French Canadians and Sexy Bar Eyes

When you work in a restaurant, crazy and absurd things inevitably happen more often than say, working behind a desk answering a phone. Take, for instance, the night a three piece brass band stopped in front of our place to play a single tune and then keep on walking. Or the night Marc Jacobs’ after party decided to roll over to our little cafe. Or the morning of September 10th when a woman named Pamela called to talk about her experience on September 11th. Crazies are unavoidable when you’re ushering people in and out of your place of work all day long. And one night a few weeks ago, was no exception. It was my first night working behind the bar and, as I am completely inept when it comes to making drinks, I was nervous. Don’t get me wrong, I do make a mean mimosa, I make a great vodka on the rocks, but ask me for anything requiring more than two ingredients and I’m screwed. That being said, I armed myself with what I’m going to call my “sexy bar eyes” and well, to be frank, my…well …my boobs. I figured customers couldn’t get too mad at me for messing up their drinks if I had given ‘em the eye and showed ‘em a bit of cleave. Around 7, two guys came in and sat at the end of the bar. Pretty cute. Looked normal. I was safe to employ “sexy bar eyes” and hopefully increase my tips. Thank GOD, all they ordered were gin and tonics, two ingredients, I can do it!!! So I had already impressed them with my mixology skills now I had to show them my expert ability to bar chat.

“So, uhhh, you guys from around here?”

A stupid question considering their obvious French accents.

“No, we are from Quebec, here till Thursday on a business trip.”

Ah, French Canadian. Alright, well, that’s cool too, I suppose. We struck up a conversation and I was amply impressed with my flirting skills and my expertise behind the bar… well sort of. Anyway, the French Canadians stayed for a few more drinks and promised to come back in before they left town. I told them my schedule and never expected to see them again. WELL, my my, if I wasn’t wrong. I didn’t work the next day, but hell if they didn’t come in looking for me. And hell if they didn’t come back in the next night, when I was working (and a crazy f’ing shift) just to say hi and see if I’d like to have a drink after work. The cuter one, the one I’d been predominantly interested in, got my number, gave me a kiss on the cheek and made me promise to call him after I got off. “Hmmmm.” I thought. Am I really the bartender that picks up men on the job? “Hell yes, I am” I was excited. I got a good tip and a date with a hot French…Canadian…guy!!!! I called him when I got off and he told me he was at a hotel drinking with friends. A hotel? Yikes. Am I trashy enough to meet a man at his hotel? “Hell, yes, I am!” I jumped in a cab and headed over to the Meat Packing District to see him. When I arrived, he had a drink waiting for me, gave me another kiss on the cheek, and told me how happy he was to see me. He also informed me that I have an incredible way of looking at people that just catches one off guard and intrigues them. Sexy bar eyes DO work!! We stood there for a few more moments before my French Canadian date decided it was time to lay it all on the line.

“I must tell you,” he crooned.

“What?” I coyly replied.

“I have two kids and a girlfriend in Canada.”

Pause for awkward reaction and my consideration that sexy bar eyes, might attract not only sexy French posers but also sexy French posers with GIRLFRIENDS.

“Oh, oh, okay, well that’s cool. We’re just having a drink”

Cut to two hours later. The French Canadian and I had talked for two hours about his failing relationship, his love for his kids, and the difficulties of monogamy and family life. I told him “I know, I understand. Listen, my parents hit this wall at 15 years, but they worked out. And you know what, if you can’t work it out, it’s fine. You have to do what’s best for your kids.” It was a full on counseling session and I was feeling pretty good about my listening skills by the time I decided I needed to get to bed. He walked me outside and I said my goodbyes to which he replied, “ It was so wonderful to meet you, will you come to my hotel room?”

Really?...Really? After all that, all the counseling and understanding. Ugh, I am NOT that trashy…am I?…NO, I am not! I jumped in a cab and headed back uptown. It must have been a full moon that night because as soon as I got into the cab, the driver offered me a cigarette. Awesome! And proceeded to tell me that he needed to talk to me. “Okay, this night can’t get any weirder” I thought to myself as I told the cabbie to spill it. Well spill it, he did. His wife of 13 years had divorced him three years earlier and was now, after he’d lost 100 pounds, trying to get him back. He, however, has moved on and just did not think he could get back with someone who divorced him. I told him, no way, you are BETTER than that, look at you, you’re in shape, you look amazing and you can find someone who’s not going to use you. Be so glad you don’t have kids, you are free to be you! Needless to say, when I got out at my apartment, I felt like we were old friends. I wished him luck, told him to be strong and he thanked me for listening.

As I said, working in a restaurant will put you into situations you never saw possible. All in one night you can find yourself counseling your date and your cab driver on their relationships. You can make some mad money. And you can realize, hey I DO have sexy bar eyes, strong morals, and although I don’t know how to make a mojito, I do have some amazing listening abilities!


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