What happened over the next 11 months is something I will never forget. I have always self admitted that I have been part of a particular social group, whether that being in a school, college or even uni. My friends are my friends, close to my heart. They are from various areas and if they were shoved together in a room, I'm not quite sure what exactly they'd say to one another. However, almost immediately I found myself part of this wonderful diverse group of people. Many students, but not all. I felt welcomed without having to prove myself first and honestly, it felt fantastic. Each person has their own individuality, we all had our definitions, yet together, somehow we worked. And so it went on for almost a year, people came and went but they always seemed to reappear demanding a cocktail when you were at your busiest, the buggers. I will be the first to admit that working behind a bar can be the most mind numbing, stressful and horrendous job you can ever encounter and I should know, I've worked in four of them. Each one different, but each one horribly similar in the level of grumpiness you slowly acquire. Your bitterness becomes most dominant when those awkward customers rattle your bones and you almost throw a drink at them. Of course you never do. You smile and do exactly as they say, which as all people in customer services know can be worse than throwing the darn drink. But despite all of this, this work team never let me get to that stage. I was calmed down and made to laugh until I was no longer bothered by a rude customer. Honestly, the entire place humbled me. Then, after a summer away and a new boss to befriend, the bank holidays started and life went back to normal. Till we got the news our bubble was going to burst in one month's time. I was being made redundant. My beautiful little job with my beautiful little pub friends would be gone forever. Life at The Botanical slowed down.
That last week was surreal. Slowly furniture started moving to different pubs in the area, signs were being erased, quizzes stopped, barrels ran dry. The whole place seemed lifeless. Then the last night happened. It was a Saturday and I was doing the day shift, slowly counting down on a tiny chalkboard my final remaining hours at the job I loved. When I finished I shoved my till key at my boss and ran out, crying as I left the back door. I slowly stopped being a girl, made myself up and headed out to celebrate the last ever night. And boy did we. All I remember is drinking Sambuca, which is in my opinion the liquid of the devil, repeatedly until I couldn't really stand still. The last song that Max the DJ played was an absolute classic, Take That - Never Forget. I turned around to sing and saw each member of staff slowly being lifted on top of the bar. I am not ashamed to say I joined them. I sang my absolute heart out cheering to all the customers, singing and waving my arms around as the choir grew louder. I am also not ashamed to say I was crying when the lights came up. Honestly, I don't think I will ever forget that moment. That night as I crawled in at 4am, I cried again. I honestly think if I wasn't forced out, I would have never left that building.
Now every day I walk past, the shell of a building that once was the greatest job I ever had. Honestly, my heart breaks a little each time. We could have rocked it. But instead it is simply remains. Yet no matter how bad of an opinion some people may have about it, I will always fight its case because to me, that pub taught me a lot and gave me some wonderful friendships. And as for them, well let's just say we claimed the champion title by finally taking part in our own relocated pub quiz. Nobody beats us, the Botan Clan.
That last week was surreal. Slowly furniture started moving to different pubs in the area, signs were being erased, quizzes stopped, barrels ran dry. The whole place seemed lifeless. Then the last night happened. It was a Saturday and I was doing the day shift, slowly counting down on a tiny chalkboard my final remaining hours at the job I loved. When I finished I shoved my till key at my boss and ran out, crying as I left the back door. I slowly stopped being a girl, made myself up and headed out to celebrate the last ever night. And boy did we. All I remember is drinking Sambuca, which is in my opinion the liquid of the devil, repeatedly until I couldn't really stand still. The last song that Max the DJ played was an absolute classic, Take That - Never Forget. I turned around to sing and saw each member of staff slowly being lifted on top of the bar. I am not ashamed to say I joined them. I sang my absolute heart out cheering to all the customers, singing and waving my arms around as the choir grew louder. I am also not ashamed to say I was crying when the lights came up. Honestly, I don't think I will ever forget that moment. That night as I crawled in at 4am, I cried again. I honestly think if I wasn't forced out, I would have never left that building.
Now every day I walk past, the shell of a building that once was the greatest job I ever had. Honestly, my heart breaks a little each time. We could have rocked it. But instead it is simply remains. Yet no matter how bad of an opinion some people may have about it, I will always fight its case because to me, that pub taught me a lot and gave me some wonderful friendships. And as for them, well let's just say we claimed the champion title by finally taking part in our own relocated pub quiz. Nobody beats us, the Botan Clan.