A Night at the Wine Bar

On a recent Girls Night Out, we found ourselves at a wine bar, which I think is code for a bar with comfortable seating frequented by the 35-50 demographic. As soon as we walked in and claimed our real estate, a boisterous gentleman let’s call Bob greeted us. Bob was attentive and seemed intent on making sure the six of us had a good time. At first we assumed Bob was the proprietor, or maybe an especially fulfilled employee.

However, when Bob failed to take our drink order, suggested we call him Big Bob, and embarked on a long reminiscence of his high school basketball career, it became evident we were on our own in the drink department. Amid Bob’s gregarious tale telling we collected drink orders and sent a scout to the bar. When she tried to hand the bartender a credit card, Bob intervened. The Big Man wanted to cover our round. Back in the circle of revelry much fuss was made over Bob’s generous contribution and soon we were sipping and chatting about other things.

At the same time, two more women showed up and joined our group. On one of his showy trips to the bar to fetch our drinks, Bob’s seat was taken. Instead of gallantly standing by, continuing to enjoy our company (including those of us who were also standing or less-than-comfortably perched on hard furniture), Bob asked one of us to get up so he could have her seat. Also, he wanted her to sit on his lap.

Um… no.

You don’t have to be young and sexy to get our attention. We appreciate conversation and appreciation. Even boring stories and the ill-advised hand on the leg we can accept, so long as you are entertaining us. But don’t push it.

“I just bought you drinks and you won’t even sit on my lap? That’s not very professional.”

Dear, sweet, pathetic Bob. Perhaps if you’re looking for a professional, you hit the wrong bar

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