A funny thing happened this week. Something that forced me to somehow separate my identity based on my occupation, which feels unnecessary. I’m a writer/bartender, bartender/writer, however you want to put it. And I take great pride in both.
Working behind the bar at Le Fanfare in North Brooklyn for nearly 2 years, I’ve become the face of that place. I know most of the people who walk through the door. I have regulars. I love standing behind that marble half-moon of a bar and making people happy.
And when the PR girls that have been hired to represent our establishment on social media come in to take photos, I often try to convey that love and the very soul of the place to them, which always falls upon deaf ears. Because what do I know, of course. I’m a bartender and bartenders have nothing to do with the image that they are trying to convey.
This week I was invited via Instagram for a free dinner at Le Fanfare by said PR girls. “We’d love to have you come in and take some photos for us!” they said. To writer me, not bartender me, of course.
And so I did. I went and I dined. And as I photographed and enjoyed all of my favorite dishes (and also plenty of wine) I felt thankful, at least, that I could sit there on a barstool, but not feel too far from the other side.
I hope that these words find you there, too. Not too concerned with the image of what life should look like, but understanding and feeling what it is. And if you have something to say about it, I hope it never falls upon deaf ears. And if it does, just remember you can always keep me posted.
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