Bartending

Fun fact about me: I was a bartender at one point. My nickname was “Kiki.”

This was in the smallest town imaginable with white picket fences and American flags. The kind you see in postcards. It had one stoplight, an old single-screen movie theatre in the strip downtown, a grocery store, a barber shop, a book store, a breakfast joint, a bar and a fraternal club with a bar.

I bartended at both places.

At the fraternal organization (kind of like a VFW or Moose Lodge), each of the members had their own beer Cozy behind the bar. For those of you who don’t know what those are, they are a foam sleeve that keeps the can cold.

Some of them were pretty beat up, but the members expected us to know which one was whose. It was pretty funny because most of them were retired and had great stories.

I learned a lot about people from bartending to be honest. I learned about compassion for people I had previously written off. I learned to love people in general deeper than I ever thought possible. I became intimately involved in the lives of dozens of people. I became the confidant of many many people. I was there for great sorrows and great celebrations. I am not the best at keeping jobs so neither of them lasted for very long, but they were my favorite.

When I go visit that small town, (which is rare nowadays), people still yell “Kiki!” down the street or across the grocery store. It’s hilarious.

Just a little levity for the Daily Prompt: Cozy.

Image from Pixabay