Sometimes I love my customers, and sometimes I fucking hate them. Excuse my French, but just because you’re miserable about your life doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. I get one such customer Friday night. It’s two ladies – I’m thinking Mom and daughter – and the Mom has to complain about everything. And they’re my very first customers. As soon as they walk in she demands to know why they’re aren’t booths here. Adeline is with me, thank God, and tells her we’ve never had booths here. She basically ignores her and comments about how “things have changed.” Then she asks Adeline to turn the music down. Oh, this should be fun.
They order two glasses of wine on happy hour – she wants to know how many ounces I pour. Same as I do for every other customer, lady. It’s measured. And you’re paying five dollars so relax. They order a flatbread and I immediately tell them that the flatbreads take a while. I always do this because customers expect bar food to come out fast, but the flatbreads take longer than most things. I get them a basket of bread to keep them happy and go about my business. I get an early, unexpected rush at the bar. Miguel comes out and tells me the kitchen isn’t getting our tickets, so we have to hand write them. OK, fine. I think this is something new, but it’s not – the kitchen didn’t get my flatbread order. I realize too late and it’s going to take even longer. Fuck. This lady won’t leave me alone. The rest of the bar is cool. I like my customers, but because of this lady’s attitude and anger towards me, I’m all flustered. I mess up almost everyone’s order at the bar. I’m a mess. I can’t get anything right. I try to make her happy. I apologize and keep checking in the kitchen for how long it will take. I get them a round on the house. I wish I could not let her bother me, but she does.
It was a horrible start to my night. By 8pm my bar is empty, and I can breathe normal again. I get a few customers and the rest of the night is smooth. A little later, two guys walk in at sit at the end of the bar closest to me. Immediately recognize them. My memory tells me two things – they drink draft beer and they’re cool. I can’t remember why. Of course, they order two draft beers, and then they start talking to me. “Do you remember us?” Yea….? “Last time we came in you gave us the link to your website. We went home and looked it up and we’ve been reading it ever since.” I feel my face get hot as I’m flattered and embarrassed at the same time. Really? “Yea, that’s the only reason we know you’re closing, is because of your blog.” Shhhh! It’s not really public knowledge. “Oh, sorry.” I guess it doesn’t really matter. We’re closing and that’s the end of it.
Their names are Lance and Dick and they first start telling me all about…me. “We read all about you crying on the way while Mike didn’t know.” You started from the beginning?! Dick now. “Yea, seriously, I read it all the time at work. It’s one of my favorites tabs.” Wow, I’m getting really embarrassed. I feel like these guys really know me and I don’t know them at all. Dick is funny. “OK, I have a question.” OK. “Did Mike get the job.” The NFL Films job? “Yes.” No, he didn’t get it. “What??! He was perfect for it!” Oh, I love this! I mean, he’s never even met Mike and he was rooting for him. It’s so sweet.
After all this I really start to feel like a narcissist. Seriously, it’s not good and not OK. Lance and Dick know so much about me and keep asking me questions about my life and all I do is answer. I’m sorry, tell me about you. Lance is the quiet one. I don’t think shy, just quiet. He says his job title…something something marketing something. I have no idea what it means. Dick used to be an assistant for an actor. The three of them actually all live together now. He dances around telling me who the actor is but I press him. He knows way too much about me, for me not to ask. He finally tells me he’s from Twilight. Well, um I love Twilight. I think it’s the guy who plays Emmet Cullen. Cool! Although I’m sure being an assistant is not fun. Lance and Dick go on about how great my blog is, but now that we’re friends (I guess), they let me know the truth. “Some of them are just too long.” I get it. I agree. I’ve heard that from other people…mostly guys. I always feel like I have to write long ones, but I guess the old saying is true – short and sweet.
After a horrible start to my night, these guys end it on the highest note. Obviously, I don’t charge them for their drinks. How could I? They’re fans! Lance and Dick make my night. They make my entire weekend.