Tending to What Matters

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I’ll bet you a drink that you’ve never met anyone who’s ever said, “When I grow up, I want to be a bartender.” Am I right? I’ll have a glass of Pinot, please.

But why wouldn’t you want to be a bartender? They have all the power in the world. They make a lot more money than most people and they’re often the center of attention. They get to converse with new and exciting (and often entertaining) characters while each shift throws them an entirely different highball, er...curve ball. They pretty much get to call all the shots at work—literally and figuratively.

Of course, there are down sides to this seemingly glamorous profession. Servers get antsy when their beverages aren’t immediately poured. Frozen drinks are hell to make during a dinner rush. Some customers think they’re the only ones there; others take offense if they get cut off. To-go orders can be the bane of a bartender’s existence. They must juggle at least 400 different items in their heads at any given time—so what if a glass breaks in the ice bin or a keg suddenly kicks?—all while keeping upbeat attitudes and Colgate smiles pasted across their faces.

Phyllis makes it all look easy.

A petite, spitfire lady with wild blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and an infectious laugh-slash-cackle, Phyllis definitely intimidated me the first time we met four years ago. I was a single gal in a new town, taking on a second job as a waitress to help make ends meet; she was the wisdom-filled woman with an attitude whose way I did not want to get in front of.

“Where do I get creamers?” I asked a waitress one night at the end of my shift. “From the bar,” was the automatic reply.

Crap, I thought. She was that intimidating.