My salad dressing days


Why I never go to bars
November 2, 2007, 3:38 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

“Let me get the drinks!” I announce with the confidence of a novice.

I step up to the bar and wedge myself between the omnipresent solitary guy who is nursing a pint whilst eye-ing up the female talent in the room and another guy who is taller, burlier and louder than me.

My Respect For The Principle Of Queuing gene means that I am initially quite relaxed because I recognise that there are at least three other people dotted along the bar who have been waiting to be served longer than me. Nonetheless, I whip out a tenner from my wallet and wave it around casually, as appears to be the modus operandi.

Once my three fellow customers have  been served, I adopt my quizzical ‘please serve me’ look. This involves raising my eyebrows and cocking my head slightly. The bar staff (one grungy studenty male and one perky female in minimal attire, both in their 20s) succeed in looking right past me to a guy who has shuffled up behind me and who – it appears – is ordering drinks for two rugby teams and their support crew.

Just as I think the male bar steward is about to serve me, his boss comes along and asks him to bank his till. He does this and disappears. Meantimes, the female bar steward has hit upon a flirtatious stag night at the other end of the bar and shows no intentions of returning.

I stand on tiptoes and swap my tenner for the next demonination up. I fold the cute pink twenty in half lengthways and flick it around between my fingers as if it was a cigarette. Amy Winehouse booms through my viscera.

Still no service.

I start to sweat. I am absolutely 100% sure that the solitary guy next to me has decided that I am a total loser. I sense his silent sniggers and sarcastic sideways glances.

My sister taps me on the shoulder.

“You alright here?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll be over in a minute.”

But really I am DYING INSIDE because NO-ONE WILL SERVE ME.

Finally another bar steward appears and wanders over to my end of the bar.

“Oooooh, me next! Me next!” I yell shamelessly.

Another woman (young, thin, attractive), on the other side of Solitary Guy, pipes up.

“So, who was first then?” demands the bar steward.

I look downwards, a little sheepish, having quickly lost my battle-ready spirit.

The woman nods at me, no doubt in the spirit of the adage ‘age before beauty’ and Solitary Guy remarks: “At least you managed to get them back to this end of the bar!”

“Yeah!” I reply, enthusiastically.

But then I realise he is directing his comment at the nubile twenty-year-old.

*******

This is why I never go to bars.

I’m too old and I suffer from a chronic lack of bar presence.

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10 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Oh, how I feel your pain. That would be me, so completely and totally. All the way down to the last comment from Solitary Guy and how you initially took it.

You NAILED that scenario. Nailed it, I say. Good job!

Comment by cardiogirl

Too old?! You most certainly are not!

“So, who was first then?” demands the bar steward.

That’s a killer though, isn’t it?

You have poise and charm. Stuff bar presence!

Comment by marshaklein

Wait till you are a 50-year-old woman with white hair, then tell me about being invisible. I know exactly how you feel.

Solution: dye your hair bright red. It worked for me for 22 years. 🙂

Comment by Bela

Oops, I meant to write ’59-year-old woman’. Wishful thinking. (And how pathetic is it to be wishing to be 50 again?!)

Comment by Bela

Great story. (I used to tend bar and always served the people waving money first!)

Comment by Simple Blog Writer SBW

It’s not just you. I’m 6ft, 14-and-a-half stoneand still manage to disappear off the radar every time I approach a bar. This even happened during the mid-90s when I developed a (since repressed) taste for brightly coloured shirts, as was the fashion at the time.

Comment by Malc

i’m so feeling this! hate the idea that good girls finish last but it seems to be increasingly the case! grrrr

Comment by rivergirlie

Ptcha. You were just in the wrong type of bar.

Comment by Hannah

Happy New Year, LH! Hope to see you in 2008.

Comment by Marsha Klein

Oh God I too am one of The Overlooked in bars, I hate them. Always best to let someone else buy the drinks. I’m sorry this is the first time I’ve been able to drop into your new blog, it looks great. Happy New Year and may 2008 be great for you and all your chicklets.xx

Comment by OvaGirl




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