And So It Begins.

When I pull into the parking lot of my beloved bar, I always feel a little anxiety. My heart starts to race, I become short of breath, and sometimes break a sweat. It is not because I am uncomfortable, but because I haven't a clue of whats to come in the next ten hours. The windows to the car are usually down while I am blaring my favorite The Black Keys song, "Psychotic Girl". I shake off the anxiety by singing and taking long deep breaths. Finally, I get out of the car and head to the front door while shaking my head and getting into the "mode". 

I have noticed that those who tend bar usually have multiple personalities or personas. I know for a fact that I do. There's the everyday Brittany who typically is calm, cool, and collected. She is the single mother of one and has her priorities in line. Boring, she is not. She can be witty, wild, and weird when she deems it appropriate. The other side of Brittany, the bartender, is a bit unusual. She is witty, sarcastic, abrasive, dark, and mysterious. I usually refer to that side of me as "Tabitha". Tabitha is the name one of my favorite bar regulars, Bob, gave to me to refer to that dark side. Tabitha is the mode I have to be in while walking through the heavily tinted front door.

As I cross the threshold, I feel the neurons in my brain rewire and my walking pace gets a bit faster. I slam my backpack on the chair behind the bar, and greet every person waiting on my arrival. Its funny to watch people's facial expressions because I typically say something inappropriate to every single one of them. For example, "Hey Tommy, its good to see you. Have you gotten your dick wet yet?". It throws them off because they see me as a southern belle. My hair is usually done, makeup on, and I look like an innocent young lady. Little do they know that Tabitha is indeed the most disgusting, perverted, chick on this side of the Mississippi.

 I consider myself as a "veteran" bartender in this area because I have been tending bar for about seven years. I started my bartending career at the age of seventeen at one of the biggest night clubs in Shreveport. The owner was a bit shady and allowed young girls to work for him. Anyways, I tended bar at night clubs for a good bit. I barely had any customer interaction except for "What can I get ya?" and "Get the fuck out of my club". All I did, really, was sling drinks for twelve hours and was drunk the entire time. Oh! I made a lot of money. I definitely can't forget the money part. I was then programmed to be a fast-paced bartender who slung drinks faster than you could order them.

Going from night clubs to a smaller sports bar is quite a transition. I chose to downsize because the club scene was getting old and I was ready to have a change of pace.The bar I work at is a little unusual for me. I had a difficult time for the first six months of working there because I have never been a very personal person. I prefer to keep my distance, and just keep glasses on the bar full. Little did I know that these people would grow on me. Most of the bar regulars hated me in the beginning. I was quiet, short, and avoided conversation at all costs. I always believed that the bar was between the bartender and customer for a reason. The two could never intermingle and it keeps a safe distance from one another. The bar should never be breached. I wanted the customers to not know a single thing about me. Almost two years later, I have befriended a few of them and continue to develop a relationship with several regular guests. And so the drama begins.