Taking Responsibility

Sometimes, my job makes me sad.

The great majority of the customers that come into our store in the mornings are hard-core alcoholics. Some come in as soon as we open to get their fix. Most have shaky hands. Most buy cheap vodka. All are friendly.

That is ultimately what breaks my heart: they are friendly. I would guess that we probably have as much of a relationship as they do with some members of their families. We talk about the weather, sports, news, travel. We never ask their names. I feel very guilty sometimes that I never ask their names, but that might make it harder for me to deal with. I don't want to personalize them more than "Danfield's guy" or "gin guy" or "horse woman." There is "pretty blueberry girl" that is only 23 and drinks Smirnoff minis in her car on the way home from work. The one man that we have named is Mr. Boston. He's a transplant from the Northeast, and can change the conversation to something centered around Boston in less than 10 seconds.

There is no state law that dictates how often customers can come in, but we cut people off at two visits per day. So, our regulars know that they need to come in the morning and in the afternoon and that's it. They also buy small bottles. That way, their intake is limited to what they have in front of them.

I wonder if my father went to the same store every day, or if he went to different ones. He drank a fifth of vodka every day or so for many, many years. Did they know him by name, or was he "Gordon's guy?"

Ultimately, it's not our responsibility to worry about them, or even limit their intake. If we weren't there, they would get it from someone else. They can also choose not to drink. But, our business would suffer greatly if we didn't have so many regulars. So, we continue to buy the pints and minis and smile and try not to be heartbroken when we see the same people day in and day out. But, I still wish that people came in only because they wanted to enjoy a drink, not because they needed one.