Imagine encountering someone you’ve never met before, yet you’ve seen them hundreds, maybe even thousands of times.

You know where they’re from, their age, their relationship history, how much money they make, even their height, yet you have never spoken. You are a complete stranger to them.

Today is different though. On this day, you’re playing a more familiar role: that of the ultimate friendly face. Amidst an endless sea of intruders, sycophants, patrons and paparazzi, nobodies and yes men, you are the only one who wants nothing from them because you are there to serve.

You are their bartender.

The first time I served a big celebrity, I was briefly hunched over the sink behind the bar at a trendy SoHo restaurant where I was the Bar Manager. Suddenly I felt eyes on me. I looked up to see the biggest supermodel in the world at that time peering at me from between the beer taps. She disarmed me with a smile that had graced countless magazine covers and said hello in a familiar tone. For an instant I almost forgot where I was. Had I met her somewhere recently? Obviously, I knew her, but she also seemed to know me. How?

     Her British accent was quite apparent as she spoke again, “I have a bit of a sore throat and was wondering if you had something for it. Maybe a-what’s it called…a Hot Toddy?” Suddenly jolted back to reality and context I realized I was in fact working the bar and I was her bartender; therefore, it was my duty to make a drink for her.

 “Sure”, I said. “Would you like whiskey, brandy, or rum?”

“Whatever you think is best” she replied. Her being English I settled on a nice scotch diluted with warm water fortified with a bit of honey and lemon. I stirred it up and handed it over. She took a sip and as she complimented me on it that odd disoriented feeling returned. This was not because I was star struck. Being from New York and bartending in many kind of sceney, exclusive downtown places I had served, met or partied with numerous celebs since I was a kid. But there was something that felt different in the dynamic on this day. Here was a very well-known celebrity that is often forced to shun and avoid public attention. She’s a supermodel that has had to contend with being recognized wherever she goes. She is sought after, in demeand, and she must tolerate being approached by strangers as though they know her because they know her image so very well. Yet on this day, at this moment, she has come to me seeking something, and she recognizes me, or at least the role I play behind the bar even though we have never met before. In this case it is my image as the bartender is one that is familiar and for one bewildering instant, the typical social dynamic is inverted and it’s as though we both inhabit the same stratosphere. We are breathing the same oxygen and today Kate Moss is my friend.

Ok, not really, but it feels that way.

Being a bartender means that, at least when you are working, you become a public figure. Like the song on the TV show said, “Where everybody knows your name…” and your name is “bartender”.

Unless you decide to share your real name, which can sometimes be the worst hospitality decision you can make.

For better or for worse, when you’re their bartender people really feel like they know you. And for the duration of their stay at the bar, you’re their buddy, their confidante, their matchmaker, and their life concierge. Participating in this charade of a friendship with your guests can be annoying at times, as can, I imagine, being a celebrity. Guests, especially regulars, can start to feel like fans.

They want to trade in gossip, namedrop, and know what you’re up to when you’re not at work. They sometimes push the envelope by making judgmental comments on your appearance or demeanor. They expect entertainment from you in the form of hospitality, and they keep coming back for more. At the end of the day though, this is what you want, and what you need.

Fans.

Regulars.

A loyal group of people to sustain you when it’s slow or when you’re bored. To get you through the lean times. You may start to feel a hint of contempt at the familiarity and routine of it all but ultimately the show can’t go on without them.

Kate Moss sipped her Hot Toddy and resumed her conversation with her agent or whoever she was there with and when she was done, she paid, said thank you and left. And in her wake, I plummeted back to earth, and returned to the dull and quotidian rituals of polishing glassware and cutting fruit.

But for a brief glossy moment I was on the one on the cover of that magazine and I was the star.

I breached that paper wall, ascended to the top, and was recognized and was recognized. With a tip.

Cocktail Epilogue:

Hot Toddy

½ oz brandy, whiskey, rum or combination of two

1-teaspoon clover honey

½ fresh lemon juice

Combine in a mug and fill with hot water or tea.