After the Lunch Rush

Years ago, I tended bar at a restaurant that might as well have shut its doors between lunch and dinner. Afternoons crawled by in the company of one or two quiet drinkers. Recently I wrote about the experience—specifically, about something that all those dull hours taught me—for Oregon Humanities. Here's a snippet.

Come a time, I’d earn a night shift. Changing kegs, running food, pouring drinks more complicated than draft beer...with so many customers to serve, the passing of work hours would no longer depend on the elocutionary skills of clinically depressed layabouts. With tenure, someday I would stop working lunches. All I needed was patience and possibly for one of the night bartenders to die. [Read the rest ⇒]