Read the room

I walked into the bar and immediately noticed four women sitting or standing at the bar. That confusion stemmed from their skirts. All four had on skirts that were so short that it would be virtually impossible to sit on them if one were sitting on a barstool. So they sat or stood with their skirts fluttering about, or above, and leaving an observer confused. I also noticed the abundantly high heels and thigh high stockings.

Halloween comes early, and Halloween comes late. It is one of the few holidays where the actual day of the event is inconsequential. People dress up long before and long after the actual day. Unlike the religious holidays, or even New Years Eve, on Halloween the where and when are less important than the what.

“What do we have here?” I said to the 21-year-old plus foursome, just as I probably would to any such foursome knocking at my door looking for treats.

“I am a nurse,” said the one in white stockings.

“I am a witch,” said the one in black stockings.

“I am a cop,” said the one in blue stockings.

Their costumes were identical, except for the colors and an individualized hat.

Halloween is really the kickoff to the holiday season, and for all the fuss over what we call the “holy days” no one seems to make a fuss about Halloween, a day specifically linked to Samhain, a Gaelic/Celtic pagan holiday.

But pedantic bar logic is usually limited to such mundane distinctions as which whiskey is the best. As if there is such a consensus, on anything, much less whiskey.

“And what are you supposed to be?” I asked the fourth woman in a short red skirt and thigh high red stockings.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I am not wearing a costume.”

Read the room, they say. And boy I read that wrong. In the bar business nothing functions the same every time. We bartenders have to adapt. It doesn’t pay to be a Giants fan when the bar is full of Dodgers fans. And bartenders are there to get paid after all. Literally.

So, I did what I always do when I make a mistake like that. I avoided them. Luckily in the bar business there is always another end of the bar. So, I spent the bulk of my time at the other end. Perhaps a younger version of myself would have tried to fix the initial problem. But I am not younger anymore. And not single either.

The other two couples weren’t together. At least not in the foursome sense. They were a set of two separate couples.

The guy in one of the couples was wearing a big blonde wig, and his companion was wearing suspenders and a bowler hat with a wispy drawn on mustache. A man dressed as a woman, and a woman dressed as a man. Clever. Or so they thought, because they mentioned it more than once.

The other couple was different. Two women dressed elegantly for a night out. These weren’t costumes, but then again it was still four days until Halloween.

The two women were celebrating something else. What it was I didn’t know, but champagne was ordered. One of the women was over six feet tall, not including the tastefully just so high heels. Both wore classic gold jewelry and had modestly manicured nails. They could have easily been sisters, except for one thing. The tall one had a very pronounced Adam’s apple.

I have learned to notice things. Noticing is not the same thing as judging. And noticing sure helps in the service equation. See Dodgers/Giants metaphor above.

And a good default I have learned is to retreat into professionalism. Personality is great, but it’s not great to everyone. A joke that some will laugh at, is not a joke that all will. But good solid service is always appreciated. Unfortunately, not everyone knows that.

“Would you guys like another round?” I asked the first couple.

“We’re not guys,” said the man.

Another thing you learn in the service business is that as aware as you might be, the person in front of you can be completely oblivious.

“We’re both women. Get it?” he said.

Yeah, I got it.

So did the other two women.

And then so did he. Especially when he realized that the taller of the other women outweighed him by fifty pounds and had six inches in height on him. And clearly lifted weights.

He didn’t think his joke was so funny after that realization.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

-I don’t care who you are or what you do. Just do it respectfully. Or else you can leave.

-The word whiskey is based on the Celtic/Irish word “uisce breatha” which means “water of life.”

-There is no one right answer, which is something you learn after working with the public for a quarter century.

-One of those two couples were much better tippers, I’ll leave it to you to figure out which.