Living in your own world

“You don’t make your margaritas too sweet, do you?” asked a woman in a bodycon, skintight tank top, who was also wearing a long winter scarf and gloves.

I didn’t know if she wanted to hide her neck and hands, or if she didn’t want to hide anything else. But her question really wasn’t a question, it was an insight into the world in which she lived. Because what does “too sweet” mean? Was she asking if we deliberately made our drinks unbalanced? And too sweet for whom? For her? Or for the world at large?

We often think of things in relation to ourselves. In quantum mechanics, there’s a postulate that says that even observing a phenomenon changes that phenomenon — not only because of the perception of the watcher, but also from the perspective of the phenomena. Or, as Nietzsche put it, “If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” And we as human beings often forget that.

In the bar business, every drink is one ingredient away from another drink.

“Educate your customers,” once said a manager of mine, in regard to us not serving white zinfandel — as if customers go to restaurants to be educated. And nothing comes off more condescending than a server or bartender telling you that you don’t know what you are talking about, even if, in fact, you don’t know what you are talking about. Perhaps especially when you don’t know what you are talking about, which can also apply equally to bartenders and/ or restaurant managers, too.

“I can make it less sweet,” I said.

“I just don’t want the house margarita,” she said.

Back in the day of that previous manager, house drinks meant well drinks, which meant cheap drinks. The cheapest drink available, in fact. There were four pricing tiers: well, call, premium and super premium. Back then, bartenders did the math in their heads, and it was easier to do that if the prices were simplified. Computers have fixed all that. These days, the only people who ask for “well drinks” are people over 40. Your average 30-yearold has no frame of reference. It’s like saying payphone to them; they might have heard of it, but they almost certainly never experienced it. Today’s “house” drinks are often specialties of the house, designed to impart the sophistication and knowledge of wherever that “house” may be. If you put “house” on something it probably should be pretty good. Not true back then, but certainly true these days.