If you’ve spent any time at a local bar or restaurant, you’ve probably noticed something curious: there’s a small group of customers who seem to play by a different set of rules. They order off-menu, say things that would get anyone else kicked out, and somehow still get a warm hello, their drink poured before they sit down, and a laugh from the staff even after nearly crossing the line. They’re the regulars—and yes, they often get away with more than most customers.
To the uninitiated, this can be baffling. How and why does that guy get to act like that? Why is the bartender tolerating her interrupting service for the fifth time? Why didn’t the manager say something when the regular started loudly critiquing the new staff or leering at them lasciviously, even if the customer is old enough to be the newbie’s father? The answer isn’t always fair, but it’s pretty simple: time and money.
Regulars have history. They’ve spent years (or what feels like it) filling bar stools, filling the coffers, tipping decently, weathering the highs and lows of ownership changes, menu revisions, new staff rotations, and slow nights. They’ve seen it all—and for better or worse, they’ve become part of the place, like the neon beer sign still hanging on the wall, even though the brand was discontinued during the Reagan administration.
In many cases, they’ve earned that loyalty. They’ve supported the place during tough times, such as the non-tourist season, brought in friends, or even helped out in a pinch, like holding the door for the manager bringing in a cartload of booze, or fixing the TV reception. They may have been around longer than the current staff. Their presence is comforting to some and nostalgic to others. So when they bend a few rules, staff might look the other way—not because they want to, but because it’s not always worth the confrontation.
But here’s the thing: just because someone’s a regular doesn’t mean they get a free pass forever. There’s a big difference between being familiar and being entitled. When regulars start to believe the bar exists for them—and only them—things go downhill. They expect special treatment, monopolize staff attention, cut in line (figuratively or literally), and treat new customers as an intrusion or staff as if they managed them. And that’s when the good kind of regular becomes the bad kind, even leading to their expulsion for a set time because management realizes their attitude is bad for business, and a temporary banishment will teach them who really runs the place.
For new customers, this dynamic can be off-putting. It creates a feeling of “this isn’t your space.” And in hospitality, that’s poison. A good bar or restaurant should feel welcoming, not like you walked into someone else’s living room without an invitation. When the regulars run the show, the place becomes insular, cliquey, and closed off, making it harder for the place to increase revenues and draw new customers, and good reviews. It should be noted (sometimes verbally to the regulars) that they once walked into the place for the first time; strangers in a strange land.
For staff, managing this balancing act is delicate. Challenge a regular and you risk a scene, a bad Yelp review, or a regular who tells everyone “This place is going downhill fast,” even when it isn’t. However, enabling bad behavior is just as risky. It drains good employees, creates uneven standards, and can drive away better-paying, more respectful customers.
The best regulars know the difference and understand that familiarity is a privilege, not a license to be careless. They lead by example, not ego. They respect the staff and make room for new faces, warmly welcoming them. They know what it was like to walk in for the first time and not know the unwritten rules. And they help preserve the vibe, not hijack it.
So, here’s to the regulars who don’t abuse their status and treat staff with respect and everyone like they are welcome. Being a regular is about what you give, such as your loyalty, patience, and, yes, your tips. As for the others? Maybe it’s time someone gently reminded them: no one is too important not to get cut off or tossed out, not just for the night, but permanently.
John Berkovich Talks 