Acquaintances Are My Weakness

As best as I can determine, human relationships fall into three categories: romantic relationships, friendships, and casual acquaintances.  I've realized over the years that if anyone exists who doesn't have a weakness in creating or maintaining at least one of the three above types of relationships, I haven't met him or her yet.

Adults, even the well-adjusted ones I count as friends, seem to fall into one of the three below groups:

• Weak at romantic relationships, but good at friendships and good at casual acquaintances: This type of person has a wonderful social network but, by active decision or by simply not caring, rarely enters the world of romantic relationships.  There could be many reasons for this, but I'm not this type of person so any attempt of my own to understand this better would be conjecture and likely inaccurate.  
• Weak at friendships, good at romantic relationships and good at casual acquaintances: This is probably the least common of the three groups, but I do know a few people like this.  They can date someone seriously, they know a thousand people anywhere they go, but they only have like four people they can confide in and would meet my criteria of a true friend.  Again, I'm not this type of person so I don't want to dive too deeply into motivations, reasons, or whatnot - but I suspect trust may be the fundamental issue here.
• Weak at making casual acquaintances, good at romantic relationships and good at friendships: This is the bucket I place myself in.  Let's explore this a bit deeper...

I haven't always been this functional, but maintaining a stable and loving relationship with my wife isn't difficult at all - we have a strong, constructive relationship; we value the same things, and we love each other deeply.  Neither of us like yelling at each other (though we do this sometimes, which is a good thing).  Anything can happen in a relationship, but I feel like ours is an especially high-quality one.

Keeping close friends around isn't a challenge for me, either.  When I meet someone who I find interesting, and if the feeling is mutual, you're my friend until you decide you don't want to be my friend anymore.  I treat my friendships seriously and I count my friends as some of the most important people in my life.  In quantity as well as in quality, I feel I have more close friends than most people.  I'm going to pat myself in the back (metaphorically) for this here, because I'm about to enter a world where I'm likely to get kinda hard on myself.

Acquaintances are my weakness.  It's my critical, yet casual, observation that other adults put themselves in situations where they get to know lots of other people to a greater extent than myself.  They are also better at getting to know these people - they share a greater curiosity regarding other people, and/or are less nervous of being judged by them than I am.  I tend to keep to myself at parties, and as a result I don't get to know as many people as I otherwise could.

This is a ton of self-analysis which may or may not be interesting to anyone else, but I think it's because of each of the below factors:

1. I really, probably, am a rare type of person: I have strange interests and it's pretty clear I am of reasonable intelligence, which already turns off half of the people in the world (who are scared of quirky, smart people).
2. I am terrified of rejection: Failure bothers me, especially in a social context, and it's safer to get to know fewer people vs. more if you're worried (irrationally, of course) about not being considered "cool" or interesting.
3. I was never socialized correctly: I grew up in a really strange environment where everyone around me was either super quiet or super insanely loud, so I tend to assume the worst when I don't know someone.  The number one trait I hope not to carry on to my child, whenever he or she happens to happen, is this one.  I actively want my future child to talk to strangers.  They need to learn at a young age that virtually everyone is harmless.
4. I'm not a "joiner."  It's next to impossible to get me to join a group - it's the hardest thing in the world for me to do.  Part of it is the self-deprecating old Mark Twain saying, that I'd never want to be a part of any group which would have me as a member.  Part is the social phobia and fear of rejection thing, from above.  Another part is my latent libertarianism (I just don't really like groups of people, due to groupthink and the potential for bad things to happen when people cluster together). 

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My next question is whether having acquaintances is even important; that is, of the three types of people I've listed above, is it the case that being the third type (which I am) makes a person less happy than being either of the previous two?  I have absolutely no idea whether this is the case - I suppose someone out there researches this kind of thing, but I haven't taken any time to look it up.  Perhaps I should, at some point.

I can say that personally (not generally speaking), the feeling that I don't know lots of people is important enough to me such that I've decided to take the time out of a lovely Sunday afternoon to write this blog post, so it must be a topic of at least some importance.  It's my opinion I'd be a happier, less anxious, and more well-adjusted adult if I knew more people.  My goal for this next decade of my life, my goal for my thirties, is to somehow end the decade knowing more people than I did at the beginning.

This will be difficult to do, because I'll have to work consciously to undo some of the mental barriers I've built over the first thirty years of my life.  It'll also be difficult because of the nature of being in one's thirties, a time in life when most people turn inward and spend more time at home with their spouse and child(ren).  But I still am hopeful I can pull it off.

There's no magic bullet for something like this, but some potential solutions may include:

• Sucking it up and joining a group: Eventually, I'm going to have to do this, right?  I've thought long and hard about joining some combination of a running group or a volunteering organization.  At some point I'm just going to hit a critical mass of motivation and/or desperation toward myself, and join a group.
• Having a kid: I'm pretty sure as I get older, the percentage of people who remain childless will continue to decrease.  If I really want to get to know more people, that's a nice secondary benefit of having kids.
• Not caring so damn much: This sort of defeats the whole purpose of this article, but if it doesn't matter to you, the problem doesn't exist, right?  I'm totally grateful for my wife and my friends, shouldn't that be enough?  And, borrowing from Eastern philosophy, shouldn't not caring so much lead to what you truly want coming true?  Something like this would be very far outside my comfort zone - I've spent the last thirty years grinding to make the things I want to have happen actually happen - but it's certainly a possibility.

What about you, blog reader?  Where do you find yourself in the categorization I described above, and do you feel comfortable where you are?  Have you ever dealt with anything like this?  Have any solutions worked well for you? 

SHUT IT DOWN! An Ode to "Bar Rescue," The Best Bad Show on TV

People spend their Sundays in various ways, but most agree that Sunday should be a laid-back day - it is, after all, the day of rest.  I admit to having spent many recent Sundays in front of the living room television, watching the "Bar Rescue" marathons on Spike (yes, I know, the bro-iest of bro channels). 

Today I'd like to write a bit about why I enjoy "Bar Rescue" so much, and why I think it's the best "bad" show on TV.  Your definition of "bad" may vary from mine; I conceive of "bad" TV as anything that doesn't aspire to high art or intellectual insight, doesn't explore any new ideas and doesn't differ procedurally from other shows of the same type.  Using these criteria alone, "Bar Rescue" does not vary notably from any of a dozen reality shows which center around the restaurant world ("Restaurant: Impossible" and "Dinner: Impossible" immediately come to mind, though one cannot completely neglect the extremely, reprehensibly Canadian "Restaurant Stakeout" and any number of similar shows on other channels, seemingly cut from the same Anthony Bourdain let's explore the gritty side of restaurant life in a reality TV show ideal).  But somehow, "Bar Rescue" is more interesting, more human, and keeps me glued to the TV all Sunday afternoon when I really should be outside pulling weeds (or something).

The premise behind "Bar Rescue" is quite simple: a bar is struggling and needs help.  Help comes in the imposing personage of Jon Taffer, a brusque teddy bear of a bar/leisure genius whose claim to fame (in addition to being a charter member of the Nightclub Hall of Fame, whatever - and wherever - that might be) is creating his own company which consults the bar/nightclub industries.  Whenever I hear Jon Taffer speak, I think of Mr. French from The Departed, who tells Leonardo DiCaprio's character (after roughing up a Southie local in a Boston bar): "Now, that's not quite a guy you can't hit, but it's almost a guy you can't hit."  John Taffer seems like almost the kind of guy you can't hit - he sounds like a connected individual, if you know what I mean.

But I digress: as far as I can tell, the show has nothing to do with organized crime.  Really it's about dysfunction, mismanagement, and the application of something vaguely referred to as "bar science" used - in combination with an overnight, extremely expensive renovation - to turn the bar around and make it more profitable.  "Bar science" is a combination of demography, market research, common sense, and psychotherapy (mostly, it seems, the psychotherapy part, because BAR OWNERS BE CRAZY).

You would probably know this already if you've watched any of the shows listed in the second paragraph above, but some people decide to own bars for really stupid reasons.  If you're like me, you've had that night at the bar with your friends where you decide opening a bar together would be the best idea ever.  You've got a (drunken) plan that sounds fantastic; all you need is start-up capital.  But then you go home, sober up, remember how much work it is to run a bar, and permanently shelve the idea.  Amazingly, there are people in the world who've already acquired start-up capital, get drunk one night and then ACTUALLY BUY A FUCKING BAR.  I don't understand how people forget crucial elements of starting a business such as "creating a business plan," "double-checking cash flow estimates," and "confirming you're not out of your goddamned mind," but hey, like P.T. Barnum once said, there's a sucker born every minute.

When I say these bars are in bad shape before Taffer gets there, I mean they are in really bad shape.  They don't clean their keg lines, so beer comes out contaminated and skunked.  Kitchens are never cleaned; basic sanitation rules are ignored; bugs can (sometimes) be everywhere.  You would never want to eat (or drink) at any of the bars on "Bar Rescue."  Additionally, mismanagement is rampant - some of these places have fights every night; others are glorified strip clubs.  There are countless alcoholics running these places (which may or may not surprise you, depending on how much you know about the bar industry). 

Others have the problems that don't belong to specific people, such as that of being an ill-defined concept - hookah bars in Omaha; golf-themed bars (apparently this never works), etc.  Still others are in unfortunate locations, like in nondescript strip malls and off of tertiary country roads.  Usually, it's some combination of the above.  Long story short, these places are really messed up, and "Bar Rescue" (to its credit) doesn't spare the rod in describing the problems with the bars - including getting into specifics about the magnitude of debt the owners possess, and how much time they have to float their small business loan before they go out of business for good.

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You should definitely watch the show if you're interested in watching how the bars actually get rescued.  I can't do this justice in a single paragraph, but essentially it goes like this: Taffer and his companions (usually a master bartender/mixologist and a chef, though this depends on the context) work collaboratively to fix the personal and institutional dysfunction in the bar.  First they observe the bar using hidden cameras, then Taffer enters the bar and addresses immediate issues. Then there's a "stress test", where the bar staff does the best they can without training (and falls flat on their faces, almost all the time).  Next, training happens - sometimes, one or two bad seeds get fired in the process.  The bar gets completely remodeled, often given a new name and/or a new concept, and three days later it re-opens under its new name.  You (almost all of the time) see improvement.  Taffer leaves; there's an epilogue where you learn how much bar sales have improved over the last six weeks or so. 

It's cool to watch the logistics behind how Taffer fixes the physical issues with the bars.  Whether or not you believe in "bar science," there's little doubt the dude hasn't picked up a ton of useful information in his 30+ years in the industry.  He sees through issues and fixes them with a combination of bluntness, bluster and yelling (and MAN, can Jon Taffer scream - he seems like a very nice guy, but dude has a lightning-quick temper).

I'm not sure I buy the epilogues, though.  It shouldn't be that easy to turn these things around.  Looking at these essential bar problems as a businessperson, there's no way you can fix issues like "the manager's a drunk and has self-selected an employment position where they are constantly around alcohol" or "the bartenders have no clue how to serve drinks" in only three days.  I worked as a waiter for a few summers before and while in college, and I was terrible at it.  I eventually got a job at a fine dining place in Sea Bright, NJ, and could barely manage four tables at a time.  I spilled wine on people constantly - I could barely balance a tray with three entrees on it.  I sucked, and I sucked for reasons that weren't very fixable.  You can't just come in for three days and fix suck. It takes a while to create a well-oiled machine...

But that's Hollywood for you, right?  When watching it, you get the fantastical sense that "Bar Rescue" works.  If I had the free time and disposable income, I'd want to go on a "Bar Rescue" road trip and talk to the people who work at these places - I have questions for them.  Did they immediately revert back to their dysfunctional ways, after Taffer and his team left?  Was it fun getting yelled at for a reality TV show?  That's the thing about the whole shitty genre of restaurant reality TV: even if you don't know the characters, if you've ever waited tables or bussed or cleaned dishes at a restaurant before, you know the characters.  There's a familiar yet odd combination of insanity, stupidity, back-breaking labor, gallows humor, substance abuse, and low wages about the people portrayed on "Bar Rescue."  It all ends up being humanizing.  With some (notable) exceptions, you want to root for them.  If I ever did go on that "Bar Rescue" road trip, and the bar was actually pretty decent, you bet your ass I would tip well.

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To conclude, some cool tidbits about "Bar Rescue":

• Taffer's only walked out on one rescue (that shitty O-Face bar in Iowa), but a few of the rescued bars immediately reverted back to their original concept after the "Bar Rescue" team left.  Many more have since closed down - the Wikipedia page for Bar Rescue is a good resource for this (someone really pays close attention to this shit).
• According to iMDB, here's how the secret cameras work: The bars are told they are one of three bars in the area that might be selected for the show.  But in reality, they're the only bar selected, and this helps keep everyone off-guard for when Jon Taffer walks in.
• Also according to iMDB, the renovation budget for each bar is huge (up to $100,000 per episode), even though certain upgrades (like Point of Sale systems) are leased and ultimately it's up to the bar owners to keep up with the payments.