve made a living off of making drinks for people that aren’t good for them. The next events may prove too much for my morals and soul to endure. This is going to be a somber winter in the bar. And I don’t think I can hang in that place for the ride.