"Did you sleep okay?" I ask, as is routine for a morning conversation. But now she winces, remembering the pain of the night. The knee that had surgery years before is being aggravated again by the hours spent providing table service. The physical tiredness has fought the mental worry all night again. "I think it may be time to get out of this industry," she replies. I go to work, drifting as usual. I speak and check-in with some friends in the beer industry who are all feeling the strain. I go for a pint after work, knowing that soon I won't be able to. On one occasion the manager sits on a table adjacent to mine with a beer too. We talk about many things, trying to stay as jovial as possible. He pauses. "It isn't fun running a pub anymore." As the pubs in my work locale slip into Tier 3, the regulars gather for a final drink on a Thursday night. Not for a final chance to get drunk or drink beer that is being sold off cheap, thou