Bartending: Day One

I can't say I came into bartending by choice. In fact, it was never my intention when I started working at one of the busiest hotels in my little college town. And yet, it helped me, an awkward introvert by nature, come out of my proverbial shell and grow into a more confident, and dare I say, more approachable person. The latter might be disputed by my closest work friends. Apparently, I have a hard RBF.

Anywho, I was about twenty-one when one of my managers nonchalantly called to me from his office as I was clocking, "you're bartending today." At first I thought he was kidding. This manager thought it was funny to scare you in the beginning of your shift by saying things like, "oh, by the way, you have a twenty top waiting for you once you get on the floor." I'm sure many of my fellow food industry people have had a manager like this at least once in their food service lifetime.

To my chagrin, he wasn't kidding this time. "So and so called off," he said, not even looking away from his computer. "But I don't know a thing about bartending," I replied. "You'll figure it out," was all he told me as he shooed me away. That was how it started, and for the most part, I loved every minute of it.

My bar was by no means the biggest or fanciest. The bar top only sat five seats. Six if it was busy and people didn't mind being shoved close together. The lounge itself only holding four, four seater tables and one high top table that could sit ten or so people. The carpets were old and outdated. The wallpaper, artwork and general design of the hotel was clearly a cookie cutter desert motif that some hotel designer who had never even been to the southwest had conjured up.

In short, my hotel was aesthetically tired and had not been updated since the mid nineties. I'll tell you though, this, along with the equally nineties water feature that snaked through the atrium style lobby did not affect the amount of foot traffic and business that came in every day. You'd be surprised how quickly a twelve hour shift can breeze by when you're running around like a chicken sans it's head. Especially during a dinner rush when a traveling Broadway show was playing at the University concert hall a ten minute walk away from the hotel.

But, I digress.

Let me tell you about the saddest man in the world.

I strolled into my bar, thankfully the bar was still empty. I usually started my shift in the early afternoon and didn't get home till about midnight or later, depending on how busy it was. Franky, I didn't care what time I got home as long as I knew I was making good money. I also couldn't leave until I had gotten all my work done and everything was clean and tidy. Not necessarily because management threatened me with strict rules, but because I had been raised by hardworking immigrants who took pride in hard work.

I can already hear my mother's telling me, "it doesn't matter how modest or humble your job is. Whether you are scrubbing toilets or running a big company, take pride in what you do and do it well and you will have nothing to be ashamed of."

As I was setting my things down in the backroom that housed our keg cooler and refrigerators, I heard the familiar scrape of a stool being pulled out. I walked out from the backroom tying on my apron with a smile on my face. There sat a disheveled, middle aged man with heavy bags under his eyes and his tie askew. "Hi!" I greeted in my cheery, talking to a hotel guest voice, "what can I get you." The gentleman in turn did not return my greeting, but simply said in a monotone voice, "Coors light, please." I cracked open the beer for him, poured it into a frosted glass and set it before him, but he didn't take a sip. He merely wrapped his hands around the glass and stared at the marble countertop. I let him sit there for a bit as I finished setting up the bar and going about my opening duties. However, every time I looked over at him, he was still in the same slumped position, his beer still untouched.

Now, in our particular hotel brand, we are always encouraged to make connections with our guests so they can feel like they are among friends and people who are generally happy to see them. Now mind you, at this time in my life, I was still very shy about talking to strangers and holding conversations with them. So, I said, "did you have a bad day? Why do you look so sad?" I thought for a moment, that he was going to ignore me, but to my surprise, he finally looked up at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen.

"Well, I just found out that my wife of twenty years has been cheating on me the whole time and to add insult to injury, I don't even know how many of my five kids are actually mine."

I'm sure if it could, my stupid smile would have fallen off my stunned face. I was at a loss for words. It wasn't like he had gotten laid off or had to put his dying dog down, I could relate to that. I was a snot nosed twenty one year old that was still getting the hang of paying my bills on time, what in the hell could I possibly say to this man? He looked down again and stared at the bottom of his glass.

I had nothing, and I'm sure he knew it. He looked up at me expectantly and I felt like his pleading eyes were asking me to throw him a lifesaver. So I said, "All I can really say is I'm sorry and I am here if you'd like to vent." He shook his head dismissively. "I don't want to keep you from your work," he argued. I smiled at him and gestured at my empty bar. "I don't exactly have a lot of people vying for my attention, now do I?" This got the first smile out of him, albeit a very small smile that barely quirked the corners of his mouth.

So, I got him to order lunch after he told me he had not eaten since he boarded his plane on the east coast and we just talked. I mostly listened, actually.

For the sake of anonymity, I'll call this man Pete.

Pete went on to tell me about his life and how he and his treacherous wife had been high school sweethearts. They ended up getting married young because she got pregnant with their first child. As the years went by and one baby came after another, Pete started to notice the changes in his wife's behavior. He even confessed to me that he had always worried that he actually loved his wife more than she loved him. He showered her with expensive gifts, nice cars, a beautiful house and pretty much anything she could ask for. He worked hard so that she wouldn't have to work and could be a stay at home mom. Unfortunately, few things kept Pete's wife happy, and this led him to aim higher and higher to get a genuine smile out of her, but it rarely happened.

Years went by and Pete and his wife grew more distant, through no fault of his own. The house was usually a disaster when he got home and Pete would usually have to make dinner for the kids because she had not found the time to do so. The older kids started graduating from high school and headed off to college and of course dear, sweet Pete paid for all of it. He even hired a nanny/maid to help around the house because he felt bad his wife had to deal with kids and housework all day. Instead of saying "thank you," she apparently looked at him like he was an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

By the time they had sent off the third kid to college, Pete and his wife barely spoke, even when they were in the house at the same time. When Pete would kiss her goodbye when he needed to go out of town for work, instead of saying "I love you," she would say "Yeah ah huh, I gotta go run errands. I'll see you later."

Pete didn't divulge to me exactly how he to got the truth, but he did tell me his wife was very unapologetic about it. She claimed she wasn't happy and had not been for a long time. That she was bored. Apparently, she had been keeping a secret boyfriend for years, and didn't even bother to use protection so, Pete could very well have supported another man's children while said man slept with his wife. The sad part was that Pete loved his wife with all his heart. He told her that he would change. That he wanted the marriage to work. They couldn't possibly throw away twenty years of marriage. Pete's wife was unmoved. She didn't care what he did and she candidly stated that she had no intentions of leaving her boyfriend.

As Pete told me this story, other patrons started to come in as Monday Night football was going to start soon as well as the dinner rush. I encouraged Pete to interact with other guests while I attended other customers. As the night progressed, I watched the dark cloud dissipate a little more as Pete laughed and bonded with other guests over sports and what not. He even got a little advice from a handful of guests that had gone through messy divorces. All in all, Pete had a great night towards the end of the evening.

As the crowds dwindled with people heading off to bed, Pete still lingered at the bar while I shut everything down. I cleared his empty glasses and asked him how his night went. He smiled and said he had fun. The most fun he'd had in a long while. He even thanked me for listening to him and helping him get out of his funk, even if it was only for one night.

The right thing to say finally came to me.

"Well Pete, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I will ask that you consider this at least: don't make sacrifices to people who can't appreciate how much it costs you. And for god sakes, please learn that you are worth more and deserve better than this." Pete smiled at me warmly and squeezed my hand in both of his and promised me he would do better for himself.

Several year passed before I saw Pete again, but that is a story for another day.

To be continued...