Customers really do consider bartenders sympathetic listeners

Early one morning, a few years ago, a tourist from Georgia walked into the Stake Out Bar and Grill for a beer.

"I could tell he was kind of depressed," recalls Jim Mengel, bartender and manager at the Stake Out, 4800 S. Maryland Parkway. "So I talked to him. I tried to get him to open up."

Minutes later, after the guy had opened up like a happy hour pistachio, the man told Mengel that he and his wife were in Las Vegas on vacation and that they had taken out a loan to remodel their kitchen.

Then, Mengel says, the guy confided that "when she went to bed, he had gambled all of the remodeling money away. And now he tells me he can't go back."

Know that cliche about how bartenders are psychiatrists without diplomas, priests without collars, wise confidantes with impeccable discretion? Turns out that, like most cliches, it's kind of true, say several valley bartenders who may not have heard it all but sure have heard a goodly chunk of it.

There's something about the combination of a comfy bar, a few drinks and a willing listener wielding a bar towel that can prompt even the most reticent among us to unburden our souls about the most personal of things.

Certainly, the inhibition-reducing effect of a few drinks has something to do with it. Customers "get drunk and they want to talk," Mengel says.

But, beyond that, "I think people come into the bar looking for release," Mengel says. "They want to talk to somebody."

"I think it's just like going to a counselor," says Rick Santora, owner of Santora's Sunset Bar & Grill, 4401 E. Sunset Road, Henderson. "Basically, they just want someone to vent to."

Sometimes, it's the anonymity of talking to a bartender that's appealing. Mengel notes that the Stake Out has a strong local clientele but, because of its proximity to the Strip, also serves a hefty population of tourists who have never stopped in before and may never stop in again.

In spite of -- or maybe because of -- such anonymity, "people tell you all about themselves," Mengel says. "People you've never met before just go on and on about their lives."

Others feel more comfortable unburdening themselves to familiar faces.

"If a customer comes in every day, I can tell if they're in a good mood or a bad mood," says Courtney Jantz, general manager and bartender at PT's Gold, 6610 S. Fort Apache Road. "They want to be asked, 'What's wrong?' "

Romantic problems are a common reason for patron-bartender consults.

"I feel like a relationship counselor sometimes," Jantz says. Take the regular who sought her advice about whether he should rekindle a relationship with a former fiancee.

"Guys ask me for a female perspective," Jantz says. "Or, a lot of times, people just ask for advice, and I try to give it to them, but I don't ever want to be responsible for whatever direction they take."

More recently, patrons have been bending bartenders' ears about job stress, layoffs, unemployment and other close-to-home economic setbacks.

"A lot of guys come in and they're stressed out about work," Jantz says. "I feel it's my job to spin it around and turn it into a positive. They don't want to sit there and listen to me talk about depressing stuff. They want to come in and be cheered up and walk out in a good mood."

For a time, Chris Scarpulla, general manager and bartender at PT's Gold, 3770 S. Hualapai Way, worked at a PT's location near a St. Rose Dominican Hospitals campus. There, he would often engage in some very serious conversations with customers about hospitalized or ill loved ones.

"I actually got to know quite a few people just by them stopping in to get something to eat and a beer on their way home," he says.

But, beyond such serious topics, patron-bartender discussions can cover just about anything. "People get surprisingly personal," Jantz says. "Sometimes I have to step back and say, 'Did they really just say that?' "

For instance? "They'll talk about getting a bikini wax," Jantz says. "People are very open when they feel comfortable. It's surprising at times, but I feel that it's my job to make them feel comfortable."

Even the conversations that a bartender overhears can veer a bit too much into the painfully personal. Once, while working at a different bar, Mengel overheard a man and a woman negotiating the price of an erotic encounter.

"They negotiated down to 21 dollars and 50 cents," Mengel says. "I'm just listening to this, (wondering) why it's $21.50. Why not $21.40, you know?"

When the guy left the table for a moment, Mengel felt compelled to ask the woman. "She said she needed $1.50 for the bus home," he says, laughing. "That is definitely the weirdest thing I ever heard."

But there are limits to a bartender's conviviality. Joe Ruggles, manager and bartender at PT's Pub, 5355 S. Decatur Blvd., notes that, "here in Vegas, things (in bars) are so fast-paced and you've got a lot going on in the bar at one time."

So, the demands of running the business and of tending to all of the bar's customers, and not just a few talkative ones, often reduce the time he can spend talking with patrons.

Still, Ruggles adds, "I've been here in this location for 11 years, and I know my customers and they know a lot about me. So we do share a lot of stories."

By the way: While bartenders don't enjoy the legal confidentiality protections bestowed on priests and therapists, rest assured that a good drink slinger certainly understands the value of zipped lips.

"Absolutely. I keep NDAs (nondisclosure agreements) behind the bar with me," Scarpulla jokes.

Mengel agrees. "You're out there seeing a lot, but you know nothing," he says.

"There's no judgment for a bartender," Scarpulla adds. "You are who you are, and we accept you for that."

So, whatever became of that tourist who probably ended up delaying that big kitchen remodel?

"He did not want to leave," Mengel says. "I basically got him to drink water to sober up so he could go tell his wife."

Contact reporter John Przybys at jprzybys@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0280.