Behind the bar, I’ve been privy to many awkward situations, including being threatened with death, having three guys waiting outside to beat the shit out of me, and I’ve even been mooned. Aside from the occasional viewing of butt cheeks, and potential violence, however, there’s usually only one or two general scenarios that occur: 1. Couples arguing. 2. Drunk people being cut off. Sometimes you’ll have people fighting over who pays which is an easy one to figure out (I just take whatever card comes first and tell them it’s restaurant policy). And every once in a while, a homeless person shows up and orders a drink (the easy way out of this is to ask for a credit card and offer them a bottle of Coke if they leave).

This is the common duality of bartending at a nice restaurant in Santa Monica. The only real conflicts seen are between the upper class trying to outdo one another and of course, the occasional glimpse of life out in the streets that’s right under our noses.

Last night, however, a new wrinkle popped up. A couple sat down, had a few drinks and paid, but continued to sit. The gentlemen then ordered another drink and when the woman ordered another for herself, he told her, “No, no more drinking for you.”

At first I thought he was just joking around, but she got angry and told him, “I guess you want to have a fight.” Oh crap. It was late, I was tired, my last day of the week and I didn’t want to deal with this horseshit.

I pretended I didn’t hear him and proceeded to make her drink for her.

“Don’t make her a drink,” he said. “She’s not drinking.” He glared right at me. Uh, relax dude, I’ve got a lot of weapons here behind the bar, I don’t think you want a full bottle of Grand Dad upside your head.

So yeah, this was a little awkward. The guy said it in a sort of non threatening way, but I still wanted to avoid a confrontation. They had both been sweet up to this point and only had two drinks apiece. I read the signs for a moment. He wasn’t drunk and so I still thought maybe he was joking with me.

“But I wanted a drink,” she said. “You can’t have one if I can’t.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I will have this drink and you will watch me drink it.”

They squabbled a bit more and I thought the best thing to do would be to defuse the situation by incorporating a few old school bartender sleights of hand, much akin to those used by Vegas magicians.

I decided to make his drink first and put it down in front of him. I had her drink loaded up in the tin. I watched the two of them for signs of trouble. He seemed happy to have his drink and then I made hers and put it in front of her.

“On the house,” I said to her. She smirked at him and they both smiled. Distraction and misdirection. I knew the couple next to them also lived up in the boonies, so I mentioned it. Psychological manipulation.

“These guys live in Arcadia too.” They turned and immediately the two couples got along and started chatting.

The oldest trick in the book. To get people to stop talking to you, get them to talk to one another.

In the end, the two left happy and satisfied. Hocus pocus. Abracadabra.

I’m lucky enough to have never had to work in a bucket of blood type of establishment and had to break up fights, or catch dudes peeing in the wrong places. There’s many levels and types of bartending, that’s why it’s such a mildly interesting, multi faceted job. I have no idea how to work in a club. I’m what you would call a “craft” cocktail bartender. I’m in bed by 11 every night, a discerning dude who measures with a jigger in a place where the music isn’t too loud and you can sit and interrogate me about the details of my life with the other “guests.” Yes, in a higher end place, the people who sit in the stools are guests, not customers. Thank you for that one, Danny Meyer.