”
I’m a doctor, a psychiatrist, a baby sitter, a cab driver or all
of the above,
”
Art Ramos says, punctuating his list with a set of raised
eyebrows that crack a smile from an older woman at the end of the
bar.
”
As long as you’re buying drinks, I’m whatever you need me to
be.
”
“I’m a doctor, a psychiatrist, a baby sitter, a cab driver or all of the above,” Art Ramos says, punctuating his list with a set of raised eyebrows that crack a smile from an older woman at the end of the bar. “As long as you’re buying drinks, I’m whatever you need me to be.”
A handyman by trade, Ramos has been filling in as a bartender at M & H Tavern for six years. The Morgan Hill hangout is home to a cast of regulars, many of whom have unofficially taken ownership of their barstools.
“It’s a daytime bar for the senior citizens,” he says. “After work it’s more of a middle aged crowd, just winding down, listening to music, dancing. The weekend crowd is there because they love to watch sports.”
With all of the personalities that come into a bar, one thing remains constant: People unload here. Bartenders, like hairstylists, function as society’s friendly ear, therapists who can be bought for the price of a Jack on the rocks. Their philosophy is simple and their advice (if given) relatively brief, but perhaps we could all learn a little something from their style. It’s a well-practiced balance between openness and discretion that all comes down to that seemingly elusive thing called common sense.
“People generally like to drink most when they’re having problems,” says Sue Garcia, a bartender at the Oakwood Lounge in Gilroy. “When there are a lot of people they’re more quiet, but when they’re the only one in the bar they don’t care. They just tell you things. This is the place to come for comfort, and through the years you learn never to give advice. You listen.”
Garcia, originally a bookkeeper by trade, has been at the Oakwood for the last seven years.
“You learn that you have to treat people differently by what they can handle,” she says. “You can’t yell at someone you know can’t take it. You have to be nice even if you don’t really like them. In here I have two groups of regulars that sit on either end of the bar – the eastside and the westside. I have to change personalities as I go between them.
“Some want to tell jokes. Some want to pick on you. I play along.”
If going the extra mile for the customer isn’t your style, says Charisse Tyson of Johnny’s Bar and Grill in Hollister, you shouldn’t be in the business. Customers want to talk about their spouses, their jobs, their friends and their daily lives. They won’t frequent a bar where they’re not comfortable speaking up.
“Bars are supposed to be social clubs,” says Tom Horsfall, Tyson’s husband and co-owner of Johnny’s. “It’s kind of like Dr. Phil on alcohol. They go for the companionship of other people.”
Says Ramos of the M & H Tavern, lyrically: “If they’re down and out, trying to get some sympathy, I’ll tell them that things will get better or life is too short. But if they’re fairly normal and just sorta needing to talk to someone, you introduce them to a customer who can get them into a conversation.
“That’s what most people want.”
For regulars, says Garcia, being a friend can help to stop trouble before it starts.
“There was this one guy in here who was getting loud,” she says. “He kept asking for $20’s from the ATM, so I finally said, ‘I’m not gonna give you any more $20s because you’re gonna spend your whole paycheck. Here’s a soda.’
“Sure, he was mad and yelled at me and all, but about an hour later he came back and said, ‘I just wanna thank you.'”
Tyson, too, has had her run-in’s with inebriated clients. She’s been wrestled to the floor, had to sit on clients to take their car keys away from them, and even called wives to come and take them away.
“You may think you’re fine, but if I question it for even two seconds, you’re not leaving here with your car keys,” she says. “Any more (to drink), it’s just too scary. If they were to go out and get in an accident … I would never get past that if it was my bar.”
For all of the negative connotations that can go along with being in their kind of business, Tyson and Horsfall are proud of their staff and their customers. When one of the employees lost her husband unexpectedly, customers organized a barbecue to raise funds for a funeral.
“If you have something to share we help you get through it,” says Tyson. “If we’re not here, the regulars will fill in for the proprietor and welcome people, so ‘Cheers’ is probably the best example of what it’s like. We’re a family.”
