It starts with a question

(CW: drinking, dying, unsafe environment)

If you really want to know someone don't talk to their family and friends. Talk to their hair stylist, their nail technician, or more importantly, talk to their bartender.

“What can I get ya?” I asked the young lady who walked in alone. She in her 20s, long blonde hair and green eyes. She was wearing a waitressing uniform and looked like she just finished her shift.

“Wine. Red.” She said as she took her seat at one of the barstools and placed her face in her hands. I placed a glass of our house merlot in front of her.

“You ever have one of those days where nothing goes right?” she asked as she took a sip.

“Who doesn’t?” I responded.

“First my alarm doesn’t go off this morning which made me late for work, then I get to my car to realize my husband didn’t fill up the tank like he said he would. Tack on another 10 minutes late. And when I finally get there my boss is in a mood like no one’s business yelling at the kitchen, the waiters, even the poor host who’s only 16.” She let out a sigh.

“Sounds like it’s definitely been one of those days.”

“That was just the first half of the day, the second half wasn’t much better.” Before she could continue I was waved over by a man at the other end of the bar.

“I’ll be right back,” I said as I started to the man. “Hey there Bill. The usual?”

“You got it, Jerry,” he took his seat at the same stool he’s been at for the last 10 years, maybe longer since that was just the time I’ve worked here. Bill was an older man, a veteran of Vietnam and it showed in his grey hairs and wrinkled features. But you’d never guess it by his drink order.

“Vodka martini coming right up,” I said as I reached for some middle grade vodka and a chilled long stemmed v shaped glass. I poured the vodka into a nearby shaker filled with ice, gave it a quick shake and strained the liquid into the glass now sitting in front of Bill.

“How’s the family?” I asked.

“The kids are good, Jimmy finally got his first overseas assignment, Italy. Beth isn’t too pleased about being that far from her parents but what did she expect marrying a military man. Stacy is finishing up her last year of med school then off to complete her residency, she’s hoping to match somewhere on the East Coast.”

“Sounds like the kids are really growing up. What about Betty?”

“The chemo has taken its toll. The doctors aren’t sure it’s going to work” he sighed. Bill has always been a regular but he went from a twice a week regular to a daily regular after his wife’s cancer diagnosis a year ago. This happens a lot when people deal with things in life they don’t want to face, for him it was the possibility of losing the only woman he ever loved.

“I’m sorry to hear that…” I started before a group of men walked in and made their way towards the bar shouting. “Excuse me, Bill,” I made my way over to them.

“What can I get ya?” I asked.

“Beers all around and shots of the best tequila you have!” one of them answered clearly already slightly intoxicated.

I poured 6 beers from the tap and pulled a bottle of tequila from the shelf. They were so enthralled in their own conversation they barely noticed when I placed the shots in front of them.

“Cheers, to your last night of freedom,” one of the men gestured at another as he lifted his shot.

Since they didn’t seem to need any attention I decided to take this time to catch up on washing some glasses I had been neglecting until the blonde from earlier waved me over.

“One more glass then cash me out,” she said as she handed me her empty glass and credit card. I caught her glance wearily over at the men that just walked in. I nodded and refilled her drink before processing her payment and returning the card to her with her payment slip.

“Today was hard, don’t give up the belief that tomorrow may be better.” I never heard the second half of how her day but I’ve seen the look on her face many times before. The look of discontent and frustration with life.

She gave me a smile and I walked back over to the group who were once again demanding shots. I poured them another round before heading back to Bill who was finishing up his martini.

 “Staying for a second?” I asked.

“Not tonight,” he said in a quiet voice, “The doctor just called. They’re stopping chemo.” He reached for his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it.” I said pushing his card back to him, “Tonight it’s on me. Now get home to Betty.”

“Thanks, Jerry.” He said as he stood up and made his way out the door. I expect I won’t be seeing him for a while, and when I do I’ll need to keep an eye on him.

I noticed the guys who were now my only patrons had migrated to a nearby table of women leaving my bar empty but dirty. I took the moment to clear some glasses and straighten up.

When I noticed one of the women from the table making her way to me I reached for the bottle of tequila from earlier thinking she was coming for another round of shots.

“What can I get ya?” I asked when she reached the bar.

“Four angel shots, neat.” she said clearly sober. An order I knew all too well because we’d been made to recognize them as a signal when people feel unsafe.

I nodded. “Are you the DD?”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh of relief.

I motioned over to two other bartenders who were nearby.

“This lady and her friends need angel shots, neat.” I said giving them a knowing look. They nodded and without another word made their way over to the group of girls where they led them out of the bar and safely to their car.

“I told you they wouldn’t go for it,” one of the guys said as they made their way back to the bar.

“Can’t say we didn’t try. Andy deserves some fun before his big day tomorrow,” another commented.

“Six more beers!” the one named Andy called out to me.

“Sorry gentlemen, I can’t serve you anymore.” I cashed out the tabs they opened and handed them their cards.

“This is bullshit,” one of them hollered nearly incoherently.

“If I can’t understand you. I can’t serve you.” I said, “Now don’t make a scene or you’ll end your night in a cell.”

The men left clearly angry but it wasn’t the first time and won’t be the last time I cut someone off.

I had just enough time to get my bar cleaned up before a lone man walked in and sat at one of my stools.  I approached the man and thought about all the people I meet doing this job. The stories I could tell that start with such a simple question. The man looked up at me and I smiled before asking, “What can I get ya?”