Tending to the Bar and to Myself

Full time bartending as a full time student 

By Siena Gordillo

Graphic by Rhiannon Li

My typical Thursday night ends on the second floor of the Prudential Center. I leave work at 1 a.m., and just eight hours later I’m cozied up on a College of Arts and Sciences desk, learning about chemical imbalances and serotonin levels. 

This has been my reality since I first started at BU in 2022: work, class, sleep, repeat. Unfortunately, I’m more often than not the “Sorry, I have work,” friend, and 80% of my college free-time has been spent behind a bar or in some sort of restaurant uniform. Still, I’ve found more joy being the one behind the bar on the weekends, as opposed to going out myself.

Back Bay is one of Boston’s most lively spots for nightlife, and being behind the bar gets me in on the fun while also supporting myself financially. Still, the rhythm has its trade-offs, especially looking back on my college experience. What no one tells you about being a full-time student and a full-time worker is that both worlds demand you at 100%, at all times. My morning lecturer doesn’t care when I got off my shift the night before, nor will guests stop coming in because I have class in the morning. At some point, studying cocktail specs started to blur with studying for midterms.

In complete honesty, managing the two worlds has not gotten any easier. But I’ve learned how to find my balance and create stability in my reality, even if it has taken a few years to get it down. Routines have become my best friend. When I know what to expect from each day, it makes it significantly easier to cope with the unknowns behind the bar. Above all, bartending is a profession dependent on caring for others, most often strangers. Every guest you serve, every drink you put out and every interaction in between – everything is an extension of you when you’re on the clock. 

What all of this comes back to is learning to tend to myself, above all else. When my uniform is on, I step into my zone. And when I enter a classroom, I am reminded of all the work I did to get there. The two worlds I am a part of are extensions of who I am, but don’t comprise my entirety as a person. Now, in my senior year, I might be behind a few hours of sleep and have a closet full of black slacks, but being so close to graduating feels even better. And now I can also make a damn good espresso martini.