Don’t bite the hand that feeds you

The two of them sat down early in the evening. I always tell people if you want a seat at a busy bar, get there early or get there late, because the devil lives in the middle, not at the edges.

They were both past the age of punching a clock, or writing up an invoice, or sending out a bill. It was evident, if not from their appearance, then from their manner because they certainly weren’t in any kind of hurry about anything.

She had tasted three different wines. But when it came to whiskey, there weren’t going to be any tastes. Hard liquor is expensive, especially by volume. If I put any visible amount in a glass, it’s going to be at least a ¼ ounce. Liquor drink measures are typically 1 ½ ounces, which further means that if that shot is $18, then that taste is $3, and that is not insignificant. A ½ ounce taste of wine at the same $18 glass price is half of that cost, and that is twice as much by volume. But no matter what, it all adds up.

“Harrumph,” said the man to that.

And if you’ve never heard a harrumph before, trust me, you’ll know it when it happens.

I had to explain the above to the man thrice, not because it was a difficult concept to understand, but rather because he wasn’t trying to understand it.

Sometimes I envy my friend, the hair stylist, partly because of his clever banter but mostly because of his independence. He only has so much time in the day, and once that time is filled, it’s filled. Sure, he might have to field a pressuring phone call here and there, but there’s a simple fix even for that. Don’t answer. What he’s not going to get is someone coming down and staring him down while he gives someone else a haircut. No checking of the watch or tapping of the feet (or the finger), and certainly no harrumphing around the periphery.

In the restaurant business, we get who we get when we open the door. No amount of wishing or wanting is going to change that. It’s the same with cover charges, dress codes or attitude. You get what you get, and that’s that.

Midway through that third explanation, a group of six entered the bar. They found four empty stools, and the four seated women faced the two standing men. Champagne, Sancerre and lemon drops were ordered, as were craft beers and whiskeys neat. In less than 30 seconds that group of six had spent nearly three times as much as that couple had in 45 minutes.

And they were fun — boisterous, laughing and self-encapsulated. They didn’t need any outside influence. When people tell me a bar sucks, I always wonder if the bar actually sucked or if perhaps it was the people themselves who sucked, because I know that I can have fun anywhere. It’s different, of course, if that bar is trying to take advantage. But it’s also different if the people are, too.

“Excuse me,” said the man in the first couple, raising his index finger.

I was busy making that group’s second round, so I raised my index finger back at him.

“Give me a sec,” I said, delivering another $120 worth of drinks to the cheering group.

“Jack! Jack! Jack!” they all chanted, because somewhere along the line they had asked my name and got it confused.

But you know what? As a bartender, I’d rather be cheered by the wrong name than scolded by the correct one.

“What can I do for you?” I asked when I finally made it over to the first man.

“As our bartender, what are you going to do about people being obnoxiously loud?” he asked.

I looked over at the six people having fun and then looked back at the two of them with their split salad and split entree, as well as four nearly empty wine-tasting glasses.

It was really those tastes that cinched the deal. She had wrinkled her nose mightily at each one. In one case, she had even stuck her tongue out as if gagging. When she selected the least expensive one, I had moved to clear the refused wines only to have her admonish me.

“What are you doing?” she had asked. “I want to finish those.”

My decision was easy.

“I’m not the fun police,” I said. “They’re just having fun, and I’m not going to tell them to stop.”

That couple left me a $3 tip on $65 (less than 5%). That group of six left me well over $100.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• Don’t like the bar? There’s always the dining room. Just saying.

• If you believe that other people need to change for you to be happy, you are going to be very unhappy for a very long time.

• Some people aren’t looking for egality, they are looking for advantage, and that’s altogether different.

• The definition of a win-win: If Jack gets a complimentary letter, I will explain the name confusion to management. If he gets a complaint letter, then I will merely ask, “Who’s this Jack guy?” Because sometimes winning simply means not losing.