1997

When it all began. This was the summer I decided to stay in Ithaca after the academic year...and I needed a job. There was a little bar down on the commons that I frequented with my buddies that seemed a likely fit. It was called Micawbers; named for some character in a Dickens novel I would come to find out. With no immediate aspirations of tending bar, I just wanted to sit at the door and check IDs. At this point, I really knew nothing about bars. I had been in them. I had given them a bunch of money. I had even been kicked out of them.

The One of my housemates, Damon, already worked there. I was a regular there. The staff knew me. My foot was in the door. And luckily with students leaving for the summer, they needed help. The cards were stacked in my favor and Eric, the manager, hired me.

Already, in my 21 years, I had held several jobs. I had been a newpaper delivery boy, a buss-boy at an Italian restaurant, a donut jockey at Dunkin' Donuts, a floor clerk at the local hardware store, worked the snack bar at a nearby country club, and was a baker on campus. A summer job may seem like a small blip on the radar of life, but this particular bar would prove to be one of the most significant stops along my life. At Micawbers, I met my business partner, my wife, and worked with 3 men who stood in my wedding as groomsmen. Was there something special about Micawbers? Maybe...maybe not. However, I would come to learn one can find this camaraderie in lots of bars in almost every town.