A column about booze, anxiety, and feeling like you’re a part of something.
Walking through the gates of Good Robot on a busy weekend can feel intimidating as all hell – even for an employee. The people are crowded together, the cups filled to the brim with a new beer that you don’t recognize, and you feel like not even the shadow that casts over the gastroturf can protect you.
But our beer, it doesn’t judge. Our beer doesn’t ask questions or cast expectations. Our beer will run right up to you and ask you to be its friend.
That’s at least what I found in my 3 months working with GRBC.
The Goseface is my sour friend when I’m in need for a little bitch-fest and a half, or when I’m really ticked off about my “grown-up job.” She gives me the salty edge I need to carry on.
Now, the nuttiest of them all, is the smoky Camacho Lager. He can be a really big ass, but man, can I let loose with this guy. He is a goof, and he is a great listener. He’s my go-to when I need to just be myself. Continue reading