My perception of bartenders primarily came from television, i.e. Miss Kitty in Gunsmoke and Sam from Cheers. While I had been known to spend sometime in bars when I was in college, those establishments changed bartenders routinely. It wasn’t until about nine years ago I wandered into a ‘hood bar, where I discovered a weekly trivia game, and became a regular customer. Because it’s a relatively small business by Phoenix standards, I eventually knew the owners and many of the employees.

When I conceived an idea for a new novel, I set it in a neighborhood bar, and then realized I knew nothing about its day-to-day operation. After receiving an invitation (or a dare) to be a “guest” bartender, I jumped at the chance. Not only would I learn something, it couldn’t be that hard, right?

I psyched myself up yesterday before I went to my three-hour shift. I would do anything they asked; no job was going to be beneath me. I would fully immerse myself in this opportunity, but I would NOT use the computer ordering system, nor handle any cash or credit cards. In turn, they had me sign a waiver of legalese, which was fine, except for the clause on acknowledging bartending involves inherent risks, such as…” and unruly and potentially violent customers.” Really? Doubtful at 1:00 in the afternoon. WTH, maybe that would be great novel material!

What did I learn? Probably too much to share in a blog, but ALL of the customers yesterday were spectacular, polite, and fun folk. Folding and rolling silverware is tedious, as is slicing far too many lemons. I’m too old to carry more than two drinks or two sandwich platters at a time. Playing with the drink dispenser hose is fun, as long as I’m wearing glasses. Without glasses I couldn’t tell if I was pressing the water or the soda button. Same was true with the beer tub. I served light Heineken’s, instead of hi-test. (My biggest faux pas.) We, Americans, throw away too much food. Cooks or quasi-chefs are temperamental divas and must be constantly praised and thanked. Bartending is not easy, especially when someone orders a White Russian!

Finally, I learned the old, bottled-blond mare ain’t what she used to be. Today, she’s exhausted.