Here is another one where we felt like we were bothering the bartender by being there. She was alone, granted, but it was a low key Sunday afternoon. No one was lined up at the bar…well, for the most part.
She was annoyed at my question about food (even though there were posters all over about an Octoberfest that day–with food) and equally annoyed that I ordered a flight. I get it, flights can be annoying if you are busy. It wasn’t busy. And I have seen bars limit when they serve flights–totally fair! When we went up to pay, she was helping someone else and kicked a keg. She stopped what she was doing. Got a ladder. Took the sign down. Cleaned it off. Re-hung it. And then put her ladder away. THEN decided to help the four people who were waiting for her.
We don’t want to go so far as to say that we got the “you’re not from around here” disdain from folks. But, we couldn’t help but wonder.
In any case, the memory of our time at Chuckanut has nothing to do with the taste or quality of the beer, and all about the service.
So, there is that.