Bar-room revelation

Things have changed since I was young.
But not exactly the way I thought they had.

I was in a bar a few weeks ago, and it was hopping. There was live music, a happy crowd of interesting people, and great “craft” brew, my favorite. We were sitting at a table, and I volunteered to get the beer from the bar, knowing that I would get service faster than my boyfriend. I love this about being a woman – yes, even though it’s sexist and maybe even wrong. Fact: women get served faster. Unless, maybe, the bartender is a woman.

Anyway, I shouldered my way in so I was sandwiched between a couple guys sitting on bar stools, then waited to get the attention of one of the bartenders. They were excessively busy, harried, even. But there weren’t that many other people who had shouldered their way in to call out their orders. Maybe the guys were still filling table orders for the wait staff. I tried to catch someone’s eye, get that registration of, ‘yes, I’ll be right with you.’ And, eventually, I got service, walked back to the table, pints in hand. But it took a while.

I heard later from our friends, who own the restaurant, that they train the bartenders to avoid eye contact. It’s a survival technique, they explained – when the place gets busy, the staff need to focus on one thing at a time and not get distracted by ten orders being shouted across the bar at a time. I wasn’t very convinced, and told them I’ve never experienced this sort of thing before, it must be a new technique. I gave them the whole shouldering-in speech, the women-get-served-faster theory. “It really used to work, I don’t understand what’s changed – I guess bars aren’t the way they used to be.”

And they gently told me that bars haven’t actually changed. I have.

Right. I am no longer in my twenties.

Last week I attended a conference in New York and wound up alone at a brew pub, where I sat at the bar and waited. And waited. Until finally the bartender came by and asked me what I’d like. I wanted to try a couple of their more unusual beers. He poured me two taste-size samples, then disappeared. For a long time. Way down at the other end of the bar. It took him forever to come back to take my order.

Behind me were a cluster of foreign-accented, well-dressed young people. Next to me, three attractive young theater people. Several similarly young folks were scattered across the other end of the bar. I must have been the oldest person there by 20 years, and I suddenly realized, people no longer notice me in this sort of crowd. I am simply another drinks-and-dinner order.

There’s something about humility that makes me want to order another beer. If only I could get the bartender’s attention.