“Hope is a weapon, survival is victory.” -Dunkirk, 2017

I walked into the piano bar for an interview during the lowest point in my existence. It was 11 years into my career and I couldn’t get a bartending job to save my life. Some of it was due to the state of the industry at the time and some of it because I was at rock bottom and hadn’t made a good impression during many interviews. But if I had to be honest, much of it was the bad reputation (rightly or not) I had made in some quarters of the industry. While I was recently fired from the worst, most toxic, job I ever worked at, I had burned more bridges than the Russian army in 1941. Word to the wise, when you’re younger it’s tempting to call out obnoxious bosses when you leave a crummy job, but it’s hardly strategic.

Things were so horrible the only thing stopping me from suicidewas how it would hurt my parents. I’d also registered to go back to university and felt my demise could at least be delayed by a semester. I always wanted to finish my history and political science degree but life and struggling to keep stable employment in a volatile industry kept frustrating this. Alcohol and easy tips had also created an assembly line mentality where I rarely thought long term. Then there was the cute girls, gambling, adrenaline when you serve, and the fact I could sleep in and not bring home any work. These are all pluses when you’re a slightly misanthropic writer.

I was a mental and physical wreck when I showed up for the interview. I’d had two previous nervous breakdowns in my life and was still working through the 3rd one. But as much as I needed the job I don’t remember being scared. Eight years later I don’t remember why but it’s likely I had been beaten down so much and had so little hope, confidence, and warmth left, that my giving-a-shit meter was at 0%.

Sometimes that’s an advantage, especially in the bar industry. I’ve often said bartending “is all acting and it’s all bullshit.” Whatever my personal flaws during my career I always (okay mostly) came through in a crisis, no matter how much my existence hung by a thread. So I had shaved, dressed well, arrived early, and walked in with a wide smile and aura of invincibility (which was obviously fake). That’s another common theme in the industry, the line between charming the room and the temptation to throw a drink tray at the wall is narrower than you think.

The GM sat me in the most remote corner booth, the kind where managers snort cocaine and waitresses give after hour blow jobs. I put on my game face, prayed for the best, but expected the worst. I’d no clue the next 6 minutes would alter the trajectory of my life for the best… because sometimes it’s darkest before the dawn. Thank god I wasn’t hungover or had slept in.

***

A few days earlier I had walked in with a resume. I saw the job online but hadn’t been there before. I’m not sure why as I heard nothing bad about it. Most likely, it had been too far away from my home to be a viable place to leave my car and I didn’t want to spend the cab fair to avoid a DUI.

Having never been there, or hearing about it, I felt it was worth a shot. On a cynical note, it was one of those local bars you could start at and prove yourself before a bad reputation, fair or not, would sink you. I could’ve just sent an email, with a lame cover letter, and hoped for the best. But I was intrigued by my city’s piano bar and wanted to experience it.

You can learn a lot about a bar from the first 5 minutes you’re there. While it’s unfair to form a lasting impressing by one visit, as they can have a bad day, or their weaker/drunker staff was on, it’s still a good rule of thumb. Like first dates your initial instincts are more reliable than you think.

The bar was nicer, darker, and more sexy than I expected. There were no customers in the large, open lounge but to be fair it was 2 p.m. on a Monday. The lighting was fine, the music wasn’t obnoxious, and I formed a positive impression of the place.

I saw a short, red headed woman behind the bar and walked towards her as friendly as possible. We had a quick, polite conversation as I handed over my resume and she asked what days and hours I could work. As she quietly wrote them down I knew I should make small talk and show enthusiasm, to give me an edge over the 0-100 candidates they were considering at the time. Small talk was never my strength but for once I said something charming and strategic that flagged me as someone who at least merited an interview.

Most likely, I blurted out something like, “you know, it’s really nice and cool in here.” I’m sure that sounds lame but I executed it in the most tactically astute way. She gave me a real smile, agreed, and I walked out with cautious optimism. I had no idea that short, red headed woman would become my favourite manager in a 17 year career.

***

But that’s all hindsight and the interlude (the interview) between the lowest point in my career and what turned out to be my best job was neither glorious, or well executed on my part. We all have those interviews we thought we aced, were told they’d call us, and then received nothing but silence. We’ve also had those interviews where you fall on your face but somehow steal victory from the jaws of defeat. For me this one was definitely in the latter category.

I cannot recall most of the details, a common occurrence in my memoirs, but I remember the ebbs and flows of the exchange. At the beginning I crushed it, because bar interviews usually begin the same and I’ve memorized the expected responses. You give a firm handshake, make a joke, offer a friendly observation of the bar, and engage in idle small talk.

During the middle I did okay… most likely. I answered industry specific questions, those used to weed out rookies and potential psychopaths, without falling into obvious traps.I call such questions “the agreed upon lies:”

“Would you serve someone who is drunk?” I said no, even though it always happens and it’s how we get the best tips.

“Do you like people/enjoy being around them?” I said yes, despite knowing after year 2 of bartending even the most sociable people, who serve annoying customers in general and suffer backstabbing colleagues in particular, can begin to feel contempt for the human race.

“Tell me about a time you had a disagreement with a colleague and how you resolved it.” 

NO one likes this question and my answers have varied over the years. My go to, even when hungover, was “I spoke with the individual in a professional manner to resolve it…” what a joke! In functional bars that usually works but with bullies and toxic people a healthy dose of escalating to de-escalate is often needed. Sometimes it ends in a shouting match but generally the offender thinks twice before crossing you in the future. That’s why since I left the industry I promised I’d never lose my temper with colleagues ever again.

White collar professionals and the supposed “more educated” find this abhorrent but most haven’t worked in an industry where swearing, sexually harassment, and the prospect of a beer bottle being thrown at your head is more common than you’d think.

***

As we moved to the next part of the interview I began to stumble. If you aren’t hired by now, common at revolving door restaurants where owners don’t understand why poorly treated workers leave, you enter the third phase. This is where you’re asked detailed questions about the place to see if you care about the job. If you’ve done your homework, or at least scanned their food and drink menus online, you can usually squeak through.

However, I’ve sometimes neglected this step, either out of contempt of the industry, thinking I could fool the hiring manager, or heavy drinking the night before. This time was no exception. The details are vague but I got a B- for the drink menu, C- on the food specials, and regarding Piano bars and their music… the less said the better.

By now I was nervous and wanted the ordeal over ASAP. The GM, to his credit, was nice and friendly throughout the process. But his decades of experience likely sensed my blood in the water, as any respectable GM would. Thankfully, the interview was near the end and he asked what days and hours I’d want to work, which was good. Then he said there was another interview in a few hours and he’d phone me the next day if I got the job, which was bad.

We got up, shook hands, and he thanked me. But I saw in his eyes he wasn’t sure about me. I gave a weak smile, nodded, and walked out of the bar. While stumbling out the door I wasn’t hopeful… I gave my odds at less than 50%. If the other interviewee made a great impression I was toast. Shrugging my shoulders I got into my car, drove home, and thought of other bars to apply at.

***

My phone woke me up the next afternoon. The volume was on max and I was jolted into consciousness by the theme from Ridley Scott’s Gladiator. I had passed out on the couch next to 12 bottles of Coors Light after watching CinemaSins all night. It was obvious who the caller was and I struggled to return to adult mode to answer the call in a professional manner in 6 seconds.

I’d like to think I answered with “good afternoon, this is Mr. (my last name), how can I help you?” More likely, I limped through with a simple “hello” in an obviously exhausted tone. The conversation was short but I got the job and told to come in the next day. I thanked the man and fell back asleep… no doubt with a cautious smile on my face.

As I passed out again I had no clue this moment was the desperate break I needed after 6 months of continuous misery and hopelessness. The piano bar would have the best owners, management, staff, and even clientele in my 17 year career. I also had some of my best moments, dates, and hilarious anecdotes there. But such stories are for other times.

I often wonder where I would’ve ended up had I not gotten that dream job. While I had the prospect of going back to school for motivation I know (with hindsight) I wouldn’t have done half as well had I been stuck with another mediocre, let alone toxic, job. But sometimes you get lucky and the cosmos align. I don’t believe in karma, god, and especially that everything happens for a reason… but occasionally things happen that makes me challenge this.

But as a student of history I always remember how ‘what ifs’ could have decisively changed the trajectory of great events. Because I could have slept in, been hungover, or fell flat on my face during the interview. Or the other guy could’ve knocked his interview out of the park, or just been better looking and more charming. But maybe he never showed up, slept in, or his car broke down.Maybe he was even more of a wreck as a human being that day and I just got lucky.

I’ll never know, but the Piano Bar was the turning point I needed in 2017 that turned my life around.