Many customers devour me with their eyes. I can’t tell whether it’s because they enjoy watching me tend bar or because they’re imagining me naked. Maybe both.
As a bartender, I instinctively assume that when someone sits directly in front of me and stares at me, they want to order something.
Often, however, when I ask them what they want, they immediately snap out of their trance as though they’ve been caught in some lewd voyeuristic act.
Finally, one asks me, what’s the closest beer you have to Blue Moon?
Blue Moon, I say.
I’ll have that.
I go to grab the beer. Still, I can’t escape the others’ constant hungry gaze.