There are many types of customers, some we liked, others we hated. Most are fine, polite, and just want decent service and food. Being a professional oriented bartender I never had a problem with them. I’d give good service, they’d reward me with a fair tip, small talk was kept to a minimum, and I didn’t have to charm anyone. Some are more warm and expect social interaction, but as long as they aren’t annoying and compensate you financially they’re alright.
Other customers are, rude, dumb, difficult, or frankly just garbage human beings. They include passive aggressive or initially mean people, but most of them back down if you show a spine. The worst are the toxic or outrageous fucks that have to be cut off or thrown out. In my experience 95% weren’t worth appeasing to get mostly crap tips anyway, and I’d rather call out bullies than bend over for pennies, nickels, and dimes.
Then there’s a final category. The customers you build rapport with, are happy to see, and even become friends with. They are the “1 out of 1000.” Barry was one of them.
***
It was the middle of winter and cold as fuck outside. I life in Saskatchewan and that winter in particular I refer to as the Frozen Hell. Despite that, there was a decent crowd in the pub, the second best place in my career. Unsurprisingly, most of my customers had driven there, despite the conditions, thanks to our famous Fish & Chips special. The clientele was mostly working class folk and professionals, who’d drink one or two beers, and gave me no issues.
Around 7:30 the door flew open and a strong, cold chill barrelled in. A man in full winter dress, including massive, furry boots, walked in and stomped the snow from them onto the mat. He saw me, gave a friendly smile, and said hi. I returned the favour but my first impression was he was a bit odd. Partially due to his demeanour, but mostly due to his braving the elements in garb similar to Han Solo in the opening 30 minutes of The Empire Strikes Back.
He was tall, Caucasian, in his late 60s, and had a slightly stocky build. The man was large enough to possess an intimidating persona but this evaporated once you met him. Because Barry ranks comfortably among the top 5 kind, easygoing, and honest people I’ve served in a 17 year career. I can’t remember much from the first time I met him, but I knew by the end he’d be a great person being to serve. Because everyone can be a customer… but so many are incapable of being a decent human being.
Barry was friendly, patient, tipped well, and said he’d be back. Often whenever a customer, especially a cheap or annoying one, says they’re coming back a cold shiver runs down a bartender’s spine somewhere. But I remember feeling pleased I’d see him again.
He came to the pub once or twice a week, enjoyed 2 to 3 drinks, and never caused me grief or bothered anyone. Over the months I served him we got to know each other. Barry worked at city hall, had a wife and two kids, and was an accountant. He was just a simple, intelligent, accomplished man. Barry meant well, treated people with respect, and lived his life in peace. There was NOTHING fake about him. No hint of vanity and arrogance, or the inclination to show off his well-earned wealth. Nor did he succumb to the sanctimonious slogans and bigoted opinions that are too common for boomers, who grew up in easier times.
Because if I had a penny for how many times I’ve heard boomers tell young people to pull up their boot straps, or fear monger about foreigners taking over, I could fund their outrageous pensions and have JUST enough left over for younger generations to enjoy a fraction of their lifestyle. If some are uncertain what the best generation was (it’s the WWII one btw) most people know what the worst one is.
***
Anyway, Barry was nothing like that and I never hesitated to buy him a drink at least twice a month. Because the best regulars should be rewarded and appreciated, he never asked for anything, and he always tried dissuading me from giving him freebies.
There’s no singular story or great moment to highlight my relationship with Barry, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Because too many entertaining stories are fuelled by drama, scandal, and conflict. And not only did Barry’s easygoing manner preclude that, but he wasn’t around when shit hit the fan. That’s not as fun for the reader but it’s okay with me because violence, controversy, and conflict in a bar is funner to hear about than to experience firsthand… or be the one who has to quash it.
No, what I remember most about Barry were the quiet, insightful conversations we had. Sometimes they happened incrementally, between my various tasks around the bar. Other times they developed more organically, when it was dead and I could talk for more than five minutes. But the best moments were when I took a break, had a staff meal, or enjoyed a beer around last call. Because there were FEW people, in a long… tiring career, I liked enough to spend all my free time with during a shift.
I can’t remember everything we talked about but it never got heated, despite us being close and always honest. This was mostly due to Barry’s gentle nature but also because I trusted him enough to let my guard down, drop my mask, and speak to him man to man. I’m sure we talked about life, relationships, politics, and current events. Barry usually had a more relaxed view of things and was more forgiving of human folly… perhaps by gaining wisdom from age and the fact accountants don’t get beer bottles thrown at their heads during office hours.
But Barry was clever enough to realize some people are just pricks and assholes often need a… physical response to set them right. Because one day we had a quick chat after some obnoxious customers left. They weren’t bad enough for me to get aggressive but a few strategic slaps to their faces would’ve at least beaten some of the built-up insolence out of them. After a bit of venting about this Barry interrupted me. I expected him to tell me to let it go, or turn the other check, but he said something I never forgot. “Andrew, some people just need a good ass kicking.” Barry had never uttered one mean or aggressive word before and I was taken aback… in a great way.
“He gets it,” I thought. Because so many kind, intelligent, and well meaning people (which Barry was in spades) think every confrontation and misunderstanding can be solved by diplomacy, de-escalation, and a bit of love. How adorable I always thought whenever I’d experience this, so Barry’s reaction was most most welcome.
Btw, I don’t blame family members, friends, and non-industry colleagues, who’ve expressed such sentiments… or think I could be a bit of a hot head at times. Because generally a gentler approach is correct. But for those 0.25% of times in the bar when bullies try riding roughshod over patrons and the staff a HEALTHY dose of the stick works better than honey.
***
But that was the only harsh, though fair, thing Barry ever said. Otherwise, he was a Saint and got along with everyone. He remains the only man, apart from Bryon and Fred, who sat at my bar I asked to watch things while I took a piss or closed the patio. Because unlike Moe with Barney Gumble I knew Barry wouldn’t jump behind the bar to suck the draft taps dry with his lips.
I lost contact with Barry after the pub closed, without warning, in September 2019. Given we never hung outside of work or exchanged contact info I’ve never seen him again. Since Barry and most of the regulars at the bar were a the best people I served this saddens me.
Because while there are countless former bosses, colleagues, and customers I never want to see again (and would debate throwing a lifebuoy to if they were drowning) there are those I admired and got close with, that slowly vanished from my life. When I was much younger and had many friends Bryon told me to enjoy that since as you age people move away, have families, or just start dying off. And as my career went on I’ve seen this play out and it would come crashing into my psyche the day Bryon died.
It was only then I truly realized people come and go and you should never take those you care about for granted. But it was too late…