I just got a new job at the bar that has been open for approximately I have no clue how long. It is awesome and I never expected to put an application in there because... well, you'll see why.
Last year sometime the Shift Change had gotten fairly...er... rough. So I started taking my pistol to work with me. I have no idea what the legalities are concerning firearms and bartending, but I figured in a worst case scenario, I probably wouldn't really care.
It was a Diamondback 380, a lightweight Glock-looking thing that I often forgot was even present in my waistband.
Which is were this story begins.
I had closed the bar early, at about 1:30 in the morning and decided to stop at this new bar in town on my way home. The pistol was tucked securely in my holster and covered by my sweater.
Some of you may not know that I spent most of my teenage years and most of my adulthood selling guns in a local gun shop. I am probably too comfortable around guns and sometimes am a little surprised by other people's reaction to them.
So... there I was in this new bar, drinking a beer and probably a shot or two, which would explain why I suddenly became so warm while playing pool and decided to remove my sweater, completely forgetting that I had this little tiny gun tucked into my waistband.
Fortunately, there were few people in the bar. Unfortunately, the owner was one of the few people seated at the bar. He tapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, "Um. Excuse me? Ma'am? Is, uh, that a revolver in your back?"
I was confused for a second, before replying with a sort of smirk and a what the fuck expression, "No. It's not a revolver. It's a 380." Because sometimes I forget that maybe some people do not know the difference between a revolver and a pistol.. And at that particular time I forget also that this guy probably doesn't really care. "Its a new one, that Diamondback. Wanna see it?" I ask this guy as if maybe I am going to sell it to him right there in the bar.
The man's face mirrors my what the fuck expression.
He asks me very politely if I would mind taking the gun to my vehicle. I do not mind. I am suddenly feeling a lot like an ass. So, the gun is stashed in the minivan and the pool game is resumed.
A few days later one of my regular customers at the Shift Change tells me that I ought to go in and apply at this new bar and I maybe blush but probably not. I do look down at my toes and mumble something about maybe waiting a while to put an app in. The customer goes on to tell me how awesome the owners are, and I do not mention that I have met one of them.
A few weeks ago I am talking to an old friend of mine. He indicates that the bar is looking for bartenders and we make plans to go have a beer at the new bar and feel out the owners a little bit. I tell him to not mention the gun if he doesn't mind and he giggles at me. I meet the owners who ask if I can come in for an interview the next afternoon.
I am relieved that does not appear to be any spark of recognition on the man's face.
I show up the next afternoon, late for the interview of course, because after a night of drinking with this old friend, I frequently place my car keys in the most asinine place one can think of... or not think of when they are stone cold sober.
So I am already nervous as Hell when I walk in and attempt to explain my random key hiding habit and the man says suddenly, "You know, you look a little familiar. Were you in here that one time with a gun?"
I could have denied it out loud, but my first reaction was to cover my face with my hands and think, Aw shit. After that I am reasonably sure they would know I was lying if I denied it. I could have blamed it on the twin sister that I do not have... but they were both laughing.
I started the job that night, and have been absolutely loving it ever since.