Just a drink

Last night while I was bartending, a women came in to have a drink. Now, this doesn't happen very often at my restaurant because our bar doesn't have an ideal set-up for this. Usually when people come in and see it, they turn around and go somewhere else. But this lady was not detoured in the least bit.

After a few sips of her gimlet, it became clear how utterly alone she felt. Her mate, as she referred to him, had died suddenly from cancer just five months ago. The weekends were the hardest because she didn't have work to distract her. She said she had to plan the whole 48 hours out just so she could keep herself busy. Over the past month, the entire process of planning was exhausting her.

As a bartender, your secondary job is also being a counselor. Most of the time it's just small chat, but every once in a while you encounter some big chat -- and this definitely fell under that category.

This weekend was especially hard since all of her plans disintegrated, and most of her friends were busy with other things. She went to a matinee show, and then stopped at our place on the way back home. She said she always took it for granted the content feeling she had during weekend mornings when she cooked breakfast while her mate sat and read the paper. No plans, no agendas, just the happy feeling of being with the love of your life and not having to say or do anything. You can just be.

She paid and left her half-empty drink at the bar, probably not able to see that some day she might view it as half-full again. She said she'd be back sometime soon, but I doubt it. Hopefully she'll be able to keep busy enough next weekend.