The Day Bar Monologues
I got a few regulars who are at the door when I open up at ten, the morning drinkers. I tell you, I could write a book.
Yeah, I hear a lot of stories – it’s part of the job, you know, to listen. My name’s Clyde. I been tending bar at Harvey’s for about nine years now. I work the day shift. My customers are mostly older. I got a few regulars who are at the door when I open up at ten - the morning crew. Mostly nice guys. Lonely, maybe. Down on their luck. But also night workers stop in for a couple of beers before stumbling home to bed. All kinds of people. The day drinkers all have a story to tell, it seems. I tell you, I could write a book.
The day bar monologues:
“So I says to her, Marge, I says, just tell me what you want from me. Tell me straight out, don’t be making me guess. And, ya know, she just looked at me weird and walked out. Haven’t seen her in over a week, Clyde. Yeah, it’s crazy. What is wrong with these women? Why do they have to make things so hard?”
“I don’t know, maybe I should just quit. I been working there for three years, Clyde, and I am not getting anywhere. And my boss, Marty – he’s such a dick, I can’t stand being around the guy. One more racist joke and I swear I’m gonna bash his head in. I mean … it’s good money, but maybe I should just quit and find something else. What would you do?.”
“Did I tell you that George and I got divorced? Oh, yeah, I guess I told you that already. Yep, I am as free-wheeling as a Chevy in overdrive. It’s good being free. But you know, Clyde, living alone sure ain’t what I thought it would be. How you doing, honey? You’re looking so handsome today, you must be doing all right for yourself. You still married? Oh, yeah, that’s right, I forgot, I heard that. That’s too bad. Ah well… you’re still young, there’s someone out there for a nice guy like you.”
“Did ya hear they stole my catalytic converter again? Yeah! Took me six fucking months to get a goddamned replacement, then the bastards came along and stole the replacement. I hope they all burn in hell, the sons a bitches. They’re not cheap either — $1,300 bucks! I am thinking I’ll sell the Tacoma and just go electric. What do you think about electric, Clyde? Do you think it is a good idea?”
“You remember my girlfriend Rita? Yeah, the redhead. Yeah, we’re still together. I think she is off her rocker, though, Clyde, to tell you the truth. She brought home another damned cat. She’s got six now. She makes little sweaters for all of them. She knows I hate cats. Ya think she’s trying to tell me something?”
“So … what about our Giants, Clyde? They’re pretty much sucking it up this season. Yeah, well, it’s our bullpen. It’s just no damned good. Crawford’s the only guy we got that we can count on, and he is fucking 36 years old. Shit, what time is it? I better get home. My wife’ll be filing a goddamned missing person report … No, hell with it, one more Heineken, then I’m outta here.”
“Yes sir, I’m new in California. Just moved here from Oklahoma. Thought I’d just start all over. Ya’ll ever been to Oklahoma? No, I didn’t think so. I found me a little apartment over on Reseda Street. Nothin’ fancy, but it’s nice enough. I’m fixin’ to go out and find more work today — I’m a hairdresser. I got a job over at Lucky Cuts a couple of days a week so far. It’s a start. Man! This city! It ain’t Tulsa. It’s a whole different world out here on the coast! I’m glad to be here, but it’s gonna take some getting used to. By the way, my name’s Juanita. Nice to meet ya’ll.”
“Yah — it’s true! I put $100 down on a horse named Boy Howdy and I won! I could not believe it! My first time at the track. Best experience of my life. I think I may have the knack, Clyde. I’m going back next Saturday, that’s for sure.”
“You got kids Clyde? I got three girls and a boy myself. Jason’s fifteen and I worry about him all the time now. I mean I know teenagers are hard. I know he needs his space and I should trust him, but he’s gone all quiet lately and seems like he is mad all the time and he won’t talk about it. I don’t know what is going on with the boy, but you know, mom’s worry. You just want them to choose the right thing. I wish I knew what to do.”
So, it’s five o’clock. I’ll just finish drying these glasses, wipe down the bar and call it a day. The younger crowd’s come in now for happy hour, a noisy bunch. Some of them have moved on to the new Techno Bar up the street, but a lot of them still like an old-time beer joint like Harvey’s.
I used to drink a lot when I was young. I was quite a rounder, actually, but then my daughter was born. I took one look at that little girl and I knew I had to quit drinking. Smartest thing I ever did. I’m a pretty darned good dad.
So, I guess I’ll just pick up a pizza and head on home now. My dogs’ll be waiting for me, chihuahuas, Bean and Buster. It’s just me and the dogs now that the kids are in college. But, you know, life is … life is still good. I can’t complain. I got a house, my car is paid for, I have a steady job. I go bowling on Monday nights with a couple of guys. My kids come to see me a twice a month when they can get away.
It may not be a thrilling life, but it is a hell of a lot easier than the lives I hear about all day long. I muddle through just like every one else, trying to offend as few people as possible. Maybe do somebody some good. Find a little fun if I can. Makes me laugh, though, the way my customers are always asking me for advice. As if I knew anything…
*Thanks to for the photo that inspired this story. Why not run over to DISPATCHES and have a look around. He is a hell of an artist, photographer and story teller.
What a rich mine of possibilities! I love how you’ve have each character play both sides of the conversation. It works so well.
Fun side story that’s (mostly) true — the old bartender at Seamus McCaffrey’s in Phoenix used to tell us how every year he’d go back to the little village he was from in Ireland. When I knew him he was older than dirt, so it must have been a lot of years going back. Every time he’d go he’d try to do a pub crawl. His old friends and family would buy him a drink everywhere he stopped. Year after year he wouldn’t make it to the last few pubs, he’d just be too pissed from all the free booze. I saw him after he’d gone back and he was ecstatic that he’d made it through the whole village, stopping at each pub. I remarked that it was quite an achievement at, “how old are you again?”. “83” he said, “I outlived everyone I knew, so there was no one left to buy me a drink. Did the whole crawl sober as a judge!”
Sharron, really enjoyed that. I've always thought that a good bartender is a jack of all trades. Psychiatrist, Life Coach, Advisor, Therapist or Counselor. I've only known a few that were really exceptional down through the years, because you have to truly like people for them to be exceptional, not just like them for the tips. The good ones, the very good ones, were not pretenders. They were the real thing. They didn't pretend to listen. They didn't pretend to care. Thanks for sharing this. - Jim