Breaking point

Hello everyone, well I have just finished another Saturday night and wow I’m feeling those aches and pains!Every single joint hurts and I have some kind of inflammation on my fingers which is itchy as all hell...
My motivation for this poem is pretty straight forward, I’m sure there are a lot of bartenders out there who could have been something else. Me I would have ended up as a builder like my father and when I go back to NZ, I do trade my shakers in for a nail gun and hammer... Oh and a cool apron with nails and stuff. I mean there are plenty of jobs out there that don't require skill, determination, intellect, patience, understanding and of course making a great cocktail. So here is my poem to all the girls and guys who have a passion for bartending. We all know how it feels to put our bodies on the line night after night! Please feel free to comment on what you might have been! I know Dave Wonderich would have made a great rock star and Robert Hess wants to be a bartender (Microsoft must pay badly)

My hands creek as they shake back and forth
My back is bent as I lean forward to pour
My fingers ache, freezing and frostbitten

I’m not an Antarctic explorer, I’m not a mountain climber
I’m a bartender, entertainer and drink maker

My body is weary, tired of fast movements
My head is heavy from too many conversations
My legs feel like they are cast in lead

I’m not a rocket scientist or a microsoft engineer
I’m your local bartender, listener and drink maker

My toes are cramped in shiny black shoes
My shoulders are locked from one too many hard shakes
My eyes are strained, make that double strained

I’m not a lawyer, school teacher or a doctor
I am the law, the teacher and I am the drink maker

This is a Hayden Scott Lambert original poem and cannot be reproduced without his permission