Raising the Bar

HALEY HAMILTON: I said, "Look, I don't know what your problem is, "but you will not talk to me like that.

"Would you like this drink or should I just get your check?"

SAMANTHA LEE: And then I hear the words that every dancer dreads.

"Thank you for coming today, but we won't be using you."

VERNON PAYNE: I'm like, "Hey, did I head-nod my way into a drug deal?

Like is, is the bread aisle where it goes down?

I don't know!

WES HAZARD: Tonight's theme is "Raising the Bar."

Sometimes you just need to set the bar high.

Now, asking more from ourselves and from others is often not that easy, but it can lead to unexpected changes that make our lives richer and more rewarding.

Tonight, our tellers share their stories of what happened for better and for worse when they raised the bar and went for it.

♪ HAMILTON: My name's Haley Hamilton.

I am a bartender and a writer.

I live in Somerville, Massachusetts and I'm from Reno, Nevada.

What is your favorite part about bartending?

For me, it's, it's really the, the human connection part.

Like, I meet so many people, and most of them are great.

(laughs) And yeah-- we throw a party every night, you know?

HAZARD: I understand that you're also a freelance writer, and I'm just curious what kind of things do you write about?

HAMILTON: So I write-- most of my byline stuff is I write a lot about the industry.

I don't do reviews or anything like that, but I write, I've always called it, like, "Booze, bars, and bar culture."

So I've written about, like, the importance of bystander intervention.

I've written about the great creative pivots that local bars and restaurants made during the pandemic.

I write about what, like, hospitality really means.

So, I'm wondering what made you decide to bring tonight's story to the stage?

HAMILTON: This story, for me, it, it just was, like, so unexpected and so... there...

I just didn't see any of that coming.

And, and, like, those are the fun things, right?

Could have gone down a completely different path.

And I'm just curious, what does tonight's theme mean to you?

HAMILTON: The theme of raising the bar for me is, I mean, in my world, is kind of showing, again, what... like, why a bar and working in a bar is important, like, not just to me, but for... something like three million Americans work in bars and restaurants right now, and a lot of the time that is still, like, looked down upon.

I was really shy when I was little.

Not just the kind of stare at your shoes or hide behind Mom.

No, I would, I would hide under my mom's dresses until I was about eight.

I've grown out of a lot of that shyness.

I, I still get pink when I'm nervous.

I'm probably a little bit splotchy right now.

But today I not only don't mind talking to strangers, I, I do it professionally.

I started bartending when I was 22, and 11 years later, that's still largely how I make a living.

I don't want to do it forever, it's a weird job.

It's a difficult job, but, but I love it, I really do, which is confusing for some people.

And I get it, like, there's probably a few careers outside of medicine, law, and sex work that puts you into contact with a more varied slice of humanity than working behind the bar, but... but it's what I do.

People do ask questions, though.

Usually it's about the menu, kind of like, "What's good?"

"What's on draft?"

Sometimes they're for me.

"What's your name?"

"Where you from?"

And then there's one that that comes with kind of a look, and that one is, "So how did you get into bartending?"

Which, because of the way society still views people who work labor-intensive trades, particularly tipped labor-intensive trades, the look kind of says, "If you're too old to be a college student, "and seem relatively well adjusted, why are you still bartending?"

It's not a bad question; it's an offensive question, but it's not a bad question.

A few years ago, towards the end of a quiet weekday night, I had two men in suits walk in.

And there was something different about them.

The energy in the room kind of shifted.

And it, it wasn't different, like they were already drunk or wanted to cause a fight or something.

They were just... different.

That's okay, I work with the public.

Different is part of my job.

"Hey gentlemen, how are you?"

I said, walking over with menus.

"We're just great," one of them snarled.

Oh good, this is going to be fun.

I said, "Well, sorry to hear that.

See if a drink can make you feel better."

My "to serve or not to serve" antenna were twitching.

If that aggression had been directed at me, personally, never would have let them stay, but there's not much I can do for someone just being a jerk.

They sit down, look around.

Guy says, "Let me get a Jimador on the rocks."

I turned to our tequila shelf.

We didn't have Jimador.

I knew that, but I had to look just in case one had grown overnight.

You never wanna say, "Oh, we don't have that," when this one time you do.

As I was looking, pausing, waiting to say we don't have that, he said, "Are you going to get that, or what?"

I froze, keeping my back to them so they couldn't see what my face was doing.

I wasn't scared, I was pissed.

Turned around, "I know it's a tequila, "we don't have that one.

Something else I can get you?"

"Oh," he said, seemingly humbled.

"Just, just a tequila.

Whatever you got on the rocks."

"You got it, and what would you like?"

I asked his friend.

"How about a Pinot noir, you got that?"

Just making sure that I knew that our lack of Jimador was not not my fault?

"Sure do," I said.

The bottle of Pinot noir on the bar behind me didn't have enough for a full glass.

So I grabbed a wine glass, put it down on the bar, and went to go get a new bottle.

When I got back, bottle in hand, corkscrew at the ready, he just lost it.

"Are you gonna pour that or what?"

And that was it, that was it.

I... when I was younger, that would have put me in tears, it would've sent me running for a manager, but I know better now.

I knew what I had to say and that I was right to say it.

I step close, just the three feet of the bar in between us.

And I said, "Look, "I don't know what your problem is, "but you will absolutely not talk to me like that.

"Would you like this drink?

Or should I just get your check?"

He was too stunned to answer.

He looked at his friend, who looked at me.

I smiled.

The silence stretched.

And then I saw their faces change.

You could see the personal whatever they had going on kind of coming back into context with the rest of the world, the world where I was standing.

They knew we were at a crossroads.

I could kick them out, or they could let me in.

"We're... (sighs) we're sorry, "we're sorry, we, we just... we just came from a funeral," they started.

Another said, "But, but you're right, you're right, "we shouldn't be taking that out on you, it's just...

It was just an awful day."

I could feel my heart clench.

I could feel myself forgiving them.

But, more than that?

I could feel that they were seeing me.

We weren't just two friends and a bartender anymore.

We were three people.

Three people doing the best to get through this weird, crazy, scary, but beautiful world.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

"Let me know if you need anything else.

First round's on me."

It was a small gesture.

It was just picking up that round, but we all knew it was more than that.

It was a way for me to say, "I see you, too.

You're not alone."

Which, which is why people go to bars.

If all you wanted to do was get a drink, you can, you can do that at home.

People go to bars to be a part of something.

To connect, to put the pieces together.

And when I'm at work, part of my job is helping make that happen.

And that's why I'm still bartending.

♪ LEE: My name is Samantha Lee.

I'm originally from Boston, Massachusetts, and I own a dance studio in Concord, Massachusetts.

I've done that for about 13 years.

Always grew up as a dancer, went to school for dance, just always been a big part of my life and kind of my, my true passion.

HAZARD: And now you're doing storytelling.

How did that come to be?

How did you come to the stage?

I...

I don't know, honestly.

I've never been... to be honest, I've never been great with public speaking.

You know, my ballet teacher used to tell me, "If you want to talk, be an actor."

And I never really even thought of pursuing that side, but it was really nice to kind of explore it a little, and tell a story that, that meant something to me.

So what was that process like, getting to the point where you were able to tell this story on stage for what would be an audience, you know, a national TV audience?

- Yeah.

- Walk me through that, like, you know, were you nervous?

Was it... you know, what was your... did you tell it into a mirror, did you record yourself?

How did that work?

All of the above.

I actually would sit in my studio, looking at myself in the mirror when... after classes ended for the night, and I would record it.

HAZARD: Wow.

Yeah, so I figured, if I can do it in my, like, you know, my happy place which is the studio... - Exactly.

- ...I should be okay.

When I was in my early 20s, I was auditioning for any work I could get as a dancer.

Absolutely anything.

And I remember I had an audition outside of Hartford, Connecticut, for our cruise line.

I was feeling so confident that day.

I had on my red leotard, my T-strap heels.

I knew everything, I researched the company, I was ready to go.

So, file into the audition room, standing in our lines by our numbers, and one by one, the casting director starts calling numbers forward.

Calls my number, feel a little hopeful.

And then...

I hear the words that every dancer dreads.

"Thank you for coming today, but we won't be using you."

(exasperated laugh) And I felt so defeated in that moment.

We hadn't even done a single step.

I hadn't danced for anybody in this room.

And yet, based on... how I looked, I was being cut, and it just felt so arbitrary that we would do that based on appearance and not talent.

So, that day I kind of realized that if I ever wanted to spark any change in the dance world, that it wasn't going to be through performing, that it was gonna be through my other job, which was teaching.

So, fast forward a few years, and I decide I'm going to open my own studio.

I'm going to train the best dancers.

And I knew that I was gonna have a couple challenges that I would face.

One, as a female small business owner, and also as a Latina small business owner.

I had to be laser-focused.

I had no room for error.

I had to take emotion out of it, right?

I had to just... all the time it was, it was like tunnel vision on a goal.

I'm in my first year teaching and I'm all business in the studio, right?

I'm not making friends with these kids.

I'm there to teach them.

And I'm teaching a jazz class, and I notice a little girl named Sarah.

And Sarah, I could just tell she was struggling with something-- I didn't know what, but I could tell.

She would step to the side in class, and... or go to the bathroom, and she would come back and I could tell that she had been crying.

So, one day, after it had happened probably three weeks in a row, I decided I needed to take, you know... let emotion into teaching.

And I had to find out what was going on with this kid, see if I could help in some way.

So, put the music on.

We were dancing to "Popular" from Wicked.

Let the rest of the class keep practicing and had Sarah come with me into the lobby so we could talk.

And I closed the door... And as soon as I closed it, I just looked at her and I said, you know, "Sarah, what's wrong?

What's going on with you?"

And she just broke down in tears.

And in that moment I felt so much empathy for this little girl.

Because she just... she was hurting, you could tell.

And she said to me, you know, "I, I'm young, I know, "but I want to be a professional dancer someday.

I love this so much, but I know I'm not good enough."

(sighs) And it just... it just broke my heart.

Because here was this young girl putting so much pressure on herself to be perfect and holding herself to this unattainable level that no one can do.

And I saw a lot of myself in her in that moment.

Because I remember feeling that way growing up, when I was dancing.

Except I never told anybody that.

And I never had someone that I could talk to about it, And I think it, it took a toll on me.

So, I sat her down next to me and gave her a big hug.

And I just explained that, you know, dance isn't about perfection.

And if you have a bad day, a bad class, a bad moment in class, it doesn't matter.

What matters and what makes you a great dancer is the sum of all these things together, and the lessons that you take from them.

And I told her something that my ballet teacher told our class frequently, which was, "Think of dancing as perfection, "and perfection as your shadow.

"You always know it's there, but you can never quite catch it."

And I always loved that.

I thought it summed up dance so perfectly.

And... her face kind of softened and I could see her taking it in.

She gave me a hug and we walked back into the studio.

And I remember the rest of that class was the first time I saw that kid smile all year.

And not just a... "I'm smiling because it's a jazz class and you're making me," but a real smile.

And I saw her for the first time.

And after that, she was a different kid.

And as a teacher, that just felt so good that I could potentially have an impact on someone.

And I realized in that moment that these kids were holding themselves to such high standards.

I didn't have to.

And, you know, I've now owned my business for 13 years, I've taught hundreds of students.

And I still remember that day because it was the day that I realized that I needed to lower my bar, so that I could raise the bar for these kids.

And Sarah?

Sarah actually did go on to become a professional dancer.

And a teacher.

♪ Every single class that you go into, you learn something new.

Learning different ways to interact with kids, what they respond to, what they don't, learning about their life and, and their, you know, hopes, dreams, joys.

It's kind of balancing how to personalize things, but also, keeping a calm classroom.

(laughs) ♪ PAYNE: My name is Vernon Payne, I'm from Brooklyn, New York.

I've been a standup for about 13 years, and storytelling for, like, you know, a little bit less, but I've been really enjoying that, that as well.

Was comedy part of your life when you were growing up, were you cracking jokes a lot?

Yeah, it was, like, whenever, whenever my family's around each other, you know, I have four uncles, yeah, I got, I got four uncles there and each one has their own different type of personality, but, like, and my grandma and my, my mom.

But, like, really, once the whole family gets together, whenever we do, it is just jabs at everyone.

It doesn't matter who you are, it doesn't matter what's going on in life, everyone, everyone gets the jokes, you know?

So, what role would you say that storytelling has played in your life?

PAYNE: It has been a good savior.

For, for, you know, those times when I'm just not feeling it as far as being a standup.

And it's saved me from, like, kind of quitting a little bit.

What is a lesson, a thought, an idea that you would love the people who see this story tonight to walk away with?

You know, I want them to walk away with an understanding that, like, life, life is... very tough, you know, and there's so many things that are fighting each other, you know-- men, women, whatever that, whatever this, whatever that.

And as much as it is tough to be a person, you have to try to be the best person that you can be.

Being a man sometimes can be tough because you're constantly battling society versus nature, especially with women.

Society tells you not to yell at women in the streets, but nature is like, "Yo, "I think you should let that girl know how much you like her thighs, son."

And you're like, "Are you sure?"

And nature acts like the guy from Men's Wearhouse, like, "Yo, she gonna like the way you say it, I guarantee it."

I just never understood yelling at women in the streets, like I just never had the confidence to be like, "Hey, yo, Ma," because when I say, "Hey, yo, Ma, I am talking to my mother, trying to get her attention.

"Hey, yo, Ma, can I borrow five dollars?"

Being uncomfortable is something, like, I had never had to worry about.

But the funny thing about life is that it has this way of putting its things down, flipping it and reversing it.

One day, about ten years ago, I walked to the supermarket and I caught eyes with this random guy that was on line.

So, I gave him the Black dude head nod, "Hey yo, what's up," and I kept on going.

Now, I don't know if you guys know this about Black people, but we don't give out frivolous head nods, and if we do, we give out two-- one is for hello, the other's for goodbye.

Anything more than that pretty much means that someone's about to get beat up, or there's a deal about to go down.

So I give him the Black dude head nod, "Hey yo, what's up," and I continue my way to the bread aisle.

And once I'm in, I'm trying to figure out if I should get the cool, hip cinnamon raisin bread, or the overly healthy seven-grain bread.

And that's how you know you're getting older is when your choices are flavor versus staying regular.

And as I'm in the aisle, that guy comes up that aisle that I'm in.

We lock eyes, I give him the Black dude head nod, "Hey yo, what's up," that is two, okay.

Two minutes later, he comes back down the aisle.

We lock eyes again, I give him the head nod.

"Hey yo, what's up," that is three.

You have reached your Black dude head nod limit.

But then I'm like, hey... did I head nod my way into a drug deal?

Like, is, is the bread aisle where it goes down?

Is pondering about Pepperidge Farm the signal?

I don't know.

So, I go into the next aisle.

As I'm there, I look around, and I see that guy along the edge, just walking, looking my way.

Okay, so I hop in the next one.

And there he goes again, along the edge walking, just looking my way.

And I'm like yo, if this is supposed to be some type of drug deal, this is the creepiest deal I've ever had to be a part of.

So, I hop in the next one, the last one.

I look around.

No one is to be found, I take a breath.

(exhales) Turn around again, there he goes, coming down that aisle.

So I'm like, you know what, I'm gonna face my fears.

He comes up to me and he's like, "Hey man, I see you around the store."

And I'm like, "Really?

(chuckles) You don't say."

And he's like, "Um, you know, I think you're cute."

And I'm like, wait a minute, you did all of that to tell me that I'm cute?

You weirdo.

But I didn't...

I didn't say that.

Like because as he said that, for a second there, like, I felt pretty, you know?

Like, no woman has ever made me feel like the princess in the spaghetti aisle.

It hasn't happened.

You know, one day I would love to be the Ragu queen, but it hasn't happened yet.

And he's like, "Hey man, can I get your number?"

And I'm like... no.

But I didn't, I didn't say that.

What I did was I took my phone out of my pocket, so I can pretend to put his number in my phone.

And as I'm doing that, I'm like why am I even doing this?

I'm not even gay, I'm not even interested.

But my mom never gave me the tools to say no to a dude.

And as I am putting his number in my phone, or at least pretending to...

I realize why I am doing it.

It's because of my inability to say no has me pleasing this guy's ego so he can leave me alone so I can go about my day.

I have never had to feel that helpless before.

So, I take my phone, put it in my back pocket, and I'm like, "I'll give you a call sometime."

And he leaves.

I stay in the supermarket for another ten minutes just to, like, pass the time between him and I.

And once I leave, there he goes, coming down the parking lot in his truck.

"Hey man, do you want a ride?"

I'm like, no, you creep, I don't even know you, plus you didn't even give me the chance to even call you.

You know, at least let me think about it first.

I'm not going to, but he doesn't know that.

And as I'm walking home, I have to walk through a park.

And as I'm walking, I'm looking around to see if he is following me.

And this is the first time that I ever had to be scared of a man.

Especially a man that's following me.

And when I get home, I opened up my curtains, just to see if his car is around.

It isn't, but it doesn't matter.

Because I stayed home for another 30 minutes just to pass the time, just in case that it was around.

And it isn't until, like, I put this together, and the voice of women start to raise up, that I realize that this is what women have to go through all the time on the daily basis, ten times more.

And as a man, like, you're supposed to be the protector, but what happens when the protector is, is the aggressor?

What happens?

And I have, I have never been and I will never be this guy, but it has me thinking about the little things that I may have done to make a woman feel uncomfortable.

Whether it be dumb things that I may have said, or just maybe an overly lingering look.

And despite that being nature, you know, rearing its face, it doesn't make me feel good that I've done that.

And I realized that the only thing I can do is lead the path to be a better person, and change my behavior, no matter how minute.

Because even if I am the only one that sees it, the best act I can do as a man is to unlearn the ways of the world.

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