Often bartenders get trapped in conversations they don’t want to have with people they don’t want to talk to. You can imagine how many wackos there are in the bars of New York City. For every one of those lunatics there’s a bartender who got stuck having some sort of conversation in order for them to buy a drink. Luckily, we’re pretty good at getting unstuck when the crazy folks start leaning across the bar to make their point. (which was what again?) If it’s busy then there’s not a problem… tons of things for us to pretend we have to do. When the joint is dead, we’re screwed. It’s a new type of torture. I’ll call it The Lower East Side Liquid Death Sentence.
Imagine being forced to talk to drunk Scientologists. I’ve actually had people follow me around while I helped other customers, yelling over their shoulders. (this is often about sports)
There’s no polite way to tell someone you don’t want to talk to them. Every time I’ve tried people get upset. The bar then transforms into a cage and I feel like a monkey at the zoo. Daydreaming comes easily for me, always has. (was real handy in detention) Usually when lunatics are talking to a trapped me behind the bar I’m thinking about something that has absolutely nothing to do with the present conversation. It was in this manner that I came up with a way to save us from the Earth’s imminent energy crisis. It will involve photosynthesis, highly combustible oxygen atoms, and these new baggy-things I saw in an infomercial that prevent veggies from going bad for “up to thirty days.” I’ll be back with more on this after I talk to my inventor friend… time for another Ideas Night.
