I watch the two boys work, and I think that I could never be in a serious relationship with a bartender. I polish the wine glasses, and I watch them smile, and flirt and call the girls "sweetheart" and the men "sir". I see a cocktail being made for the two girls leaning over the bar with their long blonde hair and lowcut tops. I wait for the line "a pretty drink for a pretty lady". I've heard it before, and I know it works. It worked on me, once. I know that it's unlikely anything will come from it. I know that if I got behind the bar, which I will, once these glasses are polished, I will flirt with the patrons too. It puts more money in the till that way. I'd let them buy me drinks. Another shot on the end, for the pretty bartender with a grin. I know that it's part of the job to appear available. Whether you actually are or not is up to you at the end of your shift.
I set my wine glass down, and pick up another. But I don't think I could. Not a serious something. The long hours, and Hospo culture aside, it's the flirting that would get to me most. I'm jealous like that. I wonder how actors partners do it, whether they justify it with 'its my job'. And then I think that I'd probably never be in a serious relationship with an actor either. So I shouldn't worry.
I focus for a bit on a stubborn fingerprint, and then I shake my head. I don't know who I'm fooling, really. A friend told me recently that it doesn't matter how cautious I am. How high my walls, how solid my fortress. I won't be able to stop it, if it's right. If it's right, then it doesn't matter if Prince Charming is a bartender, or an IT geek. A teacher, or a rugby player. It doesn't matter what he does, really. Because if it's right, you make it work. You put the effort in, and you do it with a smile on your face with a happy heart. It might not be easy, but if it's right . . . if it's right, you do it anyway.
I collect up the glasses, and carry them carefully behind the bar, slotting them into their respective places. Not to worry though. I haven't met Prince Charming yet, and I'm carefully not looking either. I turn around, ready to greet the next patron, and I lock eyes with a tall, gorgeous twenty-something. I smile, he smiles. He buys a round for his friends, and then a round 'just for us'. We tip back our shots. Then, with a witty one liner and a smile, he asks for my number. I act all demure, and I blush.
But before I can reply, a bouncy brunette in a short dress slips herself under his arm. I smile, as expected, and fetch her requested drink. I'm pretty sure Prince Charming doesn't come with bouncy brunettes. Ah well. Teach me right for thinking along those lines anyway.