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Friday, October 8th, 2004
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4:19 pm - Bouncer stories?
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theaggregator
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Hey Gang.
November is approaching, and this year I will be attacking a new novel (I write 50,000 word novels in 30 Days as part of a challenge. Ask me about it if you want to know more).
And after years of working security, and bugging some of you for your on the job stories, I’m finally sitting down to write “The Great American Security” novel in earnest.
Wanna help?
Send me a good story or two.
Oh, I’ll still probably show up at your work to bug you for free beer and to see if you’ve got anything to say, but just in case, I thought I’d ask this way too. Especially if you can’t get me free beer you bastard.
Help.
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(comment on this)
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| Monday, July 12th, 2004
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11:15 am - Gin and Patronic
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inkbot
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On Saturday night this guy ordered a gin and tonic, typical enough. When I asked him what kind of gin he wanted, he replied, "Patron." I had an inside laugh attack but managed to keep it together long enough to say, "Um, Patron is tequila.... Do you want Bombay...Tanqueray...(a dictionary...)?
Tee hee hee,
Barbot
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(5 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, June 3rd, 2004
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2:10 am - Affliction
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mysterc
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at DNA on Thursday. I will be practicing my bartending skills.
13 hours of sheer unalduterated boredom on Tuesday's Video shoot. How many times can you explain to an actor in a low budget indie film that just cause hes an "actor" doesn't mean he gets to bring in his own liquor from outside. Then, after he snuck it in later, he had the audacity to ask me where I put his six pack of beer?
(I had very stealthily, no small task at 6'6" 300lbs, followed him into the club until he put his bag down, then I took the beer and trashed it.)
"I'm sorry sir, I thought I made it very clear that you could not bring outside containers into the club. You assured me that you would put the six-pack in your car. Are you now telling me that you lied and brought that same six pack into the establishment after I specifically asked you not to?"
"Uhhhhhhh..... never mind"
Shouldn't an actor be able to lie convincingly on the spot?
current mood: calm
current music: Luther Vandross- I thought about you
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(6 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, May 6th, 2004
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5:49 am
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| Monday, May 3rd, 2004
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11:17 am
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_uriel_
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Tale from Lift on Saturday.
(That's Asian Party Puke fest, for those not in-the-know...)
I was Bar-Backing that night, finally getting to shine at the main bar (which I did, evidently,according to the Bartenders).While I am a Floor_Gnome,I was technically a Barback Gnome Saturday night.
***Highlights from the Night***
Alexis (Bartender) points at a girl hanging over a garbage can and says 'She needs to go,Ron!' I rush ot the back door, tell the Back-Door-Troll to call bacongnome/mattgnome that we have a 'situation' at the main bar/atm garbage can and proceed to look for a Troll for an escort.
Myster-C-Troll walks out, I (reluctantly, since he is one of my fave trolls, but werk is werk) ask if he is busy. He says that he was about to give the Front-Door-Troll (Rex-Troll)a break, but What-do-I-need? I tell him the we have a puker and she needs to go out.
Myster-C-Troll frowns and sighs an 'ok'.
Just then, Jungar-Troll exits, smiley and asks 'What's wrong?' Since I am usually busy whirling like a blue-haired Dervish behind the bar at Lift, slinging beer and pouring Hennessey into silly folks with no ragard for booze to body weight ratios as oppossed to being outside with 2 security guards listening to a story, Jungar had made the obvious assumption that there was a problem.. I say 'we have a puker, main bar'. Jungar says 'Oh, I'm on it, show me where she is'. (It's never a he at Lift...NEVER).
Myster-C-Troll smiles and says 'Cool, I was about to give Rex(troll) a break anyways.'
Jungar-Troll was pretty anxious to get her out, as he has done the gnome thing himself in the past and away he went.
Back inside, I tell Alexis that there are Gnomes and trolls on the way.
Jungar arrives, guided by my flashlight from the inside of the Bar-Battlements. It looked as if the girl (and her 3 equally drunk friends) were arguing a bit, but he got them out and the Gnomes went to werk on the mess.
*********************************************************************************
Other than the main bar, I also backed for the Satellite bar, or (as I prefer to call it), the Belly-Gunner. Like it's namesake from WWII era planes, the Belly-Gunner position isn't a highly desired one, being cut off from the main supply lines and all (It is a small bar that we construct just for Lift). The Belly-Gunner for the evening was a bar-Elf named Fionne (I am probably getting his name's spelling wrong)and he enlightened me on a point that all Gnomes who work Lift should know...
The Horrible Secret...
It seems that Fionne talked to some customers about why they slam so much booze and he was told that there is a game in asian club-goer circles where a group of asian girls have a contest to see who can drink the most Remy shots without puking...
:|
I'm not sure what sort of prize one wins by doing this, but the Gnomes have officially declared War. Look out Pukey-Asian-Girls...we will defeat you!!!
(Buy War-Bonds today!!!)
Fionne had a fight at his bar, with drunk idiots slamming each other around, though the trolls responded quickly and got the fools outside.There was protest, but to no avail.
Really folks...the average size of a Lift patron is around 100 pounds for the girls and maybe 150-160 for the guys, if that. We now have a Samoan, a Tongan, 2 very large gentlemen of an african american descent and some big white boys as well.
A very cosmopolitan group of Gentelmen-Trolls, all-in-all.
Do not make them angry...
************************************************************************************
Alexis surmised that he was responsible for 3 of the pukings, while one of my other bartenders (Chris) had one confirmed, although she told him that she made it to the bathroom (as if we want folka coming to the bar and telling us such things...)
*************************************************************************************
I was running from upstairs (with a quartet of Hennessey bottles, since the barbarians had drank the dozen that were at my bar) and I stepped out and SLID in something wet and smelling of acrid garlic...Now, I don't need to tell you what it was.
Well, maybe I do...it was something like a 10' vomit slick. bacongnome was near and we tracked down the culprit (Suprise, a little asian girl puking on the floor, trying to get to a garbage can. When I left, they were all pleading with Bacongnome and a troll. Bacongnoe did not look amused, and he is a very 0-Tolerence Gnome when it comes to tossing pukeygirls. She was ejected, forthwith, I assume (I ran off back to my bar...).
OK, Get ready, for the take if the 2 Gnomes is surely coming soon.
Teaser: What is warm, stinky and sometimes drips off of a balcony onto 2 unsuspecting Gnomes...
In other news:I Gained a Level in Bar-Back-Gnome. I am now a Level 4 Bar-Back-Gnome! Woohoo for me!
current music: Scooby Doo on the TeeVee...
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, April 30th, 2004
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5:06 pm - Ron here, Bar-Back Story,Star Date 23543-5.
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_uriel_
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We were battling the unwashed masses last night at the Genitorturers show, and one of band members from the opening act (or some other tattoo-covered, pierced metal-ish guy who looked just like him) approached the bar.
Shawn (the closest Bartender)was busy, so I asked what the guy wanted.
The exchange went something like this...
Me:What'll ya have?
Guy:Sierra...and a Jose Cuervo...Naked.
Me: :|
Me:O, Sierra pale ale and a cuervo.
Guy:Jose Cuervo...Naked.
Me: :|
(I turn to Shawn, who is finishing up with the other customer)
Me:Shawn, this guy wants a jose Cuervo...naked. What does that mean?
Shawn: I dunno...
(Shawn walks over to guy)
Shawn:Whatilyehave?
Guy:Sierra (I had poured this at this point)...and a Jose Cuervo Naked.
Shawn: :|
Me: :|
Shawn:Naked? What's that mean?
Guy:In a shot glass.
(As oppossed to....er :| )
Shawn gets him the drink.
throughout the night, that guy would return 5, maybe 6 times and order the same thing. Even though we knew what he wanted, we kept asking him 'Whatilyehave? just to hear him ask for a Jose Cuervo-Naked. I told Shawn that I wanted to run back and get some paper to make a little dress for the shotglass, since don't think that we can have full nudity with booze (ESPECIALLY fully naked booze...what kind of place does that guy think this is!?!).
It was pretty funny to see Shawn's stone 'game face' when asking the guy, only to have him break into snickers when he turned around to get the Jose. The guy didn't even think it odd that two guys were getting his Cuervo, though he might have caught a glimpse of us snickering.
It reminded me of Angela's guy who kept asking for 'Grey Goose & Vodka' instead of & cran.
current music: the sound of the cat meowing...
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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12:55 pm - changes afoot
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rzr_grl
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Okay, clearly I'm not holding up my end of the bargain here.
To that end, I am going to open posting on B_R_B to the unwashed masses (that's you!). While I'd love this to stay oriented toward the staff experience - particularly bartenders' - I think anything bar-related goes.
I'll stay on as moderator, and if it totally descends into suckville I'll change it back, or figure out something else.
OK - go!
current mood: what the hell!
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(7 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, April 10th, 2004
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7:27 pm - wherein i display my ignorance and lack of respect of modern pr0n
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rzr_grl
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(enter white guy, medium height, short dark gelled hair, white shirt partially unbuttoned; just the kind of GQ attractiveness that completely fails to interest me.)
him: I'll have a bottle of water.
me: Three dollars please.
him: I work for Vivid.
me: ... okay...?
him: Vivid Video?
me: ...
him: You don't know what Vivid Video is??
me: Nope.
him: We do porn!
me: ... okay...?
him: (stares)
me: Three dollars please.
him: (stares)
me: (raises eyebrow, translates to, "well?")
him: YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.
me: (adds scowl to eyebrow, translates to, "what the fuck is wrong with you?")
him: I WORK FOR VIVID AND YOU'RE GOING TO CHARGE ME FOR THIS WATER?!?
me: I really couldn't care less that you work for a porn company, mister.
him: WELL, FORGET IT THEN!
(exit white guy. four feet along the bar, stops in front of two girls)
him: I work for Vivid!
girls: Oooh!
him: That bartender tried to charge me for my water! Can you believe that?
Of course I only later thought of all kinds of smart-ass fluffer comments. Next time.
current music: depressed commode - never let me down again - 101
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(9 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, March 28th, 2004
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3:45 am
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rzr_grl
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I've decided this job needs an air-traffic control type schedule, on a larger scale. Too bad about that "no paid vacation."
But how can I hate on my job when customers bring me gifts? Tonite I got a shirt from one of my regulars and a CD from the DJ. The shirt says "Bored to death" and is a skull and crossbones made of a crossword puzzle. Perfect! He said, "I saw this and thought of you standing there at 4:30 a.m. on Friday night..."
I got the CD in exchange for totally annihilating the DJ with Johnny Walker. In fact, he was supposed to do the last set and couldn't do it! This may be my new strategy for going home early.
Check out this awsome track list:
P.M. Dawn
Milli Vanilli Medley
Jade
Color Me Badd...
Milli Vanilli Medley is going to be so awesome, I can't wait.
current mood: calm
current music: Black Flag - Loose Nut - Wasted Again
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(comment on this)
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| Sunday, February 15th, 2004
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2:22 pm - VD fun
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rzr_grl
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When the room is slow, it's a bad time to be a lame customer. Not only am I feeling ornery and bitter, but I also have the time and opportunity to remember you inbetween visits. Just a tip (ha ha).
Tweaker guy and his girlfriend have ordered several drinks, no tips. The next time the girl comes up, I say to the boss, "watch me short-pour this girl!" She orders a double -- even better. She frowns at my pour, but manages to cough up a dollar this time. Another successful lesson on cause-and-effect. I watch her walk back over to the boyfriend, where they have a lengthy conversation. In a moment he walks up to the bar where I'm still talking to the boss.
"Hey, will you put more rum in this?"
"No."
"But, it's really weak!"
"Hmm. And why might that be?"
"......what?"
"I said, why might that drink be weak?"
"What, didn't she tip?"
"She did this time..."
"Oh, well, I know how important it is to tip [yeah, now you do!], so how about I fix that tip and you put more rum in here?"
"Deal!"
He handed me a $5. I didn't ask if he wanted change. He only ordered bottles of beer for the rest of the night, but each time wanted to explain to me again that he knew he was supposed to tip. And he did... every now and then. But hey, by that time it was funny.
Girl orders a $5 drink, pays with a $20. Because I am smart, I always give five ones and a ten as change in that situation. As I'm moving on to the customer beside her, she frowns at her money, waves the five ones at me and snottily says, "Can I have a FIVE DOLLAR BILL?" After a quick glance to confirm that she doesn't have her wallet out with an independent stack of ones, I just look at her like you must be joking. Again I try to help the next guy, and again she interrupts me. "Uh, yeah, in a minute." The guy orders, she asks *again!* I roll my eyes in my best 14-year-old impression and bark "here!" at her while tossing the $5 on the bar. As I'm pouring the guy's beer, I hear her whining, "What's her problem?" He helpfully responds, "Well, you're supposed to tip for every drink." "I can't afford THAT!" she announces, and stomps away. I turn, hand him his beer, and he says, "I told her she was supposed to tip..." So I explained to him, "You know, it isn't really that she didn't tip. I mean, that sucks, but whatever. Sometimes people don't. But having five $1 bills was such a major inconvience that she had to pester me to give her a five, thus pointing out the fact that she had no intention of tipping me? That's just fucking TACKY." "Oh yeah, I guess so... and she made you do more work!" So, she'll go off and whine about what I bitch I was, but at least I educated the next one by example.
I don't know if it was VDay or what, but last night the lounge was the "house" room in the strip club. One guy sitting on the benches had a girl grinding on his lap for, oh, probably at least an hour and a half. When they finally had to get up because the room was closing at 4 AM, he was buttoning his pants while she tried to bribe us with "a really good tip" to sell them more alcohol. In addition, there was a couple in the middle of the aisleway. She was wearing a black dress so short that her crotch was always showing, but it didn't matter because he just lifted her dress over her shoulders and stuck his hand down her undies in front of everyone anyway. Classy!
I've been trying to figure out why so many people mumble into their hands when ordering. I've finally decided it's not because they're politely trying not to spit on me, it's because they're conditioned by shouting into their cell phones.
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(26 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, February 9th, 2004
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6:24 pm - your turn
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rzr_grl
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Here it is! The one you've been waiting for!
After all my bitching, it's time for you to sound off. What do you hate when you go to a bar? I'm looking for anti-establishment rants here, but complaints against your fellow patrons are also acceptable.
Pls discuss.
current mood: slothic
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(33 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, January 26th, 2004
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11:49 pm - a related occurance
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rzr_grl
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Another frequent exchange; more amusing, less infuriating.
"What can I getcha?"
"Absolut vodka"
"...and?"
"Absolut vodka"
"Uh, Absolut is vodka"
"Yeah"
"...Soooo, you want a shot of Absolut, then?"
"No! Absolut and vodka!"
[repeat as necessary for individual's level of intoxication]
The funny thing about this is, almost without exception what they actually want is an Absolut Red Bull. I don't know what it is about Red Bull that translates to "vodka" (clear and nasty?), but this happens with alarming frequency. I'd guess it happens almost 20% of the time they ask for a call vodka with Red Bull.
current mood: procrastinatory
current music: Broken (Babel-17) - Diverje - Amphibian disc 2
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(14 comments | comment on this)
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4:29 pm - a perfect example of why i'm so anal about "little details"
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rzr_grl
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The correct way to order a mixed drink is by alcohol, then mixer. "Stoli cran." "Jack and ginger." "Gin and tonic." It's one of those bar rules that many people get right by instinct, but the ones who don't seem to have a cellular-level bias against it. It seems to happen most often in two instances: "Cranberry vodka" and "Red Bull vodka."
Cranberry vodka.
Meditate on that a moment. What does that mean to you? It means, "cranberry flavored vodka," as in "vanilla stoli and coke" or "mandarin 7-up," right?
Last week, we got a shipment of cranberry flavored Stoli. It was the special for the night.
MY GOD, what a fucking nightmare. A hundred thousand iterations of:
"What can I getcha?"
"Cranberry vodka"
"You mean vodka cran?"
"Cranberry vodka"
"Do you mean you want the cranberry flavored vodka(point to sign and/or show them the bottle), or you want a vodka cran?"
(looks at me like I'm a fucking idiot) "Cranberry vodka!"
For about half the night I just rolled my eyes and did the translation, pouring them a vodka cran. Then I just couldn't take it anymore and poured them shots of "cranberry vodka" - but on the rocks in the appropriate cup in anticipation of the next move in our little dance: "There's no cranberry juice in this!" That's right, thickskull, there's not. "Oh, see, I asked you several times if you wanted a vodka cran, and you said no, you wanted a cranberry vodka. This is a cranberry vodka. But I can put cranberry juice in it if you'd like."
Don't get me wrong, I don't believe I actually educated anyone with that little exchange. Yet, ever the optimist, I hope against hope that a little progress was made. One guy who witnessed all this transpire said, "I'd like the special please!" He got it for free. Thank you for being observant!
current music: Hate Dept. - California - Ditch
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(17 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, January 11th, 2004
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11:16 pm - "The Cask of Armadillo"
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inkbot
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Okay, I don't always know what I'm talking about; this we know. But if I'm ordering a drink, man, I at least know how to *pronounce* it. On Friday night a girl ordered, get this, an ARMADILLO SOUR! I'm laughing right now even typing about it, and I did that can’t-breathe-due-to-laughter-weeping thing into my coffee recalling the tale at Boogaloo’s today. (Wait, is that possessive or plural? Boogaloos? Boogaloo’s? M’kay, I’m a biggaloser for not knowing.) What’s even funnier is that she didn’t even exactly utter *armadillo*. It was more like, “Can I have an Armbandanadillo Sour?” Of course she meant to order an Amaretto Sour. I think. Well, that’s what she got anyway.
Then again, who’m I to poke fun? I’m the English major who for years could never accurately recall the title of Poe’s tale “The Cask of Amontillado.” I always called it “The Cask of Amontadillo.” I’m sure my current snobbery will, no doubt, result in some well-timed karma whereupon I refer to it as “The Cask of Armadillo” in front of, you know, Neil Gaiman.
Somebody get me a shot of turquoise with a coat back already!
Char out.
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(23 comments | comment on this)
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5:36 pm - laundry list of fun
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rzr_grl
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Ugh. We closed at 7:15 AM this morning. I'd been taking extraordinary measures to avoid working the late shift for this party each month, but my number finally came up and I needed the money something awful. At the time it wasn't so bad - each time the aching in my feet overwhelmed me, I counted my tips again. I actually ended the night feeling fairly chipper, wondering why I'd grown to hate the late shift as much as I had.
Well, now I remember. Christ, I feel like shit on a stick. Someone has stuffed my head full of cotton and pain. I should've been back at the club for tonite's event a couple of hours ago, but i just can't make myself return yet.
The crowd for last night's party is always strange; 75% cheap annoying mutherfuckers (many of whom smell), 20% normal folks, 5% really, notably good tippers. The problem is, I have ZERO facial-recognition skills. I'm trying really hard to improve this, but in the meantime it means every person I recognize in a night I struggle to know if I remember them because they were especially good, or especially horrible. For this party in particular, I am very much opposed to accidently rewarding awful behaviour by comping or discounting a drink - meaning I know I'm overlooking those who do deserve a little positive recognition.
Case in point: I'm reasonably busy selling water and Red Bulls when a familiar-looking guy orders a water. I take a guess, and wave him away without paying. He of course does not tip. "Oops, that was an error," I think. About an hour later, he comes back. "Hey, you didn't charge me for my water." "You are correct, I did not." "So, does that mean I should ask for your phone number?"
And while we're on that subject, I encountered a new strategy last night. A guy who wasn't getting anywhere flirting with me himself recruited his girlfriend to tag-team hit on me! Novel, but no.
Two unrelated people were kicked out for stealing money off the bar. Fellow bartender C went after the first guy for a little "discussion" (C can be a very intimidating fellow - lean but mean and more than a little insane-looking). He spoke of respect, and mentioned the fact that he was working his ass off to support his 18 month old daughter. The guy's response, "Hey man, I raise a kid too!" Great, that's just swell. Glad you're passing on those fantastic family values.
One girl was so stoned, she mistook the barback - who was behind the bar at the time - for her friend. Also, her face was in some nonstop flux of facial contortion. Pretty entertaining, really.
My last item is this: On Friday, some fucktard stuck his gum to my barmat. Man, I love people.
current mood: very slow, medium thick
current music: Bow Wow Wow - Chuhuahua (12" version)
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(5 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, January 9th, 2004
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2:30 pm - i'm *pissing* people off: i guess i'm a *real* bartender now.
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inkbot
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so, i got my first complaint. some girl who wouldn't let me cut in line to use the bathroom said i shoved her on new year's eve. me?! but, captain, i'm a bartender, not a shover! like i need to shove anyone when i'm this cute. ;)
the reason she lied is because after she took a poll verifying that nobody minded if i went next, she stormed past and ducked in next anyway. she was so rude that when she came out, i told her not to come to my bar that night. i mean, the whole reason she had to pee was because of us--bartenders! we shouldn't even need to ask, but i always do. i would never assume or insist. her attitude left so much to be desired, though, that i figured she could patronize one of the other 3 bars available that night. (she was certainly done patronizing me...)
so, of course, instead of getting security on the spot (like anyone would do if there was a REAL PROBLEM), she waits a week and then complains via email. classy. obviously, i nearly had her pinned to the ground with my death grip. clearly, i'd violated her civil rights. sigh. she didn't give me the chance as there was nothing *civil* about her.
oh well, my friends and colleagues supported me to the higher- ups, which means a lot to me. thanks.
i'm *pissing* people off: i guess i'm a *real* bartender now.
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(8 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, December 6th, 2003
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6:08 am - a tale of two...
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rzr_grl
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The usual assortment of freaks and creeps tonite, of which two qualify as noteworthy:
The first is a regular on our friday nights. He's extraordinarily normal looking, in that generic frat-boy way; medium height, short dark hair, dress is closer to "business casual" than "nightclubbing schmuck," conventionally good-looking. I first noticed him because he tended to tip really well on stuff like water and red bull. There's a vague trigger that sets good tippers to one side (nice/sympathetic person) or the other (wants something), and he had that "wants something" air to him. My suspicions were confirmed one night when he says to me, "Where's [other bartender]? Man, I want fuck that chick in the ass!" Er, okay - overshare violation Tonite, he grabs my hand under pretense of shaking it in greeting, and won't let go. He asks if I'm single. I most emphatically say no. One of our newish female security guards walks up just at that time, and he turns to her and says "Are you single?" Really, really extra creepy.
My second little story actually made me all happy. Random guy orders a water. He starts to hand me a $20 bill, then withdraws it and hands me a different $20 bill. Because I have no poker face, I'm staring at him with a clear look of confusion. He looks all embarassed, and mumbles, "I really like these new ones." It was terribly endearing.
(I like the new ones too; they're all clean and crispy and weird-looking... even if they do stick together maddeningly.)
Oh also: I didn't think it was possible, but the music was extra-bad tonite. Nothing makes a crappy house song better than a Kenny G sax solo! Yeah! The barback said, "This music is so easy-listening, it's practically a laxative."
current mood: tired
current music: Cabaret Voltaire - Just Fascination - Conform to Deform
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(5 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, December 2nd, 2003
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12:35 am - found object, in the general spirit of things...
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rzr_grl
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From craigslist.org:
Way to go Pretzel boy!
Reply to: anon-19852681@craigslist.org
Date: Mon Nov 24 13:17:18 2003
Beleive me I know. I have a shitty job. I roll pretzels for 7.40 an hour in the mall. I wear a stupid hat and a stupid fucking shirt and a stupid fucking apron. I get to see myself in the mirror in back before I start my shift and I am reminded each time of how shitty my job is and how pathetic I feel. I therefore do not need any of the following from you:
I don't need you to ask me if I went to school to learn how to twist the pretzel dough. Don't be a fucking idiot. Everytime you think you are impressing the little whore by your side with her eyes on your credit card by saying "So did you go to pretzel school to learn that?" I want to smash your face into the god damn glass pretzel warmer.
An appropriate response to "Hello, How are you today?" is not to bark "Do you sell ice cream?" Look at the picture on my fucking apron, asshole. Does it look like fucking ice cream, or a hot dog, or a fucking smoothie? It's funny shaped bread you dick. Read the motherfucking sign.
And would it fucking kill you to say hello as if I were an actuall human being?
I do not have leprosey. I am the one who just rolled your god damn pretzel. There is no need to ignore my outstreached hand and throw your money on the counter. I only want to drown you in the melted fucking butter when you do that shit.
You do not deserve a free pretzel, I don't care how fucking great you are.
The lemonade says fresh sqeezed. That means we squeeze the god damn lemons. Hundreds of the fuckers. Just so we can put up that sign. If I tell you that we squeeze them, plese don't say "really?" like I am going to bother lying to you. Like I give a flying fuck if you buy a god damn lemonade or not.
And I really really appreciate it when I acidentally burn myself on the 600 degree oven and while watching my flesh bubble up and turn bright white I get to hear your cock-smoking ass yell "Way to go, Pretzel Boy!" because I dropped the god damn baking sheet that just killed every nerve in my right hand and you think its funny.
I don't come to where you work and smack the cock out of your mouth.
I swear to Christ the next fucker to call me Pretzel Boy is getting a cinnamon-sugar enema.
current music: shriekback - going equipped
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| Sunday, November 23rd, 2003
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1:45 pm - "These aren't my pants!"
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rzr_grl
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Got to have some asshat tossed out Friday night. It's like, 4am (which, for you non-Californians, is so far from last call that the hangover is already at the door). He tosses his jacket on the bar while he turns to talk to his friends, which irritates me but isn't really a yellable offense. Fifteen minutes later, he picks his jacket up, and *CLINK! CLINK CLINK!* Two bottles of Budweiser roll out onto the bartop. Oops! Despite the fact that he's 6'2" and 300lbs, I grab both bottles in one hand and his arm in the other. This, after screaming "OH MY GOD!" at him, of course. There's no security in sight, so I turn to one of our late-night regulars and say, "get me security!" He looks at me like I'm speaking in tounges. "This guy's gotta go - please get me security!" He's still standing there looking confused, until I shout "Go!" at him. Finally he cautiously edges toward the door, but stops when the asshat starts in with the "Dude! Dude!" Eternities later, he goes for security. One responds almost immediately, but not before asshat launches into his defense.
"C'mon! I just paid $20 to get in!"
"I wasn't drinking them!"
"But I just paid $40 to get in!"
"Somebody put those in my jacket!"
Unfortunately, the security that responds is a newbie, and is slightly less helpful than the regular I sent to get him. He stares at me dumbly while I show him the Budweiser (which we don't even sell, nevermind the fact that it's 2 hours past last call). I outline it for him. "This guy I'm hanging on to with one hand brought these beers I have in my other hand - he HAS TO GO." This almost works, until the asshat starts his defense again, and newbie turns to listen. Before I have a chance to yell, "OMG, get the fucker outta here already!" the entire rest of the security staff shows up at my bar. I have only to hold up the bottles to J, the security manager, and the asshat quickly disappears outside. Thank god. That only took about 5 minutes. :\
I know I've had some other real gems lately, but apparently my subconsious is blocking them out for me. How nice of it!
current music: High Blue Star
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| Wednesday, November 12th, 2003
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4:53 pm - Shattered
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inkbot
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Okay, last Friday night was the scene of much drinkma. I arrived at 7:45pm for my shift with the expectation that I’d make about $100, which is good since I was down to a tenner… It turned out the event I was scheduled to ‘tend was a wedding reception in the back room. They were nice if a bit yuppie burning man(esqueish). Folks weren’t s’posed to arrive until 9pm, but by 8:15pm they were lined up and ready to drink. I had to set up my own bar since 3 bars were sharing our 1 bar back. Poor guy…
Then I learned the news that changed everything in the form of two, little words: Open Bar.
This is good and bad. Good because people who don’t have to pay for drinks have money to tip (unless drink tickets are involved, in which case people become ultra stingy, get their free drink and don’t tip! This topic could be a whole post in itself.). Bad because, well, free drinks make people very *thirsty* (read greedy).
The drama started right away in the form of guests helping themselves to my bar every time I had to leave the room to get the necessary accoutrements (garnishes, triple sec, whiskey, the usual weapons of mass disdrunktion…). That annoys me eternally. Sure, the booze was technically theirs, but I’m the bartender, and as far as I’m concerned, no one gets a drop till I’m ready. All night the help-themselvers were pissing me off. I finally moved my garnish tray underneath because so many people were reaching over and grabbing my limes. It wouldn’t be a big deal except that I knew more limes weren’t coming. I had to make do with I had. It’s not a lime free-for-all, people!!! I try to be sensitive to this when I’m at other tenders’ bars and always ask when needing more citrus. Grabbing is just annoying in general. Okay, then there was the guy who would help himself to the wine every time I had to go get something. I finally told him to stop, but really, how can you not know that’s rude?! The whole point is to make people get in line, so you make their drink, so they tip you. Otherwise, just get a giant bucket, have everyone help themselves, and don’t hire a friggin’ bartender!
The first hour sucked tipwise before I sent out the eye daggers that everyone needed to go get their damn wallet out of their coat and pony up! Okay, maybe it was just until Kit posted the happy tip signs… Also, you can pretty much count on the fact that the drunker people get, the more they tip, at least at open bars… “Is that a $5?” “Um, no, that’s a $20, but that’ll be just fine…” :)
The night was nonstop. Well, it stopped briefly at about midnight when one of the glass tiers the alcohol is stored on SHATTERED everywhere. Thank god I had my back turned to it. I could've been sliced up a la Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas, which is only a good thing when you have a Jack Skellington around… I cut every finger on my main pouring hand, which is oh so joyful when there is citrus around to help you find every cut at 10-second intervals. I was entirely covered with tiny glass slivery shards. I’d just grab a beer and somehow nick myself. That really sucked. But, you know, people were still greedy, um, thirsty. I didn’t have time to really soak up what had just happened. I just got someone to bring me new ice, so I wasn’t serving up glass ice—and kept going. Only one person came over to ask if I was okay. One person! I thought that was nice of him.
Usually, you know, when I’m bored and have time to drink water and Coke all night, I have to pee about every hour. That night I didn’t even look up until last call, which was only in observance for about 5 minutes before the bar was reopened since it was a private party. I didn’t mind. Alcohol=money. Very few people tip for non-alc bevvies. So, around 3:30am, I finally got 30 seconds to pee before I was back doing the two-handed pour and multitasking my ass off—till 5am! I don’t usually have to work the uberlong shifts, so this was crazy for me. Nonstop till 5am? I don’t know how many drinks I served that night, but there must’ve been over 200 people there, and I was the only bartender. You do the math. (Always happy to pawn the math off on someone else…) It was so late that there was no one left to tell me when or if to go home. I stayed until folks started tearing down the decorations. Then I figured they could get their own damn cranberry juice…
All night the bride kept bringing up points in the contract that weren’t being met with me, as if I could do anything about it but pass on the information to someone else (more in charge). I mean, did she expect me—the lone ‘tender—to go to the store to get water, coke, JD? The manager said I should always just bluff in those situations, but I think what I said was fine. Better to say I’m going to pass on the info to the right person than blindly commit to something I don’t know if we can pull off. Plus, I’m a terrible liar. Better to hand it over to the better liars…
Several people came up to me, thanked me, and said how fast and friendly I’d been all night. That made me feel really good, like a real bartender. Tear...
I know I’m leaving something out, some interesting happenstance or funny occurrence. Oh well, you get the idea. It was busy. Things broke. People still got drunk. I got mucho tippery. Kitty got her meds. A new skirt was bought. It has straps. Now I just have to train the cat to not walk all over and knock all over post-tending piles whilst cashcountery is going on in the hallway.
Many thanks to Kit for the best, if stressful and bloody, shift I’ve had all year!
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