In early October of 2007, about a week before our move to Austin, I was in the local Albertson’s buying something (probably Diet Coke and butter) when I heard a female voice say my name. I turned around and saw that it was Jenny – the best bartender ever. About once every three weeks or so, the old work gang would get off early and spend a couple of hours at Bobby V’s for burgers and beer, and Jenny was our bartender/server/antagonist. She dished out cut-downs as well as she poured tall Miller Lites.
So as I saw her that day, with her newly cut hair and looking almost boyish, I told her about Dawn and I moving to Austin and she told me about her new job: a member of the Fort Worth Fire Department. A staple of Bobby V’s had been removed because of her innate need to serve the public in a different manner. From then on, her hose would be filled with water to save lives as opposed to being filled with beer to try and keep up with Joe.
I knew that would be that last time that I’d see her. Like a fledgling leaving the nest, I did not need her anymore.
Despite what you know, or think you know, about my fondness for beer, I am not a big “bar guy”. In fact, I am happier when having a cold one at home. But the Bobby V’s days were more about comraderie than the suds. Joe, Debra and Brandon with a twist of Jenny. Sure, others joined us at times, but us four coworkers and the bitchy bartender (who, oddly, gave me the confidence to think I actually had a shot with Dawn) were the highlights of many weeks.
So last week I was reading the old hometown newspaper online when I came across this atricle about the Arlington smoking ban and how it has affected business in the city. A few paragraphs stood out.
Pete Moore, who owns Bobby V’s Sports Gallery Cafe on Bowen Road near Interstate 20, said his business is off 15 percent.
Pete, Pete, Pete… It is because I moved. So sorry.
He said people used to come to the bar, eat and drink a few beers while watching a game. Now, the people who still come to the bar area eat and leave with smaller checks.
Pete, Pete, Pete… That is because I quit my job.
“People who used to come in two or three times a week will come in once every two or three months to say ‘hi,'” he said. “I can go to restaurants in Mansfield and see my old customers there.”
Ok, Pete. Now you are exaggerating. Maybe the mullet guy doesn’t frequent your place quite as much, but I don’t think I have ever been there more than one time per week.
And, by the way, don’t discount the fact that Jenny left. Good help is hard to find.