Another in the "Work Ethic" series of workers working. This depicts the period before the restaurant opens, when the restaurant exclusively belongs to the workers. Here, the bartender is preparing for his shift, bringing out new bottles for the back-bar, unwrapping the well bottles, wiping down the bar-top, cutting fruit. He hasn't changed into uniform yet, is wearing a dumpy sweat shirt and looking a little "pie-eyed".
Significantly, there are fresh flowers on the back-bar, reflected in the mirror. Earlier in the afternoon the flower-arranger had created her twice weekly arrangement. The controlled coloring allowed by this painting's algorithm prevented the true color of the flower display to manifest in paint. In the restaurant the flowers were an important visual focal point, adding much to the public's enjoyment of the atmosphere. Also the arranger was a welcome presence for the prep crew who labored all day while the restaurant was closed to the public preparing the food for the evening dinner service.
She was a delightful woman of about 30 years. Almost impossibly beautiful in structure and manner. Gorgeous and graceful, she brought flowers and leaves of amazing colors and textures. The men in the day crew all enjoyed having her in the house. Watching her walk in the kitchen clean her vase, get fresh water, walk out to the bar, make her arrangement was the highlight of their day. If they could sit at the bar and talk with her, that might make their week.
Like the others, I loved seeing her, unlike the others, I fained indifference. Though, I found excuses to walk past her, making polite, brief greetings. I didn't gawk, but absorbed her exquisite beauty in quick glances.
When I made the collaged study for this painting, I printed a copy of it for her, because it had her flowers in it and because I wanted her to know I did something besides cook at the restaurant. When she finished her arrangement and was preparing to leave, I handed her the loose print, explaining I wanted her to have it, because it included her flowers. She was intrigued as she looked at it, looked at me, then back at the print. "I like it, it's very lively", she said. She surprised me by quickly, but sweetly kissing me on my lips. "Thank you", she said simply and walked out.
We had been alone in the dining room. The next person who came in was the manager, who had a history of expressing his admiration for the flower lady. To the owner, he had often defended the inflated price we had to pay for her service. "She makes the best arrangements, their drama deepens the customer's experience, creates loyalty". To us he'd say what we knew and agreed with, it was worth the high price to have her in our lives. "The flower lady kissed me!" I blurted out like a kid. "What?" the manager asked, with big incredulous eyes. When he was convinced that I was telling the truth, he joked, "can I kiss you?"
