So, some friends of mine opened a bar. I gladly help them out from time to time, picking up a shift or bar backing. Doing a shift as a bar back consists of bitch work. You know, taking out trash, making sure there is toilet tissue, cutting fruit. The things that make possible speedy drinks from the people doing the real work. As previously written, two years ago, I worked at an extremely popular bar in downtown Durham. Said bar is where i met the majority of the people i love the most in my life. Twas a wonderful experiance...TWO YEARS AGO.
So, when I guy I couldnt have picked out of a line up of people I have said two words to in my entire life asks me, "have you had another job since j&j", as i was pulling two giant bags of trash from behind the bar...you know, the gods of sarcasm blessed me. however, said blessing makes it difficult for me to not reply with a "no, I have been living under a bridge waiting with starving, baited breath to serve you again, you asshat." I am not really a person at all.
Why so bitter, one may ask. I really am not. I find that there is a strange and delicate balance withing the service industry. On the bus this morning, I recognized at least two people that i serve on a regular basis. They averted their eyes accordingly. I am uncertain if the discomfort comes from the fact that I know that they occasionally tipple a 10% Belgian beer at lunch time or the fact I live in their neighborhood. Is seeing a bartender in the daytime the grown-up equivilent of seeing a teacher outside of school??? OR, is the sight of the person that brings you your beer and whiskey even less than that strange childhood memory? Are we really just servants that occasionally inflate our egos to the point of thinking we actually matter to the people we serve?