When Silence Is Louder Than Justice

Sexual Assault, Sports, and the Failure to Protect Women

Let’s stop pretending this is rare. Sexual assault in sports isn’t an anomaly, it’s a pattern. A protected ritual hiding behind jerseys, contracts, and team loyalty. And it’s not just pro leagues sweeping it under the rug; it starts right in our hometowns.

Take my backyard: Steubenville, Ohio.

2012. High school football players sexually assaulted an unconscious 16-year-old girl.

They documented it.

They laughed about it.

They shared it online like trophies.

And what did the town do? The school protected its winning team. Local law enforcement dragged their feet until the internet and a fired-up community said, “Hell no.” Only then after national outrage, after Anonymous stepped in, after the girl was humiliated a second time in the media, did charges get filed. Not because the system worked, but because it was forced to.

Sound familiar?

Fast forward to 2025:

Five Hockey Canada players—pros now—stood accused of gang sexual assault. The recent verdict?

Not guilty.

Not because it didn’t happen—because it couldn’t be “proven” beyond reasonable doubt.

Because victims still need to be perfect to be believed. Because fame is a shield and a silencer.

Sports Culture Is Broken

These aren’t isolated incidents. They’re symptoms of a larger disease where:

Coaches turn a blind eye to “locker room talk.” Administrators protect the team’s image over a survivor’s dignity. Fans excuse everything with, “Well, we don’t know the whole story…”

We do know the story.

We just don’t like what it says about us.

This Isn’t Cancel Culture. It’s Consequence Culture.

When we don’t hold people accountable, we teach young men that their talent buys silence. That winning games matters more than respecting women. That they can violate a body, ruin a life, and still get drafted, get cheered, and get away with it.

Meanwhile, survivors get retraumatized, scrutinized, threatened, and erased.

The Numbers Don’t Lie:

Every 68 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted. Only 1 in 4 will report it. Out of 1,000 perpetrators, only 25 will see prison.

RAINN Statistics

NSVRC Data

Real Cases, Real Silence:

Isaiah Bond, NFL prospect—accused, sues accuser. Read More Artemi Panarin, NHL player—accused by a team employee, settled privately. Read More Hockey Canada 5—acquitted, but not absolved. Read More

Steubenville Showed Us One Thing:

When we speak up loudly, relentlessly, change happens.

No institution protects its image more fiercely than a winning sports program.

But no force is stronger than a community that says, “We will not be silent.”

If You Need Help:

RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)

800-656-HOPE (4673)

rainn.org

Let’s call it what it is: a cultural crisis.

And the next time someone tells you, “Boys will be boys,”

you tell them:

“Then boys will face consequences.”

Ohio’s Child Support System: A Broken, Biased Mess

“Child support is for the child.”

That’s what they say.

But in Ohio? That’s nothing more than a slogan slapped on a dysfunctional system that’s more interested in collecting payments than protecting kids.

Once that money leaves the paying parent’s hands, it vanishes into a legal void. There’s zero accountability. No oversight. No receipt trail. Just blind faith that the receiving parent is doing the right thing. Spoiler alert: blind faith has no place in family law.

More Than Just a Monthly Payment

Since 2007, I’ve paid $85,020.19 in court-ordered child support. Let that number marinate for a second. Nearly ninety grand, a life-changing amount of money. That alone should’ve guaranteed a stable, secure future for my son. But guess what?

Not one cent was put aside for college.

Not one cent was saved for his future.

No savings account. No investment plan. No “just in case” cushion.

That’s nearly $90,000… spent. Gone. With nothing left to show for it.

And here’s the kicker: I didn’t just pay what the state demanded. I paid for his health insurance, car insurance, his actual car, sports equipment, school supplies, and the random expenses that pop up when you’re actually involved in your kid’s life.

Not because I had to.

Because I wanted to.

Because I’m a dad. And that’s what dads do.

So… Where Does the Money Go?

Ohio doesn’t regulate how child support is spent. You read that right.

There’s no law saying it has to go toward housing, food, school supplies or hell, even the child at all.

The state provides a prepaid debit card, and from that point on, it’s the Wild West. Buy groceries? Sure. Pay rent? Maybe. Hit the casino or get a mani-pedi? Who’s gonna stop ‘em? No one. Because there’s no accountability. No reporting. No receipts. No questions asked.

To be clear, some parents receiving support do the right thing.

But when they don’t?

The state doesn’t care.

Meanwhile, those of us footing the bill are often the same ones still buying the actual things the child needs…. while the system pats itself on the back for “ensuring support.”

A System Stacked Against Fathers

Let’s talk about the giant, unspoken bias baked into Ohio’s family courts.

You can be the more responsible parent.

You can be the consistent one.

You can show up, pay up, and shut up for years.

And none of it matters.

Because in Ohio, the system doesn’t care about fairness.

It cares about compliance and your wallet.

Trying to get a fair hearing as a father? Prepare for legal purgatory.

Need to modify your support order due to a job loss or medical issue? Be ready for months (if not years) of legal wrangling, interest penalties, and threats of wage garnishment, license suspension, or jail time.

Meanwhile, the parent receiving the money? They can mismanage funds, fail to contribute their share, or flat-out neglect the child’s needs, and face zero consequences.

Explain how that’s justice. I’ll wait.

Let me be crystal clear:

The only reason my son has anything saved for college or whatever he decides to do, is because my parents stepped in.

They saw the dysfunction.

They watched me pay and pay, while nothing was saved.

So they opened an account, funded it monthly, and made sure he had what the support system never guaranteed.

They also picked up the slack, buying school supplies, clothes, and other basics when support money wasn’t even being passed on to him.

Let that sink in.

While I paid the state, my parents supported the child.

Here’s the Bottom Line:

Child support is supposed to be about the child.

But in Ohio, it’s about bureaucracy, bias, and blindly processed payments.

If the state actually cared about children, they’d require transparency.

They’d enforce receipts, spending reports, and shared accountability.

They’d treat both parents like equal contributors, not walking ATMs and lucky recipients.

Until that happens, parents like me will keep paying not only what the state demands but everything else our children truly need…. while the system shrugs and fails the very people it claims to protect.

It’s time for reform. It’s time for oversight. And it’s damn well time for fairness.

Public Schools Pay the Price for West Virginia’s “Hope”

They call it the Hope Scholarship. But let me be clear: for public schools in West Virginia, especially the rural ones, there’s not a whole lot of hope left in the tank.

While lawmakers pitch it as “school choice,” what we’re really seeing is public dollars quietly rerouted into out-of-state private schools, luxury learning extras, and tech gadgets…. all while local classrooms go underfunded and overlooked.

Where’s the Money Actually Going?

A recent investigation found $22 million in Hope funds spent on:

Out-of-state private schools. iPads and MacBooks. Dance and art studios. Online programs not even based in West Virginia

Let that sink in. Your tax dollars, meant for West Virginia’s kids, being funneled into places and services outside the state, with little accountability.

Can you imagine being a small-town teacher trying to scrape together markers for your class while the state’s education funds are buying someone’s kid an iPad or ballet lessons across the border?

That ain’t equity. That’s elitism on the taxpayer’s dime.

Source: WV Watch – Dec. 2024

The Toll on Public Schools: Death by 1,000 Vouchers.

Let’s not pretend this isn’t strategic.

Every student who leaves public school under the Hope Scholarship takes about $4,700 of state funding with them. Multiply that by the thousands of students enrolled in the program and you’ve got millions bleeding out of your public system.

Small, rural schools feel it the worst. They already operate on shoestring budgets. Now they’re losing kids, staff, and resources and being told to do more with even less.

A June 2024 editorial hit it hard:

“This isn’t just about school choice. It’s about a deliberate dismantling of public education.”

Let’s call it what it is: legalized defunding.

Source: WV Watch – June 2024

Who’s Really Winning?

Wealthier families, that’s who!

Let’s face it: $4,700 doesn’t cover most private school tuitions. So if you’re a parent who already had the resources to pay that extra $2-3K? Congrats, you just got a taxpayer discount.

Meanwhile, lower-income parents can’t cover the difference. Can’t afford the homeschooling time or tech. And still rely on underfunded public schools getting weaker by the day.

The gap between “choice” and “privilege” has never been more obvious.

What’s the Real Goal?

Let’s connect the dots:

Pull money out of public schools. Watch them struggle. Label them as “failing.” Justify even more funding cuts. Say “school choice” is the answer.

It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Designed failure. All under the cute name “Hope.”

But when your local high school has to cancel art class or shut down a sports program while another kid gets Hope-funded piano lessons in another state? That’s not hope. That’s hypocrisy.

It’s Time to Ask the Hard Questions

Who do we want to lift up?

Who deserves opportunity?

And why are we okay with a system that gives more to those who already have more?

West Virginia kids deserve strong public schools not some flashy “choice” that only works for the privileged few.

It’s not about hope.

It’s about priorities.

And right now? They’re all kinds of backwards.

Epstein List: A Gaslit Country

Ghislaine Maxwell:

Convicted. Serving time. For trafficking minors… to whom? That’s the million-dollar, flight-log-fueled, black-book-shaped question.

You don’t get convicted for trafficking to nobody. That’s like charging a drug dealer and pretending the buyers never existed. So the fact that there’s no official list is laughable at best, sinister at worst.

The List

Now they’re saying “No Epstein list exists.”

Really? Because we’ve seen:

Flight logs, Court depositions, Virginia Giuffre’s testimony, Maxwell’s trial docs, and about 3,000 Reddit detectives going full True Crime Podcast mode since 2019.

They literally said;

“the list is sealed”

“the list is being redacted”

“the list might implicate powerful people”

and now suddenly: “Oh wait… what list?”

Is it suspicious?

Suspicious? It’s beyond suspicious. It’s wearing a trench coat and sunglasses inside type of suspicious.

It’s calling itself “Not A Conspiracy” while dodging every Freedom of Information Act request like it’s in the Matrix.

We’re expected to believe Ghislaine’s trial happened, with all those victims and years of abuse, and somehow the buyers just disappeared like Houdini.

Here’s the deal:

Powerful people protect powerful people. A list like that could bring down billionaires, royals, politicians, celebrities, and major institutions. Keeping the public focused on the two scapegoats (Epstein and Maxwell) means avoiding the avalanche of consequences that would follow real accountability.

If you or I trafficked literally anyone, there would be a full PDF itinerary with our names, addresses, and social security numbers on TMZ by noon. But here? We get a convenient “no list.”

It’s shady. It’s calculated. And it’s probably going to stay “nonexistent” until someone with the receipts decides to go full whistleblower mode. Until then, all we can do is keep asking questions loudly, because silence? That’s exactly how monsters keep hiding in plain sight.

So, what if someone had hardcore evidence?

First off: bless their brave soul if anyone has the guts to expose this stuff. It’s dangerous, it’s dirty, and the higher you go, the darker it gets.

Where do you go with whistleblower evidence?

The Inspector General? FBI – DHS – DOJ??? That’s assuming they haven’t been infiltrated or politically neutered.

Congressional committees, like the House Oversight Committee or the Senate Judiciary Committee. Again, this is a gamble depending on who’s in charge and how deep their pockets are lined. Non-partisan whistleblower organizations like the Government Accountability Project or Project On Government Oversight (POGO). They’ll help protect you and your info, and many have legal teams ready.

Independent journalists, if all else fails. People like Glenn Greenwald, Bari Weiss, Matt Taibbi, or whistleblower-friendly media outlets like The Intercept (might get the word out if the platform doesn’t nuke the story first. Then journalists need to worry about their safety and late night visits from men in dark clothing standing over them while in bed like some thriller on Netflix!

Now… what about Pam Bondi and Kash Patel?

Let’s not kid ourselves, these two are not Captain America and Wonder Woman.

Pam Bondi: Former Florida AG, popped up defending Trump during impeachment, has taken sketchy foreign lobbying money, and let’s just say… she’s not exactly the people’s hero.

Kash Patel: National Security background, was part of Trump’s inner circle, and keeps trying to position himself as some kind of deep-state slayer. He talks a big game about corruption, but when the receipts are due? He’s usually too busy on a podcast.

Are they trustworthy? Ehhhhhh.

Are they accountable? To who? Because it sure as hell isn’t us.

Are they distractions? Quite possibly.

They’re in that murky political influencer world where outrage pays more than outcomes.

Is our government part of the cover-up?

Here’s the raw truth, Yes, at least parts of it. And it doesn’t matter which party is in charge.

The people who could blow the lid off Epstein’s connections? Are also the people with something to lose if the list goes public. Agencies are layered with bureaucracy and political appointees who owe favors. Many have tried to speak up only to be silenced, blackballed, or suicided faster than you can say “Clinton Body Count.”

So what happens when law enforcement is compromised?

You’re stuck in a house with the wolves wearing sheriff’s badges. Here’s the brutal irony:

You can’t convict people when the gatekeepers are either in on it or too afraid to act. They slow-walk cases, “lose” evidence, or claim national security to seal files. You end up with a justice system that serves the rich and powerful, while the rest of us get cavity-searched for unpaid parking tickets.

So how do we fix it?

We raise hell.

We don’t stop talking.

We protect whistleblowers.

We vote smart.

We demand actual transparency, not performative hearings with zero accountability.

“Justice delayed is justice denied.”

And justice for Epstein’s victims has been denied for decades.

So the “no list” claim? Is just the cherry on top of a toxic sundae made of corruption, cowardice, and cover-ups. But if enough people scream loud enough, we just might melt it. And that’s just one sticky dripping mess I can live with!

Less “I Want”, More “How Can I”

Let’s talk about one of the biggest problems in the American workplace today: entitlement without accountability.

Every single day, employees look their managers straight in the eye and declare, “I want more money.”

You know what you almost never hear?

“How can I make more money for the business?”

“What can I do to bring more value?”

“How can I help this place grow so we all win?”

We’ve created a work culture where too many people think showing up barely is enough. They clock in, do the part of the job they enjoy, then spend the rest of the shift scrolling on their phones, gossiping, or just standing around waiting for the clock to set them free.

Here’s a reality check:

Nobody gets a raise when the business isn’t growing.

Nobody gets better pay when the cash register isn’t ringing.

You want more money? You want promotions? You want a job you actually feel proud of? Then you’d better start by asking yourself:

What have I done to improve this workplace? Have I contributed anything that makes the business better or more profitable? Do I make things easier for my coworkers, or do I pile on complaints?

Because whether you realize it or not, you are getting noticed.

But probably not for the reasons you think.

You’re noticed for your lack of hustle.

You’re noticed for your lack of curiosity.

You’re noticed for your lack of teamwork and the way you act like it’s someone else’s job to care.

You want to be noticed for the right reasons? Flip the script.

Start being the person who:

Looks for what needs done and just does it. Jumps in to help without being asked. Takes pride in every task, no matter how small. Brings solutions instead of excuses.

When you consistently add value, guess what? Raises, promotions, and respect tend to follow. You actually earn them instead of just demanding them.

And while we’re at it leave your personal problems at the door. Everyone has them. This isn’t group therapy; it’s work. Get off your damn phone. Stop whining about what’s “not fair” and start contributing to the place that signs your paycheck.

You chose this job. If it’s so miserable, maybe it’s time to find something else. Because the reality is, plenty of jobs out there will never pay more because they can’t, the businesses can’t afford it when half the staff is stuck in “I want” mode instead of “How can I help?” mode…

You want a better work life? Be a better worker.

You want more money? Be worth more money.

You want respect? Do something respectable.

Until then…. work, work, and work some more. The only person standing between you and the success you think you deserve is you!

Where’s the Damn Contractor’s?

Ever try to get some work done around your house or business? Simple stuff, like fixing deck boards, patching a roof, jetting a clogged driveway drain, or finally finishing that mysterious hole in the drywall that’s been staring at you like it knows your secrets?

So you call around. You text. You leave voicemails with the enthusiasm of someone who still believes in humanity. But what do you get back?

Crickets.

Ghosts.

A few “I’ll get back to yous” that age worse than milk in the sun. Or my favorite, when we hang up text me your name, address and job description and I’ll get to it. Meanwhile, a year later you’re still brooming rain water from your garage during every rainstorm!

I’ve got a notepad…. yes, a physical notepad, filled with the names of contractors who vanished like they got drafted into another dimension. They respond to messages, maybe even throw out a quote, but then poof! They’re gone. Or they show up once, sniff around, tell you it’ll be “about $700, give or take,” then hit you with a $2,800 bill for “materials” and “labor” and “uhh… time spent thinking about the job.”

We’ve all seen the commercials: Angie’s List (or whatever it’s called now… Angi? Like it’s trying to sound hip?). It works in bigger cities where reviews flow faster than Jamba Juice in L.A…. but in small towns? It’s as useful as a screen door on a submarine. And it sure as hell doesn’t warn you about the guy who never called back or the one who showed up smelling like last night’s dive bar and used your toilet more than his tools.

But here’s the real twist…

The big contractors?

The “we’ve got trucks and matching shirts” types?

They’re disappearing like Blockbuster in the early 2000’s

And what’s replacing them?

Handymen.

Guys with tools in the back of a dusty pickup, a telephone pole ad that says “No job too big,” and an Instagram full of before-and-after pics that are, let’s say, inspired.

Now listen, I love a good handyman hustle. They fill a gap, especially in small towns where calling a licensed contractor is like trying to book a table at a 5-star restaurant with a McDonald’s gift card.

But here’s the problem:

They’re handy. Not experts.

Need a new door hung? Perfect.

Need your electrical box redone so your breaker doesn’t trip when your wife curls her hair while your son is on a week long Xbox bender? Maybe not so much.

We need a new kind of system. Not Angie’s List 2.0. Not Yelp (because let’s be honest, most Yelp reviews were written during emotional breakdowns). We need a “No-Call, No-Show” database, a place to warn your fellow neighbors and friends before they waste a week waiting for someone who never intended to show up.

Contractor Ghosted You? Add ’em. Got quoted one price, then got hit with a “surprise?” Add ’em. Handyman rewired your house and now Alexa only speaks in Morse code? Add. Them.

We’re not here to bash the blue-collar heroes who actually do show up and do it right. We’re here to call out the ones who treat your time, money, and patience like they’re optional.

Until then, I’ll keep updating my little black notepad of contractor shame.

And if you’re in my area and you are “handy” I have some projects that need attending too! Show up, finish the job and stay out of my little black book!

Driveway Drain: Clogged from a neighbor’s pine tree. Called a plumber. Explained the issue clearly. He agreed to come take a look… never showed up.

Basement Bulkhead: Needs torn out and rebuilt. Plumbing and ductwork inside need repair and rerouting. I reached out to several contractors and even sent photos. Not a single one followed up.

Back Deck to Four-Season Room: Contacted multiple contractors to either repair or tear down the existing deck and convert it into a four-season room. One showed up and seemed interested. Said he’d email a quote and contract. That was two years ago. After three follow-up messages with no response, I gave up.

Follansbee Needs Leaders, Not an Internet Comment War

I jumped on social media today just to check the local election results in my old hometown, Follansbee, West Virginia. You know, a quiet little spot that’s seen generations of my family dedicate themselves to public service. We’ve had city council members, city managers… you name it. I even clocked a few years working for the city myself.

So yeah, I’ve got some skin in the game. And from what I saw during my time there, and from listening to those who stayed in the trenches…. I can tell you one thing for sure: Follansbee has been crying out for an overhaul for years.

Mismanaged funds. Overpaid department heads coasting through their gigs. A leadership culture where “best interest of the city” seems to be an afterthought. Watching the city slip year after year has been tough. Especially the police department. Follansbee sits right between Steubenville, OH and Weirton, WV…. just 30 minutes north of Wheeling. And guess what all three have in common? Crime and a serious drug problem. Meanwhile, Follansbee’s law enforcement seems underfunded and underprepared for the chaos that often spills into town.

But as disappointing as that is… what I saw today was worse.

I couldn’t even find the damn election results.

Instead? Just a scroll-fest of childish name-calling, online tantrums, and enough keyboard courage to fill a high school cafeteria. Seriously, grown adults throwing digital fists like it’s recess. “Idiot.” “Asshole.” And even worse.

Let me ask this: Would you say that to someone’s face at the gas station? At the post office? Or is your bravery only broadband-deep?

Listen, Follansbee needs change. I’m hopeful the new council members and mayor are ready to do what needs to be done and I genuinely believe they are. But change doesn’t just come from the top. It comes from us. From how we act, how we speak, and how we treat each other, even when we disagree.

And maybe, just maybe, if some of these digital tough guys tried acting like actual neighbors instead of internet trolls, we could get something real done.

Here’s to hoping.

How High School Sports Kill Dreams: A Personal Play-by-Play

There’s an epidemic quietly killing sports dreams—and it starts the minute talented young athletes enter high school. It’s not a lack of love for the game. It’s not burnout. It’s not even TikTok (shocking, I know). It’s favoritism. Politics. And coaching that wouldn’t pass Little League certification.

Let me break it down from personal experience.

Years ago, my son joined a rec baseball team in our hometown. He showed up to every single practice, worked his tail off, and played the game with heart. You know what he got in return? A permanent spot on the bench. Why? Because he didn’t share a last name with the coach or attend the right cookouts.

Meanwhile, the coach’s kid—barely present at practice because of another team—waltzed into games like he was the next Derek Jeter. And this wasn’t a one-time thing. Every team was run by a parent-coach clique who picked rosters like they were drafting for a family reunion.

So, we bounced.

My son went on to try out for a large organizational travel team—and he made it. This wasn’t your average weekend warrior crew. This was baseball boot camp with a pro-level polish. Organized practices. Professional drills. Matching uniforms. Players knew their roles. Coaches actually coached. And the kids? They played their hearts out—for each other.

He thrived.

But then came high school—and a choice I didn’t agree with. He left travel ball to play for his school. Why? He wanted to play with his friends. He still trained in Pittsburgh with top-tier instructors (you want credentials? Check out csidesports.com—these guys don’t mess around).

But apparently, high school coaches weren’t interested in credentials. He was told to ditch professional training and report to winter workouts in the school gym—because “we know better.” Right.

From there, it all unraveled.

Practice was chaos. There was no structure. No development. One kid showed up in dress pants, other players were all mis-matched wearing a hodgepodge of gear. Game days looked like a circus—one coach in a black cap, the other in red. No warmups. No consistency. No accountability.

Meanwhile, cocky, underqualified players got starting spots thanks to their parents’ connections. My son, who had the skill, drive, and work ethic, was pushed aside.

Then came the injury—he broke his arm diving for a ball, and just like that, his season was over.

But worse than that? His love for the game was gone. High school baseball killed it. It crushed a dream.

And here’s the real tragedy: This kid wasn’t just good—he was special. DIII and DI coaches saw it. He was training with college athletes at 13. He had a path. A future. A shot at an education and a chance to play at the next level.

But all that potential? Pushed out by politics, poor coaching, and a system that rewards who you know over what you can do.

My son isn’t alone.

This story plays out in every town, every year. Talented athletes walk away—not because they gave up, but because the system gave up on them.

It’s time we start talking about it.

Because sports should be about hustle, heart, and hard work. Not who your parents are, who’s on the school board or who attends your backyard BBQ’s.

Privilege Isn’t a Personality: The Entitlement Epidemic

Let’s talk about something that makes the room go cold real quick; entitlement. Not confidence. Not ambition. I’m talking about that smug, nose-in-the-air energy you feel from folks who believe they were born into the VIP section of life because mommy and daddy had a fat portfolio.

You’ve seen it. Hell, if you work in food service, retail, healthcare, or literally any job that requires human interaction, you’ve felt the sting of someone looking at you like you’re a footnote in their fabulous little world. All because they come from money.

So here’s the question: Do you feel privileged because you come from money?

Because some people don’t just feel privileged, they feel entitled. To pick first. First class. First bite. And first attention. And if they don’t get it? Cue the meltdown. It’s giving “I’d like to speak to the manager” energy… only with a black AmEx and the belief that rules are for peasants. I have a place for your black AmEx!

And it’s not just about service, it’s about worth. There’s this underlying attitude that money = superiority. That if you’re struggling or working hard, it must mean you didn’t work smart. That you’re somehow lesser because your family tree doesn’t come with a trust fund and a country club membership.

Here’s the tea: Money doesn’t make you better. It just makes you louder in a world where too many people are still being silenced.

Entitlement is learned, not earned. And if you think your bank account gives you a moral high ground, then babe, you’re bankrupt where it really counts.

Let’s redefine what deserves respect: Kindness. Work ethic. Empathy. Accountability. The stuff that can’t be wired, inherited, or faked with a Gucci belt.

So take it back a notch and calm down. Your money doesn’t impress me. It doesn’t buy character! It doesn’t earn respect.

And it sure as hell doesn’t get you ahead of the line.

Because around here?

We don’t serve egos, we serve people!!

New World, No Grit?

Owning my own bar and restaurant has opened my eyes to a lot of things I used to take for granted.

Back in the day, when I clocked in as a bartender, the first thing I’d do? Check my inventory. What’s stocked, what’s running low? End of every shift, I’d clean, restock, and leave a detailed list of beers and liquors that needed attention. That was just standard. No one had to ask.

Now that I own the place? Half the staff strolls in like it’s their living room. No sense of urgency, no instinct to go above and beyond. Just clock in, stay in their lane, and peace out.

Did we lose something from the ’90s to now? Where’s the grit? The gusto? The pride in being a grinder? Where’s that “I’m here to crush it and make this place better” energy?

I’m not talking about working yourself to the bone, I’m talking about caring. About showing up with heart, hustle, and some damn initiative and not your own personal agenda?

It’s not that hard: look around, anticipate, and take action. That’s how you grow. That’s how you win.

But in today’s new world of workers, that mindset feels like a dying art.

And I’ll be real, I just don’t get it.

So here’s the question: Can we fix it? Is there hope?

Are there still people out there who want it, who want to learn, level up, and build something better? Are there people who believe in showing up on time, stepping up, and actually giving a damn?

Because if you’re one of them, one of the few left who takes pride in showing up and showing out, then I’m looking for you.

We used to chase shifts. Now I’m chasing people to do the shift.

If you want a gold star for doing the bare minimum, you’re in the wrong place!