Moments Worth It – Marin Independent Journal

Most of us know the theme song to the TV show “Cheers.” But everyone knowing your name isn’t always as important as you might think – definitely, and ironically not in my business. In the bar business, for me it is more important to know your drink. Names come later, because no one ever taps their empty glass and says, “What’s my name again?”

It was the same with her. I definitely recognized her face. In fact, I even remembered her drink: a chocolate martini. But I couldn’t tell you her name. But for her it wasn’t the same.

“Jeff!” she said just before ordering two chocolate martinis.

I have a man who comes to my bar every week. He is friendly, intelligent and charming. And he always drinks the same thing. Strangely, I learned his name first, not his drink, the circumstances of which I can no longer remember. But because we did it backwards, I always have a hard time remembering the garnish for his martini. I can’t explain it, but there it is. Olive or twist? I have to ask every time. It has become an ongoing joke between us.

The woman, whose name I couldn’t remember, introduced me to her friend. And 30 seconds later I couldn’t have told you what her friend’s name was. But in a year, when this friend comes back, I’ll probably remember the chocolate martini.

This phenomenon occurs frequently in the catering industry. If I tell my restaurateur friend in Sausalito, “That’s the silver skinny margarita guy from Fortaleza,” he’ll probably know who I’m talking about.

“Have you seen Todd lately?” asked another woman I didn’t know at all.

“I don’t know any Todds,” I said.

“Yes, you do,” she said, a little annoyed.

“Maybe,” I replied. “But I don’t know you.”

Not remembering can often be an accident, but sometimes it is intentional.

Meanwhile, Miss Chocolate Martini was enjoying her chocolate martini.

“I know we don’t really know each other,” she said. “But in a way we do.”

People should realize that in a profession like mine, we meet a lot of people all the time. Some we remember, others we don’t. It’s not personal. Often times, someone I’ve never waited for before will tap on a glass for a drink I made an hour ago and say, “One more.” As if I could remember one of 100 different drinks, too remembering what you ordered to eat, where you were sitting, etc. Funny how many of these glass tappers also can’t remember the one drink they drank, and they didn’t make hundreds of them either. This also applies to people. I may recognize you, but I often don’t know exactly why.

Miss Chocolate Martini seemed to know this. And I appreciated it.

“I came into your bar about 20 years ago,” she said.

Okay, I thought.

“My husband had just died and I was just starting to go out again,” she said, pausing, her voice beginning to shake. “I would always come over and eat a hamburger in the corner all by myself.”

The circumstances sounded familiar, but 20 years is a long time.

“You were always so kind and patient with me,” she said. “You made me feel welcome and comfortable at a time when I didn’t feel particularly welcome and comfortable anywhere.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears. And then it was the same for me.

“You probably don’t know how much of a difference you made for me, but you did. And I will always appreciate it,” she said.

By now tears were streaming down her face, and they were streaming down mine too.

“I just wanted you to know that,” she said.

And that was it: a moment among a thousand other moments.

I’ve made a small name for myself through this column, through my articles for other publications, through my books, through the short film I contributed to, and through my podcast. And all of that is great. But it’s really those unique moments behind the bar that I treasure the most. Life isn’t always one big sweeping epic story, sometimes it’s a collection of much smaller stories. For every success, there are all the ordinary moments that led to it. By and large, there are more moments like this overall. And they are equally valuable.

Leave me with these thoughts:

• Sometimes the greatest kindness possible is simply being there.

• Now I will always remember her name. However, remembering her drink might be the problem. Really, I’m okay with that.

• To you it may be just another moment, but to someone else it could be THE moment. The world would be a kinder place if we all realized this.

• Happy Holidays to everyone whose name I remember and those whose drinks I drink! And everyone else too!

Jeff Burkhart is the author of Twenty Years Behind Bars: The Spirited Adventures of a Real Bartender, Vol. I and II, the host of the Barfly podcast on iTunes (featured in the NY Times), and an award-winning local bartender Restaurant. Follow him at jeffburkhart.net and contact him at [email protected]