Episode 75 - Nothing but Burnout

Mike talks about disappearing from the podcast, getting laid off, going back to bartending, and burning out harder than he expected — physically, mentally, and emotionally. He reflects on why service work takes more than people realize, how burnout followed him home, and what changed when he moved in with his girlfriend and had to confront how much of himself he was giving away before he ever walked through the door.

This isn’t a big comeback or a rebrand — just some context, some honesty, and a slight return.

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Chapters

• 0:00 Return And A New 9-To-5
• 1:46 Daycare Bathroom Anxiety
• 2:36 Layoff And Hiring Freeze Reality
• 3:42 Back To Bartending
• 4:51 Physical Burnout Sets In
• 6:15 The Money Myth Of Service Work
• 7:13 Managing 20 Personalities At Once
• 7:29 Moving In And Adapting To A Cat
• 8:41 Schedule Strain And Relationship Costs
• 9:46 Bringing Home The Leftovers
• 11:22 When Small Questions Trigger Big Fights
• 12:38 Grace, Seasons, And Fumes

Transcript

Mike: 0:10

Alright, so I'm back. Which I know is funny coming from me because I'm basically the deadbeat dad of podcasting. I show up when I think life is stable enough to drop an episode. I do, but then I disappear for months. And you're all like, how many times are we gonna fall for this? And honestly, if narcissism was a podcast, this would be it. But alright, to quote theory of a dead man, the bitch came back. And yeah, the bitch is me. So what's been going on? Well, for starters, it's a new year and I got a new job. I'm back in a 9-5 office job. You know, the exact thing I said I didn't want, because if you listen to this podcast last year, I was talking a lot of shit about 9-to-5s. And I don't want to get too specific about where I work, but let's just say it's a place that has daycare, like nursery school, which means I've unlocked a brand new kind of workplace anxiety. Because now I'm genuinely afraid to use the urinal. Because like the last thing I need is to be midstream, and a five-year-old just confidently walks up next to me, and now I'm panicking. Like, nope, nope, this is how people end up on a list. So now I'm just the guy washing his hands for 10 minutes, waiting for the coast to be clear. Which is a really weird transition after bartending, by the way. But let me be clear about something right away, so I don't rewrite history. I didn't leave a 9-to-5 because I was enlightened or chasing freedom. I got laid off. And this was during that stretch where every company had jobs posted, but somehow nobody was actually hiring. You'd apply, hear nothing, maybe get a recruiter call, then get ghosted like you're sending a toxic you up text like it's 2 30 in the morning. So yeah, I was unemployed for a while, talking shit about nine to fives because I'd been burned so many times that I was like, fuck corporate, fuck emails, fuck pretending this is normal. And now here's where the bartending comes in. Because I remembered bartending was fun. I liked it, I'm good at it, and more importantly, I needed a job. So I was like, fuck it, let me go back to something I actually enjoy. And for a minute, it was fun, and then it was like, oh no, this is also exhausting, but it's just in a completely different way. I burned out way faster bartending than I ever did in an office, not mentally first, but physically. I was doing seven shifts a week, 35 hours on my feet, no real breaks. I had plantar fishitis for months, knee pain from constantly shifting weight, my back was always tight, waking up already sore, I wasn't injured, I was just worn down. And anybody who's bartender for a long time, you probably know what I'm talking about. And what made it more complicated was that I was good at it. I built a crowd fast, people came in when I was working, and at one point, I even kind of became the guy. I was getting put in spots over people who'd been there way longer than I was. So it wasn't like I was failing, I was succeeding while slowly breaking down. And that's kind of a harder thing to walk away from. But mentally, my heart was still in it. I wanted to prove I could do it. I wanted to say, yeah, you know, I can handle this, but my body was just saying, absolutely the fuck not. And I didn't want to listen because listening felt like I was admitting to something. Because my grandfather was a bartender, as you might know if you've listened to this podcast. And I think a part of me really wanted to do it because he did it. I felt like if I could handle it, that it would mean a little bit more than something of just a job. And instead of proving anything, it actually gave me a whole new respect for what that work actually costs. Because if I was breaking down after a few months, I couldn't imagine doing it for decades. But also, I think to a certain point, back in the day that my grandfather was doing it, it was a sustainable job. Nowadays, with how the economy is and how things have panned out, it's way better as a side gig than it is as an actual career. But it's kind of funny when you tell people that you were a bartender, because that's where people always just stop thinking. Because the first thing that everyone says to you when you tell them that you bartended is, oh, but the money must have been great. And you know, on paper, yeah, a thousand bucks a week sounds pretty awesome. Until you actually have to live it. When you're in service, you're touching people's gross silverware, you're in close contact with everyone, you're gonna get sick. And when you get sick, there's no sick days, no PTO, no pay. So yeah, maybe you made a thousand bucks last week, but you missed four shifts this week. That thousand just turned into four hundred real quick. But if memory serves me right from three months ago, I think I talked about this in my last episode, so I'm not gonna fully go into it. But bartending as a job really kind of put it into perspective because on paper, bartending felt like good money because it came in chunks. Cash nights, big weekends, but over a full year, it wasn't even close to what I thought it was. Not even close. I wasn't saving, and I was just really good at surviving month to month because there was no consistency, there was no safety net, there was no margin for error. So when people say, Yeah, but the money must have been great, you sit back and you're just like, by what metric? How many of us fall in love with the idea of bartending? You're making drinks, you're socializing, you're having fun with the right crowd. But the reality is you're hosting anywhere from 15 to 20 people at once. That's 15 to 20 personalities you're reading, managing, and adjusting to. You're not just making drinks, you're on the entire time. And then my life changed because I got serious with someone. My girlfriend and I moved in together, and she didn't just move in alone, she moved in with her cat, which I was wildly unprepared for. Because on top of everything else, I'm a dog person. I grew up with dogs, dogs are simple. Dogs are like, you're my entire world, and I'll die for you. Dogs want your love, dogs live for approval. Cats? Cats are like, you'll be loved when I decide. And it hit me one night. I just spent all day at work reading personalities, reading moods, adjusting myself to 20 different people at a time. And then I come home, and now there's another personality that I have to figure out. A creature whose entire communication style is rejection. And at first I'm like, oh cool, she hates me. But eventually you learn, cats aren't cold, they're selective. But don't worry, you actually figure it out, and now, if I don't get my daily snuggles, I'm genuinely offended. Because everything's on their time. You don't earn it, you're allowed it. Because when a cat chooses you, that actually means something. But that's besides the point. Because the bigger issue was actually the schedule. My girlfriend worked days, I worked nights, she had weekends off, I had to work those days because those were my money maker. Which also put a strain on a lot of my relationships in general. But I live with this woman. I'd leave for work on a Wednesday night and be like, Alright, I'll see you on Sunday night, because I would come home when she was asleep, she'd go to work while I was sleeping, I'd wake up in the afternoon because I'd stayed up all night. So bartending worked when it was just me. But when I got serious with someone, something had to change, and it wasn't the relationship. And this is the part that I didn't expect was how much of myself I was giving away before I ever even got home. And again, maybe this was just me, I'm not sure. But if you've ever worked in service, you might relate to this. Because when you're bartending, you're on all the time. You're reading people, managing moods, you're adjusting your tone, your patience, your energy constantly. You're being your best self for people you rely on for rent money. And the fucked up part is the people you care about the most are getting the leftovers. Meanwhile, strangers got the polished versions of me for 6 to 12 hours. And the only place that frustration had left to go was home. So then you come home and your partner says one thing, not even a bad thing, just a thing. Like, hey, did you feed the cat? And suddenly your brain goes, Oh, so you don't trust me to handle basic life functions? And now we're not talking about the cat anymore. Now we're talking about respect and trust. And why do you think so little of me? And all she wanted to know was if the cat ate. And that's when I realized I wasn't mad at her, I just had nothing left. I'd already spent all day swallowing my reactions, smiling, being patient, letting things go. And on top of that, my whole life felt like a battle at the time. I was fighting my body just to keep up. I was fighting my finances, I was fighting general uncertainty. So yeah, I was on edge, and I brought that home. And this is where I'll say my girlfriend is an absolute saint because she knew the deal. She knew that it wasn't about her and that it was just the season that I was in. And that's not something that I take lately. Because not everyone sticks around while you're trying to figure out your own shit. My job was talking to people for six to twelve hours a day. So yeah, when I got home, I was running on fumes. Not for strangers, but for the people who actually matter. So when people kept asking me why I didn't hit record, I had just talked all day. No part of me wanted to come home and talk to myself for another 30 minutes. But here's what I actually learned. Burnout doesn't care what job you're doing. If your nervous system is fried, it'll find a way. There is no perfect job, they're just different trade-offs. I used to think nine to fives were absolute bullshit. And then I started working as a bartender, and I realized I didn't even know what bullshit was. Because some jobs ask for your time, some ask for your patience, some ask for your body, and bartending asked for all three. And at some point, you have to be honest about what you can give. But nothing magical happened. I didn't figure life out, life just stopped yelling. My structure came back, my pressure dropped, the mental noise lowered. I don't have my current dream job, but it's just a job that doesn't fight me every day. And honestly, that's enough right now. Four months ago, I was just trying to survive. Now I'm just paying attention. So hopefully now I can get more into a rhythm of getting back into the groove of doing this podcast. So it's a new year, it's a new job, but it's the same guy with a little bit less chaos. So we'll catch up next time.