Why Pubs Are Training Grounds For Life

I’ve been spending a lot of time in pubs over the past few months, working on a couple of projects. In the process, I’ve been reminded why they still matter so much to me, and why they matter culturally too.
Pubs have a way of doing their work quietly. You go in for one thing and come out having absorbed more than you realised.

Pubs were my first love in work, because they tolerated my mistakes while asking a lot of me early on. They trusted me with responsibility before I felt ready for it, and in doing so quietly shaped how I see people at work to this day.

Long before I had any language for leadership, coaching or culture, I was learning how to read a room, hold my nerve under pressure, and make decisions when there wasn’t time to overthink them. At the time, it felt like I was just running a pub. Looking back, it’s now clear how much of me was being formed there.

There’s something about pubs that holds contradiction better than most places. Families sit alongside regulars who’ve been coming in for years. Dogs curl up under tables while serious conversations happen above them. Grief, celebration, boredom and routine all coexist in the same space, often on the same day.

You don’t need a reason to be there, and you don’t need to perform. Silence in a pub feels acceptable, whereas silence in a restaurant can feel awkward, as though something has gone wrong.

And if you work in pubs long enough, you start learning things without ever being formally taught. You develop a feel for when humour lands and when it doesn’t, when to step in and when to leave things alone, and how to read what’s going on beneath what’s being said. You learn that atmosphere isn’t created by décor alone, but by behaviour, tone and attention.

Some lessons lodge themselves even deeper. I honestly don’t know who taught me that coloured chalk on menus and A-boards is too playful, but I know it to be true. And I still, to this day, run my hands under tables and along the underside of bars to check for chewing gum. I do it without thinking. That kind of learning lives in the body rather than the head. It comes from repetition, pride, and a shared understanding of what care looks like when no one is watching.

Pubs also teach you how to work with people as they are, not as you’d like them to be. Regulars need to feel seen, but not indulged to the point where they run the place. First-timers need warmth without overfamiliarity. Some people want conversation, others want efficiency, and some just want to be left alone. You adjust constantly, tailoring your approach moment by moment, often without realising you’re doing it. One size never fits all, and you learn that quickly - and sometimes the hard way.

There’s a particular skill in knowing when to intervene and when to let things play out. You hear frustrations, celebrations and complaints, and over time you learn not to take them personally. Distance doesn’t mean detachment; it means staying grounded enough to respond well.

When I look at my work now, I can see how much of my coaching instinct was shaped behind a bar. The curiosity, and the ability to listen for what’s underneath. The habit of adjusting rather than imposing. The understanding that people don’t need the same thing from you, even when situations look similar on the surface. Those instincts were learned shift by shift, conversation by conversation.

That’s why I believe pubs are training grounds for life, not just hospitality. They’re places where people learn confidence, boundaries and accountability early on, where mistakes are made and learning from them quickly matters, and where teamwork isn’t optional.

Pubs are also one of the few places left where different ages, backgrounds and moods still mix without an agenda. That matters culturally in business. They teach you how to be with people who aren’t like you, and how to hold your own without being harsh.

The last couple of months have reminded me of how much pubs continue to give our communities, and what they have given me. The instincts I still rely on, and the standards I still carry. The way I work with people now is rooted there, whether I’m conscious of it or not.

Some places shape you quietly. Pubs are one of them for me. And if working in a pub was part of our children’s education as they become young adults, I’d be fully supportive of that.