Barkeeper's tale

There’s something poetic about working in a pub. Despite the long hours throughout the night and the uncertainty of stress, one can find out many secrets they did not know they were looking for. You can be such a stable structure for someone that you barely know.

It’s 9:00PM and the stream of regulars have begun to pour into the pub. Barely sundown on a midsummer’s night and the pub is packed. In the flurry of bodies entering the space for relief from the heat of the outdoors, in comes one of the Friday night regulars, Paige. She is a shy woman despite the tall stature that suggests she could be a model. If one were to look close enough, they could see that Paige hides behind loose clothing and dark colors. Her chestnut brown hair is kept tightly to her head in the usual bun. I’ve seen many people try to come up and chat with the tall beautiful woman; however, she prefers to sit and drink by herself.

Paige sits in her weekly seat to the left of the busy bar. She understands that this early on a busy Friday night, the front of the bar will be packed with people who are fighting for our attention. As usual, she is correct in her assumption – a pair of drunk college kids come up and clamor at the front of the bar, attempting to get the attention of my co-barkeeper, Clara.

Clara, catching sight of Paige, goes over to the two girls and takes their order. I flash her a smile as I turn to the shy brunette at the end of the bar who is glancing over the menu as if she isn’t a person of habit.

“Good evening, Paige,” I greeted her, cleaning off a beer glass. “What will it be tonight?” I ask despite knowing she’ll take the boldest draft of the night.

Paige purses her lips and looks up from the beer menu. “I was thinking about doing something different, but after the week I’ve had, I’m looking for some comfort.”

“Your usual then?”

She breathes a relieved sigh as she watches me pour her draft into her favorite glass – the only one in the bar that is a light blue. We used to have a set of multicolor glasses, but the light blue glass is the lone survivor. Good thing it’s Paige’s favorite color. “Thank you. I always appreciate your attention to detail.”

“Of course. You said it was a rough week – what happened?” I ask curiously.

Another heavy sigh leaves her lips, this time speaking of despair and exhaustion. She picks up her light blue mug and takes a polite swig of her drink, a smile dancing on her lips weakly. “We’ve had a big project at work that has been taking all of my time. I stay long hours and get home just to go to bed and do it all over again. My roommate has been telling me that my life is depressing and she just wants to see me happy. I told her that I will focus on whatever she thinks is the key to my happiness as soon as we wrap up this project, but that wasn’t good enough for her.”

I chuckle, understanding how pushy Paige’s roommate, Vanessa, can be. The first time that Paige had entered this establishment was because she was brought against her will by Vanessa. I remember the night well, as I had to stop Vanessa from not only jumping up on the bar and yelling to the entire crowd that her best friend was newly single, but also had to cut her off so they could get home safely. I learned that night that these two strangers did not live that far, so I was able to help them onto their street and keep an eye out to make sure that they were able to get home safely.

“Don’t laugh – you know she can hear encouragement from miles away,” she jokes, taking another gentle sip of her beer. Her smile comes a bit more naturally this time.

“I sure do. What did she think was going to solve all your problems?”

“You know how she is,” she sighs. “She still is on the train of thought that all I need is another boyfriend and I will be happy as can be. She’s not listening to me, or she doesn’t believe me, when I tell her that I just want to be alone right now.”

I’ve heard plenty of horror stories from Vanessa the few times that she has been in the bar the past couple months since the break-up happened. Vanessa had been much more theatrical and dramatic about the events than the ex-girlfriend in question had ever let out about the ending of the relationship. I don’t know which, if any, of the stories that I’ve been told has been true, as Paige has yet to confirm or deny the ramblings of her friend. From the look in her eyes, I can see that she is troubled at the memory of dating. “It seems like she just wants what she thinks will make you happy.”

“And I know that,” she agrees, “but her effort is misdirected. I wish she would just let me do what I need to do right now for my career. I spent so many years chasing the future I thought I was going to get with Solomon just to find that I wasn’t going to get it. I don’t want to waste any more time. I have to do this.”

Carefully, I wash the dishes that Clara placed by the end of the bar. Our routine is to let the other person take care of the crowd while we talk to our patrons. Unless it gets busy again, I will have plenty of time to be as attentive as Paige is needing at this moment. She had never given any details about her previous relationship, and here I was getting a name drop. I could tell that she was feeling overwhelmed. “That sounds miserable,” I empathize with her, hoping she knows that I am listening fully.

“It was,” she agreed. “All he ever wanted was to bleed me dry emotionally. His problems and his goals were all that we could focus on. At first, I didn’t mind because I wanted to support him.” Her fingers trace the rim of her half-emptied glass slowly. “I started to resent him, you know?”

“It’s not fair to be the only one giving emotional support,” I nod in understanding.

“Exactly. I don’t want to be caught up in something like that again. To me, that means focusing on things that I enjoy so that I can start feeling like myself. As much stress as work gives me, I do love my job.”

“Tell me about the big project you’re working on,” I invite.

Paige’s face lights up like a Christmas tree as she tells me about the project her company is working on. She works in marketing for a big pharmaceutical company that is currently doing experimental trials for mood management medication. I watch as the brunette opens up about her passion for the project stemming from her sibling’s fight with anxiety, as well as her own. As the head of the digital aspect of the project, Paige has been working on how to present the medication at the next big pharmaceutical conference. With the buy-in from doctors and psychiatrists, her company will be able to take the data and continue to further advancement.

“Wow, that sounds amazing.” I have to admit, most of the details go over my head, but I know it’s not the details that matter – it’s the listening.

She beams a bright smile. “I know. I’ve been putting so many hours towards this project because I believe in it. I want to make a difference. Sometimes I don’t know if Vanessa truly appreciates that, but I know that she is trying to make me happy the only way that she knows how – by pushing forward.”

A large crowd comes into the bar as the adult amateur baseball game ends. Clara gives me a wave from the opposing side of the bar and I know that my time is up. “Back to work I go,” I hum to my favorite song from the seven dwarves.

“Sorry for taking up all your time,” Paige apologizes sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”

“It is not a problem at all,” I assure her. “I will see you next Friday and I look forward to hearing about how your super secret project develops.”

Paige laughs, laying money down on the bar that covers her tab and tip. She is always too generous with her money, but that’s what working in a large company can allow her to do. As a courtesy, I never cash her out in front of her. “I’ll see you next time.” She hops down off of the barstool and heads towards the door in a much chipper manner than when she entered.

I turn to the group of guys in the middle of the bar and aid Clara in serving them. I flash my grin at the young men that come in after every practice and game. “Hey, boys – what will it be this time?”