Is It Still Worth It to Stay a Sommelier?

The stemware clinks. Another shift begins. You tie your apron like a ritual. Tight. Tighter. Like maybe this time it'll hold you together.

Someone asks about the Barolo. You smile. You nod. You say the words like you mean them. ("It's from Piedmont, northern Italy. Nebbiolo grape. Tastes like dried roses and old heartbreak.")

But tonight, something in your chest feels like it's fraying.

You've poured your youth into this floor. Memorized soil types instead of birthdays. Told yourself late nights and calloused feet were part of the poetry. And they were. Until they weren’t.

This job used to feel sacred. Now it just feels like survival.

When the Passion Starts to Flicker

There was a time when you studied wine maps with wonder. Practiced pronunciations in the mirror. Geeked out over tannin structure and dreamt of Loire Valley mornings.

But passion is a flame, not a furnace. And sometimes it sputters.

The guests feel harder. The margin feels smaller. The magic feels distant.

You’re not lazy. You’re just tired in a place that doesn’t make space for tiredness.

What No One Warned Us About

No one told us that loving wine didn’t mean the industry would love us back.

That the floor would steal parts of you in tiny, silent ways. That you’d miss weddings, and funerals, and the feeling in your lower back. That you'd confuse praise with worth. Hustle with healing.

That some nights, you’d pour $300 bottles with shaking hands and wonder if you were still okay.

But Then There Are These Moments

A table lingers just to say thank you. A regular remembers your name. Someone tries their first orange wine and their face lights up like it's church.

You open a bottle that smells like a season you forgot.

You catch yourself teaching a new server, and realize you still believe.

So Is It Still Worth It?

Maybe not every night. Maybe not in the way you thought.

But worth doesn't always roar. Sometimes it whispers. In the quiet knowledge that you are still here. Still showing up. Still pouring beauty, even when your own glass feels low.