With construction being slow my boss widened our travel area. Normally this just meant a long drive home at the end of the day, which made Friday's a nightmare.
This time the job called for us to stay locally as its hours away. Our first day is spent making the drive, checking in and setting up for the following day.
The job we're working on is a small bar, nothing out of the ordinary just a building that's seen better days. The salt from the nearby pacific has taken its toll on the old girl.
We start the next day off early, hurrying to set the scaffolding before the bar opens for business. I meant the bar owner slash bar tender that morning, I normal guy by all accounts.
Being the foremen I spent most of my time asking for others to take care when entering and directing the guys from the ground. My mind on my job everything seemed normal at the time, something that soon would become much clearer.
The owner would come out here and there and always with a kind word, looks great or thanks for everything. I chalked it up to a nice guy and or curious at what we're doing. On one of his trips out he seen we were cleaning up for the day, he invite me to stop by later for a drink on the house and to extend the offer to the boys also.
Later at the motel I weighed the idea of telling the crew about the offer extended but as I didn't want to deal with a bunch of hungover crybabies the next day I kept mum. Later that night when I couldn't find sleep in an unfamiliar bed I decided to take him up on the offer myself. I'm not much of a drinker but maybe a beer or a single drink is just what I need to unwind and find slumber.
The bar was dark and a little musty and I found a seat in a corner booth, within a minute a tall barmaid came over to take my order. I told her I'm sorry, I'm working on the outside and the owner asked me to stop by for a drink.
She turned and yelled across the packed floor catching the owners attention.
He yells back, yes whatever he wants and just give him a moment.
I told her how about a beer? where she answered back "baby pick something a little stronger".
Okay then make it a Black Russian. "Now you're talking, she answers back."
A minute later it's not the barmaid but the owner who approaches with my drink in hand. He sets it on the table and take a seat. We strike up a conversation which seems one sided but he's a good listener so I continue to opine.
Finally with just about my whole life spilt, wife kids etc. etc.. I ask him more about himself, starting with the bar. As I do I finally take my first real look around, what's the odds every customer would be guys? All guys, San Francisco, guess who found a clue?
