No longer wanting to be awkward around straight men, I took my fear straight on and became a bartender.
I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t nervous clocking in on my first day as a bartender. I had been 21 for less than a year and knew virtually nothing about alcohol beyond keg beer and jungle juice. Regardless, the job opportunity had presented itself and I needed to pay rent, so I took the position despite my concerns. However, worrying about identifying different liquors would not be the biggest thing I would have to conquer. It was having to talk to straight men
At first, my focus at the job was on avoiding mistakes. I fixed my position on the quiet side of the bar, opposite from where my guests had seated themselves throughout the evening. I figured the anxiety of potentially getting an order wrong paired with having in-depth conversations with customers would all be too much for someone just starting. Of course, I greeted everyone who came warmly and was attentive to any needs they might have had but made sure to keep my visits to the busy end of the bar as limited as they could be until I was more comfortable.
The only interaction I had with most of the men was when they would applaud me for being tall enough to reach bottles from the top shelf. I was content with this and would have been more than happy to maintain my role as the tall guy, but I would soon be confronted with my worst fear; a bourbon enthusiast. My plan of avoiding people was over, and I was swimming in the deep end.
It did not help that when he asked me for a glass of a specific bourbon, I could not even locate where they were on the shelf. With the unexpected help of this stranger, I was able to quickly retrieve it and get to work on preparing his pour. Thankfully, this mistake allowed me to joke about my fresh start in the world of bartending. With this came a casual conversation that led to us discussing his failed request for a promotion at his workplace.
His visit was short-lived, but we were sure to exchange our names, and he said he’d see me next week. I kept it short, but was sure to try and remember his name for our inevitable next meeting.
From a young age, boys have learned from their peers that they will become guilty by association, so as a defense measure, they will avoid anyone they believe to be gay. I’ve noticed that for some, this way of thinking never changes. As a result, whenever I am in a one-on-one conversation with a seemingly straight man, neither one of us knows what to talk about. I had grown tired of this monotonous routine and planned to challenge it directly.
In my bartender position, I aimed to push myself beyond what makes me uncomfortable. Making drinks for people would allow me to get past my anxiety about discussing things beyond the weather. Not only would it impact the way I interacted with men, but with everyone in general. I would soon view the bar top as an intersection to overcome preconceived ideas shared by both parties before sharing a conversation over a drink.
But at first, I was still timit - rightfully so. Early on, I had overheard a few of my coworkers talking about how trucks sometimes drive by, and the drivers scream derogatory terms to the other gay servers working at the restaurant. As you could probably assume, this did not help my case. My nerves were already sitting at the back of my throat, and hearing some of their stories did not help wash them back down.
Baby steps were on constant repeat throughout my first couple of weeks in my new position. Slowly, I had gotten comfortable with the majority of the women and the younger audience would frequent the restaurant. This was not particularly surprising, as I have always found it easy to talk about things with women specifically. One time, I spent the better half of an hour talking with an older woman about how she hides out during halloween, because it’s all too much of a ruckus.
Bourbon guy returned. I had started off on the wrong footing after mistaking his name for something else. Making sure my faulty greeting did not taint the experience, I asked him about how work has been treating him, and began to prepare a pour of the bourbon he had asked for during his previous visit.
Soon, I was not only conversing with him but was juggling a handful of conversations throughout the evening as well. This included talking with a mother about her deployed son who she was missing dearly, sharing a couple jokes with the younger crowd and pretending like I couldn’t hear the argument of an older couple at the end of the bar. I felt myself opening up to these people with each garnished drink I delivered to their seats.
Of course, I have had my run-ins with awkward or entitled people, as does anyone who works a customer service job. Thankfully, the majority of them were easy to talk to, and if I were lucky, already a couple of drinks deep. Although draining at times, I proudly sat within my newfound ability to converse with any and everyone.
After a couple of months working as a bartender and a ton of reflection on my role, I have come to some conclusions. My anxiety was rooted in things like remembering a name or getting a drink made just right for my guests. I grew to realize that none of these problems had to do with my perceived sexuality. Once I was able to get this out of the way, my overarching perfectionism took a backseat as I no longer felt an immense amount of pressure to deliver.
Of course, I had all the reason in the world to have the fears that I did around sexuality too, but slowly I began to realize the role I had played in creating this. I had believed for so long that a straight guy would not want to converse with me, so when the time would come that I did, I would make it awkward.
Moving forward, I will continue to be prepared for the time to come when someone expresses their opinion on my “lifestyle choices,” but until then, I will no longer allow it to interfere with a potentially pleasant interaction, experiences that not only benefit me but will hopefully do the same for my customers as well. Not everyone has a problem with how I live, but just want a drink and someone who will listen to them.
Bourbon guy continued to come in for the remainder of my time working at the bar. We continued our normal conversations about his work and how school was going for me. He became a regular amongst me and my fellow bartenders who was welcomed with a hello from everyone on the floor when he would arrive. After ending my time at the restaurant, I was more sad about leaving my customers that I had grown to enjoy. Customers, who were once the reason why I didn’t want to show up, were now the reason why I wanted to stick around.