With each shift my bartending skills were improving. The real challenge was dealing with the snooty guests. The fact that my new bartender status made me less appealing was bad enough, but the demeaning way some of the wannabe aristocrats spoke to me was disgusting.
Tonight the function was a fundraiser put on by the local business community. An attractive brunette in a low-cut dress that matched her hair walked up and ordered a glass of wine. I set a full glass in front of her. "There you are, Ma'am," I said.
She arched her eyebrows, looked at me, and said, "Can I have a cocktail napkin, please?"
I glanced at the pile of white napkins in front of her. My face hardened. I looked at her, tempted to say, "Help yourself." Instead I gritted my teeth, forced a smile, and handed her a napkin.
She snapped it from my hand. "Thank you so much," she said and walked away.
"Thank you so much." That must be the expression of the nineties because most of these women used it.
Ted was mingling with the guests. I watched for a moment as he stopped to talk to the cocktail napkin woman and the man with her. As they exchanged words, Ted looked at me. A moment later he approached my bar. "Jimmy, what happened with that woman?" he said making a head motion in her direction.
I glanced over his shoulder and caught her spying us from the corner of her eye. "Nothing," I said. "She asked me for a glass of wine and I gave it to her."
"She said she had to ask you for a cocktail napkin."
Mentally I rolled my eyes. "They're right here," I said. "I thought the guests were supposed to help themselves."
"You gotta schmooze these people, Jimmy. If she comes up for another drink make sure you apologize."
"Apologize?" I said. "For what, not handing her a napkin?"
"Jimmy, these people are paying a lot of money to be here. They want to be pampered. Just do it, okay?" He walked away.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish