A man sat down at my bar the other night, towards the end of the evening, and ordered a glass of white wine. (Actually, he ordered a glass of Sancerre, and even pretentiously pronounced it with a French accent….which I can’t REALLY sneer at, because I do that too, but after the rest of our interaction, even this minor thing makes me roll my eyes).
Anyway, as I was going about the beginning of closing down and cleaning my bar, this man asked where I was from (as most do after the first “y’all” slips out), and I said “Texas”, and he said the most common thing that people say when they hear that word—“How did a girl from Texas end up in New York City?”
I hate this question. First, because it implies, incorrectly, that Texans never leave Texas. There is a HUGE Texan population in NYC. I work with a staff of 12 at my restaurant, and 3 of us are from Texas. 3. A quarter of the staff of this small wine bar in Manhattan. Texan. Second, because it’s no one’s damn business why I moved here. Third, because it also seems to say “why would you move across the country to tend bar?” Which, again, is no one’s business. And also, HOW did I get here? I booked a one-way flight SEVEN YEARS AGO, and worked my ass off since then. That’s how.
Anyway, after some pestering from this guy, I finally said “I wanted to do musical theatre”, to which he replied “And what do you want to do with musical theatre? Perform? Direct? Write?”
“I wanted to perform.”
“Perform what? Rogers and Hammerstein? Book of Mormon? Wicked? Les Miz? Sondheim?”
“All of those fall under the umbrella of musical theatre.”
“Are you a better dancer or singer?”
“I’m a far better singer than dancer, but I’m a better actor than singer.”
Pause. Head tilt. Blink. “Hmmmm. Interesting.”
(Is it? I don’t think so. But whatever.)
He continues, “So do you want to be an actor or a musical theatre performer?”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Yes they are. One is an actor, the other is not.”
“No. That’s simply not true.”
“Mmmmmmm, well, I went to Yale and have an MFA, so I THINK I know what I’m talking about.”
“Welp. You’re wrong in what you think.”
I mean. The audacity of the man. This is a STRANGER and I am aware that I appear to be “just a bartender” from a backwards state full of country-folk, but I assure you, my job is not who I am, and I am not what anyone would call uneducated. I couldn’t believe that anyone would feel comfortable saying something like that to anyone, much less to someone they DIDN’T know.
Anyway, I walked away. But it’s a bar. I’m sorta stuck behind it with the people who are sitting at it. It’s my job. So I ended up back down where he was due to having to DO MY JOB, and he decided to continue talking to me. (I’m not sure why, because I had been significantly chillier towards him.)
“So are you pursuing it now?”
“No.”
“Why not? If you moved all the way here for it?”
“Because it stopped being fun and I don’t want to.”
“What stopped being fun? Do you just not like other actors?”
“Did I say that? No. I stopped because I wanted to. I didn’t way to do it anymore. It was draining and heartbreaking and exhausting and I decided to quit.”
“But, don’t you feel like you have a responsibility to your God-given talent? You shouldn’t give up.”
“It’s not ‘giving up’. Let’s keep in mind that you don’t know me, at all. I chose me and my happiness and my peace of mind over musical theatre. The only responsibility I have is to my own self and what makes my life richer and more fulfilled. Theatre stopped being that. And as far as ‘God-given talent’, I may have been born with a slight affinity for performing and acting, but I worked my ass off and spent thousands and thousands of my and my parent’s money to fine-tune, hone, and work on my craft. It’s 10% talent and 90% hard fucking work. I understand you went to Yale and think you know everything, but you don’t know me from Adam and I suggest you don’t presume to. Here’s your check. Have a nice night.”
imhavingaweirdlife 