In summary, she had this uncanny
knack for having random people or bartenders pick up her drinks…and even entire
meals when she would dine out alone on Fridays. She was so successful in her quest to get free drinks and meals on the last work day of the week, that we came to referring to the phenomenon as “free Fridays.” Much of the old post expressed
my frustration over the fact that I’d NEVER had such luck
(despite the reality that I habitually and anonymously pick up other tabs), and
that at the time of the writing (I was 51), I’d never once had anyone randomly
buy me either a drink or a meal. Never.
To be clear, I’ve certainly
had a friend or colleague buy me lunch…but I’d never once had that
silver-screen experience of a waiter whispering that the check was picked up by
a grateful restaurant owner, or an appreciative business associate at an
adjacent table or the mysterious blonde at the end of the bar. Not a single
freakin’ time in 51 years.
As the original post reveals, it bothered me so much that I even talked about my drought with my “free Friday” friend. We explored possible reasons for her success at obtaining gratis drinks and meals, and even examined possible explanations for my lifetime of being denied that same pleasure. At one point, she even confidently offered up the likely explanation that my misfortune was due the strong possibility that I was simply “just an As#hole.”
Well…I’m not always the
greatest listener, but for some reason I took an interest in her hypothesis and
started to experiment a bit on my longstanding shutout. As alluded to in the
2012 piece…I actually enjoy my alone time…so much so that I routinely lie about
my lunch plans (especially on Fridays) just so I can slip away and take a
solitary spot at a local watering hole. As an only child, I just enjoy the
solitude…and there’s something about sitting alone
with a Cabernet I.V. and having the opportunity to th(dr)ink that I’ve always found therapeutic.
About a week after the old
blog I ventured out for lunch on a Friday decided to go to a new place. I took
my preferred spot at the end of the unfamiliar bar (so nobody could sit on at
least one side of me) and rather than coldly placing my order and minding my
own business as usual, I decided to try to up my personality game and returned
the barmaid’s upbeat banter with my own pleasant responses. The girl
tending bar that Friday appeared to be less than half my age…and though I
typically don’t notice these things, she was clearly way better looking than me
(I know…low bar) and certainly more attractive than the average bartender (or
for that matter average anything).
Given her appearance and the fact
that she was serving drinks, I unfairly presumed she didn’t have a whole lot
going on upstairs (Lord knows what she likely initially thought of me…but I’m
guessing she presumed I was some sort of cross between a leading man, thoracic
heart surgeon and Olympic athlete/astronaut/medal of honor recipient). At some point early on
in the conversation, she made the observation that I “must be an only child.”
“How’d you come to that
conclusion?” I asked somewhat puzzled that she’d luckily
nailed it in a very short amount of time.
“Well…you’re in here alone and you seem pretty confident and able to enjoy
your own company” she matter-of-factly
responded.
OK…so I misread the airhead
assessment (and forgot about the fact that she works for tips)…this gal is
obviously very astute and a good judge of people. She went on to tell me that
she was studying to get her Masters…and it was
pretty clear pretty quickly that she was markedly smarter than me (I know...another low bar). We
went on to have an animated conversation about how patrons treat people in the
service industry (like her), and it was obvious she’d made the most of her time
behind the bar and was wise way beyond her years.
Then…without any warning or
fanfare…it happened. Without asking, she turned around, picked up the bottle of
BV Cabernet and refilled my wine glass while noting “this one is on me.”
Boom…the 51-year drought was
over in an instant. It was like Christmas, the Fourth of July and my birthday
all rolled into one. Unfortunately the euphoria didn’t last long before I
started to dwell on my free Friday friend’s hypothesis regarding my five
decades of being skunked. It suddenly dawned on me that her “A-hole” theory was
dead on. Until this day I’d never had anyone randomly buy me anything…but as I
thought about it more I realized I’d probably been coming off like a closed off as#hole.
Amazingly, I now
get free drinks fairly frequently (just as a side note...it doesn’t hurt to be decent tipper) but some time ago I hit the big time. Roughly six months ago I was dinning with a friend at a local upscale restaurant
I frequent when the waiter came over and said… “this one is on John” (the
maître d). Last Tuesday…while eating at the same high-class joint with a work
colleague and dear friend, the waiter surprised me by letting us know our
entire lunch had been picked up by some diners inside. The best part was I
don’t have much of a business relationship with the pair that made the generous
gesture…they just did it consistent with the great culture of their successful company…because it was a nice thing to
do. No agenda…just being cool.
What’s the point of all this?
Normally I don’t know either…but this one seems pretty clear. Don’t be like
me…or more succinctly…don’t be an A-hole…especially if you want some free
drinks and a complimentary lunch every 51 years. The bigger lesson though seems
to be one we often learn in kindergarten, but that I somehow so frequently seem
to forget. Don’t judge a book by its cover. I still do it every day…and as
someone that routinely laments the fact that my professional opinion is
consistently ignored because I’m thought of as “just a construction worker,” I’m particularly
sensitive to it when it’s repeatedly done to me. Hey...I wonder if that's happening because I'm acting like an as#hole?
My first free drink
experience also reminded me once again why most people should spend some time
working in the service industry, whether it’s waiting tables, delivery
newspapers, mixing Manhattans, working retail or even cutting in ground fault
interrupter receptacles above granite kitchen counter tops. There’s something
about such real life duty that trumps (or at least compliments) anything you
can learn at Harvard Business School...and if you make the most of it, such early
life lessons will serve you very well later in the game.
Have a great weekend and if
you can, do something you enjoy with the people that matter the most to you.
You can get caught up too much with work…but when they tally up the score at
the end of regulation…it’s the people and friendships and how you treated and
nurtured them that will dwarf anything you have going on at the office.
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