Be a duck.
“We’re like ducks,” a fellow bartender told me.
Having a lifelong infatuation with ducks, particularly baby ducks, I was intrigued.
“We’re cool, calm, floating along, doing our thing up top, and furiously moving underwater to get to where we need to go.”
It made perfect sense.
Behind the bar, we glided effortlessly around each other, even when it was six deep on the weekends. A tap on the left meant move to the right. “Behind” was your warning that there was probably at least four cocktails in the hands of the person behind you, so freeze, right where you are. Very few words were spoken between us, but we knew exactly what every person was drinking, what food they were waiting on, and most importantly, their name. At any one given time, I knew the names of 24-50 guests sitting at the bar. Twenty-four seats, but probably 2-3 people standing per guest. We were a well-oiled machine.
The taps, the “behinds” and the replacing of bottles was something that was never seen or heard from a customer level. All they saw and heard was their 12-ounce martini being filled all the way to the rim, with a gentle reminder from the bartender to sip before picking up. All that was seen or heard was laughter coming from Dawn’s section, as she continued to entertain her regulars with her quick wit and sharp tongue. All that was seen or heard was the printer going off in the east side well, and probably a glass or six breaking if Kristen was working that well. They were here for dinner and a show. The show was the most important part.
The bartenders at Charley’s were the best bartenders in Tampa. Hands down.
I saw a couple bartenders cycle through while I was there. Some fired, some moving on to bigger, better “real jobs”. Now that I have a “real job”, I realize that bartending was the “realest” job I’ll ever have.
Where else but behind that four feet of highly polished cherry wood can you learn about someone’s entire life in the span of 15 minutes to two hours? When else but after three martinis do you realize how vulnerable your patrons are, as they spill their dirtiest secrets? Where else can you call major league baseball players and hockey players and football players and celebrities by their first name, they know yours, and you’re not a “groupie”?
Now you know why I miss it. Now you know why it’s hard adjusting to the lifestyle that I’m living now. Now I work 8:30-5:30. I go home after work and make dinner, unwind for a bit, then am usually in bed by the time I’d be getting through the late rush at the restaurant. It’s so different.
What I don’t miss? Explaining that I wouldn’t be in the industry forever. Convincing my patrons that I was worth more than a whole lot of wine and spirits knowledge, that I had something to offer besides quick wit and a smile. What I don’t miss? The lifestyle that comes with the industry. I never fully immersed myself in it because I was in school full time, working two internships and was at the restaurant six nights a week. I didn’t have time to develop the party lifestyle to the fullest. I don’t miss the kinds of people that worked there. Bar staff and management excluded, everyone else would throw each other under the bus. They were all money-hungry and would stop at nothing to make sure they covered their own ass and no one else’s.
We were like ducks. Cool, calm, and collected on top, with a whole lot of chaos going on down below. Hopefully that’s a skill I can carryover to my next life, my life in my office, my life in corporate America… to be a duck.
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