Yet again today a couple of guys visited the pub for the first time and stayed simply because it is the Plough. I can’t explain the eclectic evening or the mirth from two guys who have run pubs in the past as some of my locals provided their special brand of entertainment….
The nipper who once again espoused his business plan genius after being told to play pool using both hands and with the pool cue the correct way around deserves special mention for making us all laugh. Every drunk knows the right way to run a pub but it takes particular naivety to think that an alcoholic play school would be a good idea. Thanks for the advice though, consider it filed.
A debate over the location of a lager supplier today revealed that there are people who think that Cornwall is a town in Wales. The thought is more logical than it seems when you consider that in this instance Wales was believed to start ‘just across from Manchester’ and continue all around the coast to Brighton!
To the guy with the serious facial hair let me explain that is just the way that bloke greats people. For him it is normal to call you over and remind you that Movember is over and call you a hairy bastard. I know that this was the first time that you had met him but you get used to it, don’t consider him overly forward but just exceptionally open. You may think that being called a tight bastard for not buying your Mrs a drink was rude, but we think of it as affection and its one of the ways that we ensure you feel included in the experience that is the Plough.
I would just like to touch on the subject of tiredness, one that arises often in the pub. This point tends to arise at the end of the night when I am drawing proceedings to a close. People presume that I want to close because I am tired or that I wont stretch the hours because I am old. Firstly lets clear that one up, I will trade to my licensed hours if it makes business sense however allowing you to listen to an hours worth of loud music whilst nursing a warm beer does not make a good business case.
Now to the actual question of tiredness, am I tired? Well hell yes I am tired, I haven’t had a day off in over five months and my working week is a minimum 130 hours. I know its not ‘real’ work but I spend 13 hours a day behind the bar and still have to juggle suppliers, maintenance, accounting, cleaning and all the other details that keep the Plough alive. Christmas is a minefield of predicting demand, scheduling orders and balancing stock and that is before I decorate the pub, look at opening hours and work through it!
We all know that this is not an easy trade but it it takes it toll on the single man that is Gav it is, in truth, bloody hard. How tired am I? Its hard to measure something that is so subjective so I will just say that I am tired, most know that it takes something between germ warfare and total exhaustion for me to admit that I am tired. I am in fact exhausted and this is best evidenced by the astounding speed at which time is passing, I barely catch my breath at night and its time to get up, I barely get my orders in before the weekends passed and its time to start again, its just all so quick!
Don’t misunderstand me though, as I wade through the chaos that is trying to get the business properly established, the tone set and the rules developed I remain happy. This is a way of life that I love and that will power me through the fatigue that occasionally occurs or the exasperation at the sheer scale of the task ahead. This is a wonderful pub and she will continue to form important and lasting memories for those who respect and enjoy her. So when you wonder if I am tired because I have asked you to go home think on, yes I am tired but I was bloody exhausted when I opened up at 11 am where were you?