Pop a top again
Last night was my first night as a bartender. It was pretty exciting. It was a Sunday night, which would perhaps, at most bars, mean that business would be slow, but this bar doesn’t seem to have much in common with other bars. I figured there was a decent enough chance that there would be some patrons come in, especially since the NFL playoffs were on. I even watched a bit of the afternoon game just so I would be able to talk intelligently about it at the bar. I figured I already had enough going against me since I didn’t have boobs and whatnot---if the locals discovered that I didn’t even like football, I would certainly not make many tips—at a minimum—and would probably be banished from the bar forever. So I watched part of the game.
I showed up for my shift and saw 2 cars in the parking lot. That is NOT a lot of people. There were 3 or 4 people in the bar, and all of them left with the bartender when she left. So I was left there alone. Before theother bartender left, she and another bartender who was just in there drinking both gave me a couple hints about things to do and things to not do. They were both really friendly and helpful, which was nice. And then they left, and for 40 minutes I sat there at the bar by myself. It sort of sucked. I was beginning to wonder how long I would work as a bartender. The pay would not be very good without tips, and I can’t say that I was having the most fun. There are TVs there, which is cool. And there was segment on 60 minutes about Kinky Friedman that I wanted to watch. EXCEPT, the football game was on at the same time as the 60 minutes special, and even though Kinky is Texan, on the remote chance that someone might come in, I didn’t want them to think that I’d rather watch 60 minutes than a football game. I’m a male living in TX. I love football dammit! So I put the football game on the tv above the bar, and put the tv way back in the back corner on 60 minutes, and when the Kinky segment came on I went over there and watched it. (I thinking about this job WAY too much. I realize this. But I have nothing else to do). After 60 minutes, I quickly changed the channel back to the football game and went back to being bored. I figured maybe I’d catch up on some long distance calls. Then I realized I had no one to talk to. I had just talked to my parents a couple days earlier and had nothing new to say. They’re still worried about this whole RV thing and can’t quit asking questions about it, and they’re not really happy about me being a bartender anyway. One time, some years ago, I mentioned that a bartender might be a fun job, and my dad went off on some rant about it, and how he couldn’t ever bea bartender because he couldn’t feel like he was aiding alcoholics in getting drinks and killing themselves. And since he felt that way, he assumed I felt the same way. And his feelings are pretty preposterous. I’m sure that if I weren’t a bartender, the alcoholic would then decide he didn’t need a drink afterall. He certainly wouldn’t just buy a drink from whatever other devils helper had sold his soul and taken a job slinging drinks. Nor would he ever buy a drink from a grocery store or liquor store. No, if my dad and I never became bartenders, then certainly all the alcoholics would cease drinking and would be better. Yeah…right. So I didn’t call my parents to tell them that I was on my first day on the job. I tried to call my sister, but she didn’t have anything to say as I’d just talked to her the day before. And I couldn’t think of anyone else that I had anything exactly pressing to talk about with, so I just sat there. Finally, 45 minutes into my shift, a car pulled up. It was 3 Mexicans. Only 1 of them spoke english. And she didn’t drink. The others drank Buds. For about 3 hours. And didn’t tip me once. Holy crap. It pissed me off. And every time I brought them 2 drinks, the total was the same: $3.50. And half the time they would only give me $3. And that started to get on my nerves, especially when I knew I wasn’t going to get a tip. The lady tried to talk with me a little, but we didn’t have a whole lot in common. She asked if I got bored, and I said yes. She asked if my friends were allowed to come in and visit. I said they were. She apparently used to have a job cleaning a mall and she had to clean it at night after they locked up, and she said she was often bored and scared, so she would bring her husband along with her other, but her employers found out and told her that wasn’t allowed so she quit. And her husband was now dead, and the new guy with her was her boyfriend. Her husband was an alcoholic and drank himself to death.
I was pissed that the only people there were the 3 people there. I would have rather had no one there honestly. If no one was there, I could have at least sat down and watched tv. Since there were paying customers, I felt like I should stand behind the bar, even though there was nothing to do.
Another customer came in, and that was cool. He actually used to be a bartender at the place. He drank a beer and talked about some good music, and left me a $2 tip on a $2 beer. Good guy.
And then he left, and it was just me and the Mexicans, but then the fun started. A couple friends of mine came in, and they brought some friends, and Mary came in, and some of the regulars came in, and all of a sudden it was a big party. My friends loaded up the jukebox with 25 songs. (For some reason, there’s no music in the bar unless someone plays the jukebox. A bar is quite quiet without music FYI). So the jukebox blared out lots of great classic country songs. A few of the locals were pissed about the selection and kept complaining and asking me to skip the songs. (There’s a cool little button on the wall behind the bar that you can push to skip any song on the jukebox that you want to. It’s pretty cool). But you don’t skip someone’s song if they’re still there. Unless they play it 3 times in a row or something. So some lady complained and I said that the people that picked it were still here. I liked the song anyway, so was glad to tell her no. Then she complained again, and I said the same thing. When “Achy breaky heart” came on, I did oblige her though, and skipped it. She requested one more skip, which I politely declined==again. And then her songs came on—her measily 4 songs, and she made me turn it up loud. Stupid rednecks. I don’t think I like the regulars.
There were only a couple in there last night actually, but none of them were particularly charming or pleasant in any way. Thre is one guy there who is nice enough and helpful enough, but is a total lush, and apparently feels like he needs some more friends because he talks to everybody. Mostly drunken ramblings, but at least he’s nice. He’s trying to help out mary and I, which is nice, but he tells us it over and over and over. And he always (and by always I mean both times we’ve worked) stays until long after last call, and instructs us on closing procedures. Truthfully, I’m nervous about the closing procedures b/c we only had 1 2 hour training, but he doesn’t really help that much, and it just makes me flustered as he’s messing up my routine. But…he’s not bad. Just a bit sad and creepy. He winks at mary apparently. The night she worked, she said by the end of the night he was so drunk that whenever he tried to drink both his eyes would close. Nice. But he does have some helpful hints, and is good to have around, and tips at least a litle bit.
There were a couple other regulars in there. The owner’s son lives in a little apartment that is attached to the bar. Every morning, you have to get the hidden spare key and enter his apt and get the money bag and the bar key. And every night you have to enter his apartment and put the money bag and key on the table in his living room. Its really bizarre and a bit creepy, and I’m not really comfortable doing it, and don’t really like Mary having to that either. The guy is totally creepy, and totally a jackass. He came in there last night, and I sort of knew who he was, and mary said hi, and he gave her a creepy hug. It was clear he had no idea who she was, but she reminded him. Then mary tried to introduce me to him, and the guy had absolutely no interest in meeting me. Didn’t even acknowledge me at all. Which made it a tad awkward when he was back behind the bar going through stuff. There’s not really a lot of space behind the bar, and we’re both back there not speaking. Jackass. But, at least he’s easy going. According to CR, the regular, he doesn’t care if you drink on the job, or if people smoke up in the back space outside the bar. So that’s cool I guess. I don’t know if I trust him though. He’ll probably try to get me in trouble just because he only wants girls working there. There was only one more regular of note there. He had long hair, and was okay, but gave me a hard time for about 30 minutes saying I was the ugliest bartender they’d ever had and whatnot. He wanted to know how I managed to get a job there. I told him mary and I were a package deal. He saw Mary. He said he understood it then. He gave me a $2 tip too, which made him ok in my book, even t hough he promised that the ribbing would get worse later on. Yippee. Whatever. Maybe it won’t now that he likes mary. Everyone likes mary.
The hardest part of being a bartender is not drinking on the job. Especially when all your friends are there. So I did drink a couple. CR the regular bought me a beer so I had to drink it. And I had some of mary’s. It’s also hard knowing when to cut people off. The mexicans were hammered, and I had decided I needed to cut them off. Fortunately they decided to leave before I had to do it, and fortunately the lady nondrinker drove them home.
I actually made a decent amount in tips, but that’s just because my friends came in and drank a bunch. If they weren’t there I would have only made $6 or $8 in tips. And that would have sucked. Last night certainly didn’t suck though. I don’t mind getting paid to play shuffleboard and to drink beer and watch tv and listen to classic country music. Hopefully all of my Sunday shifts will go that good. Somehow I doubt they will though. But you never know…
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