�I�m sorry I said those things earlier.�
�It�s ok, I�m a bartender. I�m used to being offended.�
He laughs�I was supposed to say, �I can�t be offended.� But I am, all the time. This didn't even happen at the bar; it happened at the office, when the married guy declared himself a horrible flirt and thought that gave him permission to do so. I did what I do in those situations: stare blankly, and walk away. I refuse to dignify that behavior with a response.
I am constantly offended at the bar, of course. Once, someone threw $5 at me and told me to take off my shirt. I stood there with my hand on my hip and pointed to the door. I still take offense to the verbal affronts, but I try to plus it.
Standing behind the bar, slinking back and forth like a German Shepard on patrol, I only ever hear snippets of conversation. Sometimes, they�re funny:
�Were you there for his dick-in-a-box phase?� some guy says to his friends while I�m clearing their glasses.
�Wasn�t everyone?� I throw back. It doesn't even make that much sense, and really isn't funny at all, but that's the nice thing about entertaining drunk people: they want to laugh, and will, at anything.
Like the Australian guy, who asked for water in a plea to avoid "[getting] as drunk as I usually do.� At some point, he enunciates very clearly, �Thank the heavens for girls with low self-esteem.�
In my head, I say, �On behalf of all those girls, go fuck yourself,� but I just used that line on the guys next to them. People laugh when I, all dolled up with patient smiles, tell them to go fuck themselves, and I love it because I get to say what I mean and people don�t think I�m a bitch; they think I�m funny.
Instead, I turn off my sweet smile and glare. I glare, and I walk away, still facing the asshat to maintain the glare while my body continues on to the next drinker.
Later, after he switched back to beer:
�I�m sorry I said that before. I�m really not that bad,� he insists.
�You�re only as bad as the things that you say,� I tell him, which isn't funny, but he laughs anyway. I walk away quickly. That's the nice thing about working around drunk people; there's always someone else that needs tending to.