no game at the ball game

so, i am happy to say that i have started work again with the beginning of the new baseball season. thank god. i'd almost forgotten what it's like to have an income. and not to mention how much i've missed baseball. (I love you colby rasmus!!!!)

.....

anyway. the other thing i love about my job is getting to meet people who love baseball as much as i do. and by people, i mean men. and by men, a mean cute men.

i was bartending in bank of america club at the stadium, which isn't my favorite place to be. the bar is pretty busy all night long, and i would rather keep it chill, talk to customers and (of course) watch the game. but this night ended up being pretty fun... for the most part.

it was the beginning of the night and i was still carding people who looked younger than 30. this is always tricky. some people are very sensitive about this. you always get the person who asks, "don't you want to see my ID??" ok. one. if i had wanted to see it, i would have asked you. two. no. if i don't card you, it doesn't always mean that you look older than 30. it means you're clearly older than 21 and there are 20 people in line behind you. and three. shut up.

but there are people who try to beat this system. these are the people that are clearly (by far) older than 21, who come up with their ID already in hand, nonchalantly outstretched across the bar. this pisses me off. i do not card these people. i laugh inside as they realize that i am not going to take their ID from their outstretched hand to analyze, and as they fumble with it to put it back in their wallet before i am done pouring their beer.

example of that this person looks like:

people. you know how old are. and you know how old you look. don't make an ass of yourself.

as i'm carding some 20 year olds, a cute guy steps up. i check his ID. 88. my age. drinking? Budweiser. a man, ladies and gentleman. this isn't his first rodeo. hmm.....

[side note: another man will come up later, drop his cup on the bar and chase it with his hands in a dancing matter. i laugh. "getting a little excited there, huh?" i ask. "only excited to see you," he says back. really, dude. you're gonna pull that card? "haha, ok," i say in a non-believing way. "no, i'm serious!" he says. "dude, the beer's free, you don't have to butter me up." ]

cute guy is sitting at a table directly across from the bar. he comes up for another beer. the bar is busy and another co-worker - a very blunt co-worker - is standing there helping me. i point to him and say/ask, "Budweiser?" he smiles, handing me his cup, "yeah! how did you remember?" (for the record, i try to remember everyone's beer preference. in small groups, i try to remember everyone's name, too. it just happens to be easier to remember attractive guy's orders. sue me.) i - already getting nervous, fumble with my words, "uh, i don't know, i just remembered." um, ew. who am i? usually when this happens i will say how i try to remember everyone's or, i don't know, something where i don't sound like a dickhead. my co-worker pipes up.

"she remembers what hot guys are drinking." oh. my god.

"what?" he says. which i call bullshit, because the whole bar could hear it. so she says it again, and this time the whole room could probably hear it, "she remembers what hot guys are drinking!" oh my god. i look to the ground, my face red. and he laughs, says thank you, and walks away.

i hit my co-worker. who also laughs and walks away. ...i hate you.

the next time he comes up, i wait to see if he will come to me or the other bartender. and at first i don't know which i prefer - if he goes to peggy, that means he feels awkward and is avoiding conversation with me (i don't blame him). if he comes to me, he either wants a good laugh or is possibly intrigued by me as well. ...or both. since i have no idea what i would say to him now, i hope he goes to peggy.

he comes to me. f.

as i pour him his Budweiser, (which is probably the slowest pour of my life--i think the earth did a full rotation before the cup was even half full.) we awkwardly shift in silence. i avoid eye contact at all costs. as i am handing him his beer, he says, "gotta love co-workers, haha." "hah, yeah..." i say back. ...i hate her.

the next time he comes up, i am determined to redeem myself. so i go to my go to, "how's the weather outstide?" question. it was pretty breezy that day so when he says cold, that he forgot a jacket, and so on--i'm not surprised. but i did not think about how i would respond to this. nervously, i say the first thing that comes to my mind. "haha, well, pain is weakness leaving the body, right??" oh.....my.....god. what? who said that? because i know it wasn't me. please tell me it wasn't me. this is probably my most hated quote. i hate it. i hate people that say it. i hate people that wear it on t-shirts. hate it. and it doesn't even make sense with anything he just said, i mean wtf? i usually have pretty good game. in fact, another guy tries to get me to go out with him after the game that very same night. how can i be so lame and awkward with this kid?

it's past the point of redemption. he awkwardly laughs and walks away. i'm surprised he doesn't run, which is what i do every time he comes up to the bar after that.