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Feature - A Whistler confessional

The bartender’s role in the psychological well-being of a ski town

A bartender is a lot like a doctor, in the way that people view him. He may know intimate details of your life and yet remain a relative stranger. Or if you are of a more spiritual bent then you might liken him more to a priest. After all there is a certain amount of ritual involved in drinking at a bar, and a bartender oversees these rituals.

The bartender listens to your confessions and in some cases even gives absolution, or maybe that’s just the way it seems under the hazy shade of alcohol.

Of course we may confess our sins to a bartender, but who hasn't committed many more while drinking in the very establishment we confess in? The point is that like a priest or a doctor, we often take the person behind the bar for granted. We assume that he or she is simply doing their duty.

Now in reality bartenders may not be as stoic as all that, but when we drink in a bar it's usually very much about us, not them.

So one fine night I took it upon myself to find out what makes these men and women tick.

In looking for a likely place to begin my quest, I decide on the Amsterdam Café in Village Square. It was still early but the place was packed, being a popular apres-ski hang out. I managed to jostle my way to a stool by the bar and was pleasantly surprised to find that this particular bartender was female, quite an attractive female actually, by the name of Heather.

Heather was born in Pembroke Ontario, but grew up mostly in Germany as an army brat. At 22 she has been living in Whistler for seven years now and has been working at the Amsterdam for the last three, with time off to pursue modelling assignments in Chile. She is also a go-go dancer at Tommy Africa's, but prefers tending bar.

"Bartending is sort of like its own dance routine when it gets busy. I love doing it and I love meeting people," Heather says.

But what about those customers who feel they just need to do their own dance routine for real?

"If someone wants to dance on the bar, you sort of have to just let them go for it."

She seemed to be warming to my questions so I ventured onto more personal ground.

"You're quite an attractive woman so I have to ask…"

"I'm single."

"OK, nice to know. But actually I was curious, what do you do when male customers, or female for that matter, hit on you?"

"I just overwhelm them with happiness and joy, you kind of play with it and have fun."

She then confides in me that in fact strange men confess that they find her a little intimidating, while her male friends consider her one of the guys.

Well then what about the reverse, has she ever considered hitting on a customer?

"I don't pick up men at the bar," she says flatly, but adds: "I love talking with people and giving advice when they ask for it."

I was about to ask what sort of people come to for her advice when Heather pointed at a tall, scruffy looking guy sauntering up to the bar.

"I gave him lots of advice, most of it good," she says.

The scruffy looking guy turns out to be a one Forest Goggin from Boston. He gave up a $25,000 a month job as an investment banker to come to Whistler and be a ski bum. Naturally I'm curious what sort of advice Heather gave him, but Forest is a little vague on the subject.

"She cheers me up, she's like my psychiatrist that I don't have to pay. You know I used to make $25,000 a month…"

Yes I got that part, but back to Heather.

"Okay so people come to see you, and not always just for drinks. What's the strangest story you've been asked to advise on?"

She pours a few drinks and mulls the question over before answering.

"I don't know if this is what you mean, but last year this middle aged couple came in, they were from the southern United States, I think. Anyway they were sitting basically where you are now and they both kept staring at my chest. I was wearing a T-shirt and no bra. Finally they asked if my nipples were pierced and if they could see? So I shrugged and lifted my shirt, they thanked me and that was that.

"Then a few months later I get this letter which contained a Polaroid of a male and female chest, both with pierced nipples and note that read, Thanks Heather."

On a simpler note I ask, since she is obviously quite popular with her customers, what is the best tip she ever received?

"Five-hundred US on a $400 bill. That was a very happy night for me."

I thank Heather for her insights and decide that it is time to move on. The night is young and I head downstairs to the cavernous refuge of Buffalo Bill’s, where at this early hour there is no rush at the bar.

I am able to have a fairly relaxed conversation with Tyler, 25, originally from Kelowna and who has been tending bar at Bill’s for all of three weeks now – although he has been bartending at one place or another, or one country or another, for seven years now.

When I ask what he likes best about bartending he replies: "Basically I'm in it for the chicks."

"So I assume you're single?"

"Yes but I'm always on the look out for the right woman. They just don't seem to drink in my bar."

He then adds apropos of nothing: "The type of woman I would like to have tie me down would be the Barbarella type, you know fur bra and panties, a lot of shag carpeting in the living room, not afraid to try new things."

One of the waitresses, Tracy Chow, comes to the bar to pick up a drink order and I take the chance to get her take on Tyler and why he makes a good bartender.

"Well he's funny and nice to look at."

"So he gets hit on a lot?"

She rolls her eyes and replies, "Constantly."

Since he has been in the profession for seven years now, I wonder if he considers it a career?

"You know Bruce Willis started out as a bartender," he muses.

"So you want to be an actor?"

"No mostly I would just like to sleep with Demi Moore."

"Let me ask you this then, where do you see yourself seven years from now?"

"Let’s see, well Demi Moore's single now, I don't know maybe I could be in a movie about a kid who sees dead people."

I have to know what is the craziest thing he has seen at Bill’s.

"About three times a week there's a lot of whip cream shown around here, for some reason both the staff and the clientele have a real whip cream fetish."

Tyler doesn't strike me as the type of person that anyone (anyone sane at least) would confide their troubles in, still it's my job to ask.

"People who come to Whistler or live here are pretty positive, so you don't get a lot of that. But when I worked in other towns you would get the guy crying in his beer, telling you about how his wife beats him up. It could be depressing, most of the time you just wish they would shut-up."

And finally, what's the best tip you ever got?

"Go to Whistler, son."

So back out in the cold dark night I find the aprés-ski crowd in the village thinning out and decide to check out Citta’, where I find the way to the bar is clear. And behind it I find Dave Keen, bartender and manager of Citta’. At 38 he has been in the business for 22 years, 11 of them with Citta’. I figure that at 22 years it’s fair to call this a career for him?

"I guess, mostly I was just too stupid to get a real job." But he adds: "If you're going to have a job, you might as well have one that's fun."

"In all of those years you must have seen crazy things. What would rank up there as being the craziest?"

"Everything I forget," he says demurely.

I insist that surely there are a few things that stick in his mind?

"I guess it’s a toss up between Johnny Thrash in a dress (apparently not that unusual) or this girl who dumped a bucket of ice water on some guy's head."

"Was she a waitress for you at the time?"

"Not at the time, but later."

"How much later?"

"About three hours."

I suggest Whistler is one of the few places on the planet where dumping ice water over someone’s head can be considered a good job recommendation.

"What can I say?" Dave shrugs. "I liked her attitude."

At Dave's suggestion I head up to Uli's Flipside Café to find the very friendly and forthcoming Wayne Escott, a.k.a. Knight Train, also 38 and originally from North Vancouver. He has been bartending for 13 years, most of them in Whistler, and has worked at just about every night club in town. He mentions that he is also a helicopter pilot, which seems to me an odd combination.

Nevertheless he certainly seems happy being a bartender and not at all shy about sharing his on the job experiences. When I get around to my inevitable, what's the craziest thing question, I am treated to a deluge of unprintable anecdotes, all of which are told with the same good natured exuberance.

He, like everyone else interviewed for this article, is single – which makes me wonder what is it with bartenders and personal commitments. He doesn't fail to mention that one of the best things he likes about bartending is, "It gets the girls."

He's also not averse to listening to anyone pour their heart out on a bad night and dispensing advice.

"Sometimes I feel like an under-paid psychologist who gets to ski a lot."



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