For Love or For Money?

What a bad shift taught me about true service.

I didn't expect a slow shift to hit me this hard.

My business coach was straight with me me early on: don't plan on pulling real income from Keg It® for 12-18 months. Everything goes back in. Everything grows.

I wasn't about to let my wife carry all the weight while I "built the dream," so I took a part-time serving job about a month ago. The local restaurant and bar felt like a good fit; super flexible hours, great people, and a cure for the social isolation that comes with working from home. (My three-year-old is great company, but he wasn't quite filling that gap as an adult male.)

It's been a blast But about ten days in I had a shift that made me question all of it.

This particular shift started slow. I stood there waiting for a table, and the longer I stood, the more anxious I got. 

After a while, I spotted a table that hadn't been served in what I thought was my section and jumped in.

While I was making their drinks, the place filled up fast. When I got back to drop them off, another server came over, clearly agitated, and told me I'd taken her table.

What I didn't know was while I was behind the bar, they'd redivided the floor into sections. I was working off of an old map. We normally cover that stuff in a pre-shift meeting, but there wasn't one that day.

Half an hour later I found out where I'd been moved to and by then, every table in my new section had been snapped up by that disgruntled server.

Everyone at 'my' tables had settled in for dinner. Nothing was turning over for at least an hour.

The one table I did have finished their drinks and then left.

I was stuck with nothing to do.

Like kings over their fiefdoms, the other servers were running their sections hard. Mine had been taken by an opportunistic neighbor during the confusion. I felt every second of it.

By that point, I'd been tracking my numbers. Tables per shift, average tip, dollars home... I knew what this was leading to. Standing there no one to serve, I stopped thinking about the guests and started thinking about the money I wasn't making.

My energy was out of whack. A table opened and I scrambled to get it ready. The couple that sat down were known for not tipping. I felt the wheels come off.

I was embarrassed, frustrated, and feeling sorry for myself.

Near the end of the night, though, I remembered something.

Earlier that week I listened to a homily about counterfeit happiness, the idea that we sometimes chase the wrong thing, telling ourselves it'll finally make us happy when we get it. The money. The milestone. In the chasing, we miss being happy right now with the wonderful life we've been given.

That hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water.

I'd been chasing the tips. Tying my whole mood to what I might make... and completely missing why I was there.

Something shifted.

I made a quiet decision: going forward, whatever tables I get I'm going to give them everything. Not for the tip. Just because they came here to have a good time, and that's something I can actually give them.

The calm came fast. I started smiling again.

I had two more tables that night. They were some of the most fun I'd had since I started. I was present. I was joking around. Actually serving them, not pushing my stress on them. I reckon they felt it. The tips at the end of the night reflected a lot more than just a meal.

Here's the thing about restaurants: most people aren't just there to eat something they didn't have to cook. If it was only about the calories, there's fast food for that. 

When people choose to go out, they want to feel welcome. They want the experience to be personal, not transactional.

The same is true for guys who buy a Keg It® Keg Kit.

They're not buying a kegerator. They're buying a reason to have the neighbors over.

They're buying draft beer that becomes the centerpiece of a Saturday afternoon barbecue with their buddies.

They're buying cocktails on tap that turn a Friday night into something worth celebrating.

As we get older, routines take over. The rat race sets in. The get-togethers (the ones that actually matter for our health and happiness) quietly disappear.

Making it easy and giving people a good reason to do it: that's what Keg It® is. That's what it was always supposed to be.

Those last two tables reminded me that when you do something from a place of genuine love, magic happens. It's more fun for them. It's more fun for you. The results, financial or otherwise, follow on their own.

I'm not in this to move units.

I'm in this to give men a reason to show up for each other.

Cheers,

Dallas

PS: The excuse doesn't matter. The gathering does. Check out the Keg It® Keg Kit here.