What can I get cha?

Back in the late twentieth century, I was a bartender. It's not a lifetime occupation for most people so, inquiring minds often wanted to know what my 'real job' was. Was I a student, working my way through law school perhaps? Work in a factory? Sell real estate? No. Well, did I do anything resembling honest work?

I did painting on the side when stuff came up but, frankly, the bar money was good and, given the late hours and the whoring I did after work, I didn't have to have two full-time jobs. At times I worked with my BIL painting and hanging paper for him. He'd say he'd pick me up at eight instead of the usual six-ish for a 7am start because he knew I was used to working nights. I said don't worry about that as I can get my ass up early enough. But, he insisted. It occured to me that he wanted to sleep an extra hour and I was the reason. He's a very smart guy.

So, one afternoon this dude is sitting at the bar and he needs to know what my real job is. I tell him I paint on the side and he feigned interest in that for a bit but, clearly was going through the motions of Bar Talk 101, a course I had actually barely passed in Bartending School. If I hadn't gone on a basketball scholarship....  He then asks what I did in my spare time that might be more interesting than painting. Well, then as now, I write.

"Have you been published?"

No, I hadn't.

"Then you're not a writer."

Oh. Well, that's one way of looking at it. It might even be the way of looking at it. Hell, I was in my twenties. My goal wasn't to write the great American novel or a sitcom. I just enjoyed writing then as now.  I thought the guy was kinda ignorant and dismissive. I didn't like him. I asked what he did in his spare time (when he wasn't drinking in a bar at 2pm, annoying a bartender) and he replied:

"I play golf."

Are you in the PGA?

"No", he was not.

Then you ain't no golfer, says I.

He wasn't at all nonplussed by this. I had never seen the guy before and he left shortly after this exchange.  Honestly, I think he was kind of a jerk and used to being treated like a jerk in kind and really didn't seem to care. Like maybe that was his real hobby?

Tending bar, I think, prepared me for the internet. I had to be quick and think on my feet. And, like 'Roadhouse', I had to be nice until it was time to not be nice. We weren't beating people up but, verbal sparring could break out at any moment.  I was ready far more often than not. When I was good I was very, very good. And when I was bad, I was better.

Last call!