It’s that time of week when we answer the questions you’re too drunk or shy to ask…This question comes from Frank: I’m 49 years old, and I’ve always been fascinated by bartending. I love cocktails and have an impressive home bar. I know all the classic drink recipes and would call myself an educated amateur. I’ve recently been feeling like I want to try my hand behind the bar, but would anyone hire me? How would I go about it?My question for you, Frank, is WHY? It sounds like, and forgive me if I’m wrong, you’re one of those burgeoning cocktail connoisseurs who’d love to get in on the game. It’s no game, son, and it’s not just about your age. This question makes me laugh the same way I laugh when someone who likes to bake for fun wants to open a bakery. The fantasy lives a galaxy away from gritty reality. You’d get off far more cheaply just buying yourself that convertible to go along with your midlife crisis. But I hate to be flip if you’re serious. Seriously, are you serious?Have you ever worked construction for a living or run a marathon? Wanting to turn you into a bartender at your age, with no experience, is about the equivalent of wanting to start running marathons or wanting to become a day laborer. I know plenty of great bartenders older than you, but it’s one thing to be a bartender in your late 40s or 50s who’s been doing it for years and years. It’s quite another to be you. Let me count just a few of the ways.1.) You’re soft. (I emailed Frank. He’s in software.) Unless you’ve come from being a carpenter or equivalent field of manual labor, your hands, back, feet, and brain have traveled a path in life that makes them heretofore and always unsuitable for the rough stuff. Going from sitting on your ass all day to endlessly pacing a 60-foot-square space, hauling cases and kegs of beer, and never knowing your two tens and a thirty again hurts. It’s not just about that fancy lad “bar chef” shit (or whatever they’re calling themselves this week to feel less insecure about being a bartender). Unless you’re in killer shape, the work will break you.2.) You’re not a vampire. I really wouldn’t recommend fucking with your circadian rhythms at this point in life, Frank. I’m still messed up from 15 years behind the bar. Maybe you’re at that age where you sleep less and less, but are you prepared to go to work when everyone else you know is just hitting the quitting bell? Are you prepared to get home at 3:00am, needing to wind down before you go to sleep? This is far different than staying up late playing X-Box.3.) You’re probably untrainable. Can you handle taking orders from someone much younger than you? Can you take it when someone yells at you or gives you a very blunt direction (from management and customers)? Doesn’t matter that you’re old in this field, you’ll start at the bottom like everyone else. Starting as a bartender means starting as a barback, which is worse than if you wanted to join the Army right now and take the same basic training as a bunch of 20-year-olds.If you wanted a day bar or early evening shift in a neighborhood tavern, I wouldn’t be opposed to hiring you. It would have to be a shot-and-a-beer type bar, and you’d have to be personality freakin’ plus. Forgive me for saying so, but that personality also grows over time. It comes from being comfortable with your station. There’s a certain bedside manner that comes with being a bartender. It’s the reason I can’t stand some of these nouveau bar boys; they only concentrate on half the job. The other half, dealing with people, is the hardest skill to develop and keep, and the most grueling part of the profession. Sometimes you’re seeing people at their best, but just as often at their worst.If you really want to be a bartender, start first in the neighborhood bars in which you hang and ask if they need any daytime help. I hope you have some money saved because you won’t be making any major scratch for a long time. Get the visions of working the hip cocktail lounge out of your head. That’s where you really want to go with this fantasy, don’t you? You probably hang out at Zig Zag and fantasize about what it must be like to be Murray. Well, you aren’t. You never will be. You will also never be a ballerina or a fireman because it’s too late.Before you get angry with me for sounding ageist, I’m in my mid-30s. I began bartending before I was legally able. Even if I wanted to get back in the game full time, Frank, I’d have it rough. Plus, I hate the thought of ever having bar rot on my poor hands again, hands which have taken me the last few years to make look like something that belonged to a female. Do you know about bar rot, Frank? It’s hideous.Got a question for the bartender? Email me at msavarino@seattleweekly.com.