"So, is that your girlfriend?" the man behind the counter queried.

It wasn't an unexpected question, really. I'd been into his bar at least 5 times, and almost every one of those times alone. There was no reason for him to believe that I had any friends, let alone a girl whom would frequently have sex with me, and that wouldn't ultimately end up in itty bitty pieces in a chest freezer.

"Yup." I offered.

"So, how long have you been dating?" he continued.

I told him the duration, he countered with a toothy grin "I'm recently single. Hell, I've only been a doing this since June (meaning bartending), and you wouldn't believe the hot women I pull on a weekly basis. It makes no sense!"

I think he was more surprised than I was. I've been to many different bars since I started drinking, and most of the time I'm a casual observer because people amuse me. They're silly. I like seeing people interact when they think nobody is looking. I watch how a female customer interacts with a semi-attractive bartender(hell, even the less-than-attractive ones) , and then how the same customer completely ignores, say, a much better looking barback or waiter, and the difference between the two interactions--or the lack of interaction thereof--is staggering.

The bartender gets fellatio eyes while the barback gets a much less desirable look of disgust. How is that fair?

I'm not saying this is solely reserved for the male bartender/female drunk scenario. There have been many a times where I've thought a girl was more attractive because she was pushing me a full pint glass. When I see that girl out in public, in broad daylight, I wonder, oh my god, what was I thinking? 

Obvioulsy, I blame the alcohol like most drunk girls would, but it's got to be more than that, right?

How does the average bartender recieve almost rockstar-like status? While I realize that being a great bartender is almost an art form, (and the ratio of great to acceptable is very, very low), being a run-of-the-mill bartender does not require any skill. None whatsoever. So, you can mix me a passable drink or open a beer bottle in terrifically douchetastic fashion?

Big fucking deal.

***************************************************************

Last week I was out with some friends that I don't normally go out with, at a bar I don't usually frequent. I was talking to a friend of a friend, when she asked me about my part-time job.

"So, are you a server or bartender at Solera?" she said.

"Neither, I work outside as a valet." I replied, almost ashamedly.

"Oh." was all I got back.

Oh.

And then she completely shut down the conversation, as far as I could tell, because I don't serve martinis to pretentious a-holes in my time away from my job that actually pays the bills. Perhaps she just ran out of small talk(possible), or maybe I'm a terribly boring individdle(also entirely possible), or maybe she found out my Geo Prizm has 130,000 miles on it and smells like the dumpster at Red Lobster, but talk about feeling like not only a second rate service industry employee, but a second rate person.

I don't talk about my feelings much here, if ever, but if you believe that whole 'feeling like a second rate person' tripe, you're an idiot. Christ, it's not like I have a vagina, people! Thank god.

But I do feel that had I responded with "bartender", I have no doubt that her clothes would've come off a la Naked Gun, and she would've proceeded to tongue my perineum right there at the table, even if it was just for cheap Flirtinis.