When I was in Minnesota, I occasionally frequented the hotel bar with my mom. I didn't drink of course, but the bartenders were friendly and the television always had some kind of wacky reality TV show.
One day, we were watching Bar Rescue, and the bartender confessed that he had run his own bar for five years. He had quit voluntarily. We asked him why, and this is generally what he said.
"I couldn't handle the moral responsibility. Running a bar in a small town, you got to know everything about the people there. It got to the point where I learned about affairs before the spouse did. There was one man who came for five hours a day. I'm pretty sure I saw him more than his family did. One day he passed away. I didn't know if I should write the family a letter of condolences, because I cared for the man, but I may have been linked to the cause.
That guy, he would have a general conversation, and then the beer just hit him and boom, he was drunk. I went up to him and said, 'Hey, high five.' Then when he rose his hands, I grabbed his keys from his pockets.
It's great meeting people and everything, but I couldn't do it anymore."
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