As a bartender, you aren't given many choices as to where to spend a moment of downtime during your shift. You don't have a computer to surf Facebook or a truck to take a nap in. You can either walk to the right or you can walk to the left. Given these limitations, when presented with a moment of peace, you have no choice but to stand and look busy. This means one thing: I am listening to your conversations.
One of my favorite cocktail waitresses at the country club I used to work at lovingly called this attribute “cocktail ears.”
If you do a little cheap Google research you’ll find out that there truly is something called the Cocktail Party Effect- when our brains are able to pin-point specific sounds among a background of noise. So, if you’re at a party with loud music blaring and drunk girls screeching you can still focus in on the conversation you’re having with your future ex-husband.
Much like a tumor that I never asked for or expected, my cocktail ears have developed over the 9+ years I’ve been working in the hospitality industry into something I can no longer control. Which means that, lucky for you, I hear just about EVERY conversation going on in the bar (whether you think I do or not).
So whether you are reprimanding your boyfriend for his questionable choices at last night's BBQ, you’re on the phone chatting it up about the success of your latest anti-depressants, or you’re a group of dudes ranking the racks of every girl in the bar…I hear EVERY. WORD.
And my radar is not limited to patrons at the bar. So if you think you’re safe sitting at the table by the bathroom to pass off that dime bag, think again my friends! When you've worked behind the bar for long enough, the physical tasks (like pouring a beer or shaking a cosmo) operate on auto-pilot. Much like driving a car. So listening to a conversation across the room doesn't require much effort.
I've dropped in on conversations revealing the results of STD tests, how much a good blow job should really cost, what color to paint your walls in order to feel happy, what the best ratio of ketchup to burger is, the year the aliens will return to earth to claim our souls, or the best place to buy discount codes online. I know about your athletes foot, your bodily functions failing, what kind of underwear you're wearing, your sexual preferences, and how you like your butt hole tickled with a peacock feather. I know if you're going to order another drink long before you ask me AND if you're going to stick with the same thing or try something new. And no matter what I always smile and innocently ask "how are we doing over here?" as if I didn't just find out that you masturbate to crime scene photos.
But don't worry: your secrets are safe with me (…unless you masturbate to crime scene photos...) Just remember that while you’re at a bar- unless you are a master of telepathy- nothing is safe. And above all else, whether I just found out you’re an Olympic medalist or a kiddy-diddler, at the end of the day it’s my job to just smile and pretend I never heard a word.
