Mentally Preparating & Reflecting

This week is going to be a busy one. After nearly 15 years of working downtown, I know all too well how much mental preparation is needed for a long weekend—especially with Opening Day around the corner.

I still remember sitting in my 10th-grade Spanish class at Southgate Anderson, listening to my teacher casually mention that he’d be going to Opening Day and wouldn’t be in for class the next day. At the time, it seemed odd to me. Why would a baseball game warrant skipping work? But as a teenager, I wasn’t about to question a day with a substitute teacher.

Now, after years of experiencing the chaos firsthand, I completely understand what he meant. Opening Day isn’t just a game—it’s an event, a city-wide celebration that takes over downtown, bringing crowds, excitement, and for those of us working in it, exhaustion.

There have been only a few years when I haven’t worked Opening Day, but not many. My younger self absolutely thrived on it. At 19, working at a bar attached to a hotel—holy crap! Talk about a whirlwind of chaos. The experience was amazing, especially since we were just a short walk from the park. Back then, there weren’t nearly as many bars downtown as there are now, so our place was always packed. It was a mix of making a ton of money, vibing with the customers, and, best of all, being able to drink while working—sign me up!

But there was one catch: the new bar manager. I always tell people I like him as a person, but working with him was another story, and he would agree and say the same about me. We just clashed. Back then, I felt like he was constantly nitpicking everything I did. Everyone told me I was imagining it, but then one day I got the confirmation—he was harder on me than anyone else. On Opening Day 2012, Drunk Cierra had finally had enough of the constant criticism. In a haze of frustration and a few drinks in, I transferred all my tabs, walked straight up to the owner, turned in my apron, and quit.

The owner was surprisingly calm and even consoling, as I ranted about everything that had been building up. The next day, I showed up for work, completely oblivious to the fact that I’d quit the night before. It was like nothing had ever happened—no one mentioned it, and life carried on like it was just another crazy Opening Day shift.

I loved my first bar job down here. With the hotel connection, we were constantly busy, especially during Tigers and Red Wings games. We even had some players come in, and during the preseason, Griffins players would stay at the Westin, fighting for their chance to prove themselves on the ice and earn a spot in the show.

As a kid just starting in the industry, it was overwhelming in every sense. You either thrived or got caught up and lost yourself. The money was great—sometimes ridiculously so—and the freedom to bar-hop downtown whenever I wanted felt surreal. It was an entirely different world, one that could chew you up if you weren’t careful, but if you knew how to handle yourself, it was one hell of a ride.

But back to Opening Day. This will be my third one working completely sober. The one before that, my friend Michael invited me to the game—as he always does—but I usually have to turn him down because of work. Three years ago, though, I got lucky. I worked a private party early in the day and then managed to make it to the game.

It was during this Opening Day, being sober, that I truly came to understand just how disruptive drunk sports fans can be. At first, everything seemed fine. There was a guy in the section next to ours, just another excited fan caught up in the energy of the game. But as the game wore on, something shifted. What had started as excitement quickly escalated into an unbearable barrage of loud, nonsensical yelling directed at the players on the field.

He screamed at the top of his lungs, yelling at the players like they could hear him, criticizing every play and decision. It was as if he thought he knew better than the professionals out there, despite the fact that these athletes were at the top of their game, making millions for their skills. His shouting grew louder and more frequent, becoming more ridiculous as the game went on. It was clear his drinking was only making him feel more entitled. What started as support for his team turned into a spectacle of frustration and unwarranted arrogance. I actually wanted to turn to him and ask, “Why aren’t you being paid millions to be out there playing since you can clearly do so much better?”

In that moment, I realized how a single person’s behavior could change the entire experience of the game. Fans pay good money to be there, to enjoy the spectacle, and yet, here was one person ruining it for everyone around him. It wasn’t just about the game—it was about the shared experience of being in a stadium, where the energy of the crowd is meant to be contagious and unifying, not to have somebody ruin the experience for others because they can’t handle their alcohol.

There are a lot of lessons I’ve learned over the years, especially when it comes to drinking while working—and, honestly, drinking in general. With Opening Day 2025 just around the corner, and me working at two different bars in Downtown Detroit, sober, I have to remind myself that I can’t control other people’s actions. That’s something I still struggle with, especially when I’m on the clock. The thing is, my coworkers can directly affect how much I make because of the tip pool behind the bar. So as long as you don’t mess with my money, act like I’m not doing my job, or insult my character, I don’t care what you do. I’ll make your shots and drinks myself.

But here’s the thing—even though everything else really isn’t my problem, I still have a hard time letting go when the amount of money I make is on the line. It’s hard not to take it personally when my income is affected by someone else’s actions and there’s nothing I can do, and I’m still working on letting that go. I’ve learned that focusing on doing my job to the best of my ability is the most important thing I can do in those situations. Everything else? Not my problem… but I still find it beyond bothersome.