Where Everybody Knows Your Name

I walk the 4 blocks to the pub. I give myself a pep talk the entire time.  I will find friends. I will not be the 40-something loser standing alone at the bar for more than a minute. I will be welcomed into the warm embrace of friends or neighbors (or both!) in seconds. 

I walk in the door. I hate the way this bar is laid out.  When you walk through the door, everyone's back is to you. You feel like a first class loser.

I walk directly to the empty spot at the bar directly across from the door. It would normally be a little too close to the musicians, but tonight, praise The Lord, there aren't any and I need not venture all the way into the bar.  I order a beer. An IPA. The bartender is a young girl I have seen here before. Her bar partner is a guy who used to wait on me and Scott. He seems confused that I am alone. He needs to get over it. But all in all, it is a pretty comfortable scene.

I am immediately approached by a young man. He says he won a couple of free drinks and offers me a shot. I refuse for the moment. He offers me some Mardi Gras beads instead. Those I accept.

We start to talk. At least there is someone to talk to, even if he is wearing a two-foot tall hat designed to look like a pint of Guinness with the requisite Bishop's collar. 

He is clearly half my age. So I start a conversation about work. A safe, simple question asking what he does for a living.

He decides to tell me about how famous his parents are and why he's not working at the moment. Given the economy, I bet this conversation is not so different from countless others happening across the nation.

He asks me what I do for a living and I tell him. He is immediately gunning for a job. So, being in Talent Acquisition, I start to screen him like I would anyone else. Subtle, nonthreatening questions that tease out what a person is made of. He seems like he has the chops. At least I have someone to talk to while I wait for all those friends and neighbors to show up!

And then we are approached by his friend; a guy he went to prep school with. A guy who grew up across the street from me. 

"Mrs. Royal?"

I cringe. And then I explain. 

This is about to get very weird.