Tag Archives: bartending life

Tip #21 on Being a Good Bar Customer

28 Mar

Wow you guys. I haven’t written one of these since this one back in August of 2016, and that one included positive reinforcement. I know they were a popular part of my blog, but almost getting fired over writing them sort of took the shine off the whole thing, you know? Well, whatever. That was then and this is now. And I still don’t actually think I did anything wrong, as long as you don’t consider hurting the feelings of a couple of arrogant, misogynist assholes “something wrong.” I certainly don’t. So, that being said, let us continue.

So this post is a lot less about someone actually doing something awful and a lot more about one of my biggest pet peeves as a bartender. And it’s not just me! I did a (very limited) survey of some of the bartenders that I know and discovered that this is a pet peeve shared by all two of them! So I will extrapolate this data and apply it to all other bartenders and voila! I declare this pet peeve universally held. What is the pet peeve, you may ask? Let me tell you a little story.

So there I am, behind the bar. A new customer walks in. I greet him with a peppy(ish)

Hey! How are you?

as I reach over, grab a coaster and toss it in front of him. He replies that he is okay, takes his phone out of his pocket, puts it down, takes his seat and orders his drink. I make the drink, engaging in polite conversation as I do it. But then when I return to his seat and make a move to put his drink on the coaster that I have placed in front of him in preparation for this exact moment I realize it’s gone. But I swear that I put it there. I always put down a coaster. That’s part of the whole steps of service thing that I am so accustomed to. So where could it be? And then I see it: his phone. He has put it on the coaster. And I am immediately reminded of the hundreds and hundreds of times this exact scenario has played itself out over the past decade and change during which I have occupied space behind the stick.

And I am left wondering, why? Why do people do this? Do they have coasters on their coffee tables that they use as resting places for their phones while they watch TV, placing their beer or whisky on the rocks directly on the wood, potentially leaving a ring? Do they always have two coasters present, one for the phone and one for the drink, just so that their phone doesn’t some how feel less welcome? Do they enjoy constantly wiping up small puddles of condensation that has accumulated on their surfaces? Is this just a small expression of their concern for the environment, and their worry of our ever-expanding landfills and its effects on the planet that we call home? Am I missing something?

I am also left standing there with a prepared drink and no pre-placed (and available) coaster upon which to place it. What is a bartender to do? Well, there are a number of different possible next steps.

  1. Shrug your shoulders and place the drink directly on the bar;
  2. Grab a new coaster, toss it either casually or angrily next to the original coaster (this is entirely dependent on the bartender’s mood and/or the number of times she has faced this exact same scenario that shift), and place the drink atop its new throne;
  3. Reach down, grab the phone (AKA coaster stealer), move it and then place the drink down on the original coaster all while making eye contact with the customer;
  4. Place the drink on top of the phone which has now become the de facto coaster after its successful ouster of the previous coaster which was not fairly elected in the first place.

Personally, I oscillate between options 2 and 3. They are direct and instructive (two things I love being!) all without putting myself at risk of an accusation of destruction of property even though, really, putting your phone on the bar is pretty dumb.* One of the two people I surveyed for this post recently made use of option 4 and told me that although it didn’t go over that well in the moment (PSA: no phone was harmed in the placing of the drink) it is pretty funny in hindsight. He doesn’t, however, recommend that particular course of action for the faint of heart. So, I don’t know, maybe I will leave that for the blessed day that I work my last ever bartending shift. Which will probably never happen. Whatever, a girl can dream.

And, while I’m dreaming, you can journey around my blog and read all the previous tip as well as all the other random shit I write about. It’ll be fun (and sometimes infuriating). But mostly fun. I swear.

*I do it all the time.

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This is Me, Trying not to Give a Fuck About Assholes

21 Oct

I originally learned to bartend from a guy I used to date. He had just opened his own bar and had been in the game for awhile. I had done pretty much everything Front of House but bartend, save for pouring a few beers here and there. So there I was one night, having a glass of wine at his bar after coming back from a shift of my own in the West Village, when all of a sudden he got busy. I hopped back behind the bar to keep him ahead of the quickly mounting piles of dirty glasses and, while I was at it, I poured a few pints, giving him time to make all the carefully crafted cocktails he was known for. I decided right then and there that if I was going to continue in the service industry, I didn’t want to be anywhere but behind the bar. It felt safer, more in control and, dare I say it, a little bit cooler. So he started teaching me. He set me up with a speed-pourer equipped liquor bottle full of water, a jigger and a rocks glass and set me to work pouring out glass after glass of perfectly counted neat waters. He gave me a book of drink recipes and went through, X-ing out all the drinks he didn’t think I would ever have to know, and telling me to memorize the rest. He also gave me a piece of advice that I held on to, tightly, until, well, now. He said, and I am paraphrasing here, that bartenders are like a community, and it is each of our responsibilities to educate people how to behave, and how to tip, so that other bartenders don’t have to deal with the crap. But today, October 21, 2014, something like 7 years after I was initially given that advice, I am calling bullshit. Not on the community thing, or the fact that in some way or another many of us are in this together — we warn other neighborhood drink slingers about dickheads and problem customers, call each other when there’s an incident, send our friends good customers when they decide to drink in another bar. I am calling bullshit on the idea that a lot of people are open to learn how to be, well, human.

Here is the thing. I have a super strict standard of behavior for myself. When I deviate from the standard, I am sent into an incredibly intense moral hangover that involves long walks, sulking, ill-fantasies, maybe some tears, apologies and, on more than one occasion, the purchasing of small (admittedly unnecessary) gifts. I really don’t like to act like an asshole. It doesn’t agree with me. And I operate under this misconceived notion that other people also don’t like acting like assholes. Or, perhaps more specifically, that they shouldn’t like acting like assholes or, even more specifically, that they actually don’t think they are acting like assholes at all. They are just being themselves. But realistically sometimes “themselves” actually just means “assholes.” Did that make sense? The point is that some people are just dicks. They are dicks and they don’t care. Well, you know what? As of today, October 21, 2014, I no longer give a fuck.

So here’s the deal. My dad once told me, and this is one of my favorite pieces of advice, that we can only have expectations of people that are in keeping with what they have previously demonstrated is possible for them. Like, if someone is a liar all the time, we can’t expect them to just randomly start telling the truth and we can’t really be that mad at them when they behave the way that they have always behaved. They are doing what they always do, I am just placing my unreasonable, in context, expectations on them. So I get to make a choice. I can either be cool with the fact that they are a liar and deal with it to whatever extent is necessary, or I can get myself all bent out of shape about it. But then who’s the chump? Me. I’m the chump all bent out of shape about an entirely predictable situation. And I don’t like being a chump just about as much as I don’t like being an asshole. So now let’s put this in conversation with bartending.

I like to think that when I go into a bar and order a drink I am pretty polite. I sit in my stool, I take out my $20 and place it on the bar (especially if I don’t know the bartender), I know what I want to drink, I wait my turn, and then I ask for my drink, book ended with pleases and thank yous. I love please and thank you. I might make friendly conversation, I might just read a magazine. I rarely, if ever, tell people I bartend unless they ask (sometimes the 20 gives it away) because to me that just reeks of asking for buybacks which is something that polite people just do not do. In the process of drinking my drink, I do not rip up my coaster or stir up shit, and when I leave I tip. Plain and simple. I like to think that I am a good bar customer more often than not. I even think that if I were serving me a drink I would like me and I might even say to myself,

“Self, that girl drinking the Powers sure is polite.”

And there are plenty of people who drink in bars that are polite. Or at least well-behaved. Or maybe they just don’t offend me in any way. But then there are lots of people who just down right suck. They also seem to travel in packs. They are rude, demanding, condescending, sexist, messy and all sorts of other things. Bartenders can smell them when they walk in the door. I don’t know what it is about these people but you just know, from first sight, or first order, that they are assholes. And in the past, I would want to let them know they were assholes, to educate them, or to prove a point, but not any more. Because you know what? That is not my job. It is not my job, or really my right, to force my own moral compass, my own standards of behavior, on other people. They want to be dicks, to a point, then fine, let them be dicks. That’s cool. They want their drink strong? “Okay,” I’ll say with a smile, and I will make it the same way I always make it. They want less ice? That’s cool, they can just get more mixer. They want to wave their glass at me, snap their fingers, flash their cell phone screen? I won’t tell them they did anything wrong, I will just send them to the back of the line. They might think I’m a bitch. They are welcome to their own opinions. Because here is the thing:  I am doing this for the foreseeable future. Maybe not forever, but for now. And the name of the game is self-preservation. And you know what makes it easier? Not letting it in. (Also, the fact that the new bar I am working at comes staffed with security. At a certain point, shitty behavior actually stops being my problem and that is a luxury I am happy to accept.)

So all you people who are awesome? Come see me! It’ll be fun. And all you people who suck? I will gladly take your money. And I’ll turn all the negative energy into creative motivation for my book. Because, yea, I’m doing that.

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Please don’t ask me what else I do

24 Sep

Mostly, right now, I want to explode. I don’t actually know a more accurate way to put it. You know how sometimes you just go about life and realize that everything is just sort of, wrong? Or that you ended up somewhere entirely different than where you thought you would be? And then people say stuff like “oh, maybe that’s not so bad” but it is. It actually is so bad. So the other day at work this thing happened. So just to preface, I think maybe some of you people think I am really sensitive. I’m not, actually. I get mad about things but they don’t tend to penetrate through to anything, you know? Like, I get pissed off when people go through life acting like entitled little shits, but it doesn’t make me feel worse about myself, it just makes me feel a little worse about those people and the people who raised them. And also their friends who never call them out on their bullshit. Oh, and also the society in which we live that seems to think it is better to placate people because they have money than tell them that they suck at life. Because, obviously, money > respect.

Anyway, I can tell that I am in a spot when things people say to me at work actually get through. Generally what it is is some well-meaning person who just doesn’t get it. This is a perfect example. You wake up one morning and you have this HUGE zit on your forehead. Right in the middle of it. And you are aware of it and super self conscious and all that and you do whatever it is that you can to try to get it to go back to where it came from. You put on toothpaste to dry it out, some sort of zit cream, makeup. But nothing helps. It’s like a third eye. And you go out in the world and you know everyone sees it but there is nothing you can really do and then one person, one stupid person, is like

“hey, there’s something red on your forehead. Did you bump your head?!”

And you’re like

“no, motherfucker, that is just a HUGE GODDAMN ZIT THAT I AM INCREDIBLY AWARE OF BUT THANKS SO MUCH FOR POINTING IT OUT AND POINTING OUT THE FACT THAT IT IS BASICALLY LIKE I AM GROWING A NEW HEAD OUT OF MY ALREADY EXISTING ONE.”

and then you go home and cry and wonder why everyone is so mean.

That’s not what happened at work. What happened was the following. I was at work, you know, working, and this lady who has lived in the neighborhood who I have known in passing for a long time came in and ordered her drink and sat down right by the service station and the following conversation happened:

Actually, let me preface this real quick by saying that I have spent the better part of the past 5 months feeling like a waste of space. Okay, so keep that in mind.

Lady: So, are you done with school?

Me: Yup, graduated a year ago May.

Lady: what was the degree in again?

Me: Master’s in International Affairs.

Lady: So, are you working?

Me, standing behind the bar, I look around: Um…yes? Right now?

Lady: No, like, somewhere else.

Me: I work at another bar in Crown Heights.

Lady: But not in your field?!

Me: No.

Lady: Well, are you looking?

Me, wanting to scream MIND YOUR BUSINESS: No.

And then I stormed off and didn’t make eye contact again. It’s like, I know she meant well and was taking interest and couldn’t possibly know that the fact that I am doing nothing with my degree except paying it off is the equivalent, for me, of having a massive goose egg-sized zit on my forehead but still. It made me mad. So, a word to the wise, please don’t ask your service professional what “else they do” as if doing what they’re doing isn’t enough. For some people, it’s what they love and they have made a career out of it and that is fucking awesome. For many others, we are trying to figure it out and putting a lot of pressure on ourselves. Your questions, well-meaning or not, might not have the desired effect of making you seem interested in our lives. It sounds as if you think what we’re doing isn’t good enough. And the thing is, it is good enough. It just might not be our passion and that is something we are all trying to figure out and deal with. So, ask us how our day was, but please please please for the love of god, don’t ask what else we do.

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Doc Says…

20 May

Alright you guys, here’s the thing.  I am in a bit of a holding pattern at the moment which means that what is going on inside of my head right now is something akin to a hamster running round and round on her exercise wheel.  She isn’t getting anywhere, isn’t really doing anything, just sort of trying to pass the time in her little glass cage until she gets the opportunity to run around the room in one of those awesome plastic balls.  Remember those?  I had a hamster when I was little and I was always sort of afraid that one day I would put her in the ball and she would somehow escape my room and go rolling right down the stairs.  Then the ball would pop open right in front of my cat, Sassafras, and bye bye hamster.  Anyway, I digress.  It’s really not that bad.  The holding pattern, I mean.  I have been spending a lot of time in the garden with my mom and have been reading the New York Times from cover to cover almost everyday.  I am pretty up to speed on the Times view of the world and what they think is worthy of their precious space and what is not.  I read about El Nino today so that was sort of a blast from the past.

Anyway, none of this is to the point.  The point is that since I am in a holding pattern I have decided to publish a comment I got back in the day when all that bullshit was happening on my blog.  Remember all that bullshit?  Well, I sure do.  Anyway, I got the following comment (posted here in italics) on the post called “Rebekah vs. Rob, (Documented) Battle #2”  I have changed nothing about the comment, nor have I omitted anything, so any spelling or grammatical errors are not, for once, mine.  Just keep in mind that the non-italicized part is just me adding my trademark snark which I am sure that this individual, who calls himself “Doc,” would have a thing or two to say about.  If he hadn’t unfollowed my blog promptly after posting this comment that is.

I’ve been following your posts for a couple months now, since I was told there was a blog that detailed my local watering hole. I’m not a regular but I do come in with some frequency so it is fun for me to read the goings on and see if I can picture who it is you’re talking about. I must say I’ve noticed the tone of your posts has gotten very snarky and downright mean. Are you sure being a bartender is the right career for you? 🙂

I very much enjoyed his use of emoticon.  Nothing breaks up criticism like a good, old-fashioned smiley face!

Your recent post regarding “Hal” however has picqued my psychological background radar.

Ooh! Psychological background radar!  Do continue!  (Also, for the record, I have changed the alias “Hal” to the subject’s real name, Rob, after he sent me various mean emails from anonymous email accounts.  I figured if he wasn’t willing to put his name on his behavior, then I would.)

This is, if I’m reading correctly and if this person is who I think he is (and I’m fairly certain it is) now the 3rd post he’s been prominently featured in. I’m reminded of that old adage, “There’s a thin line between love and hate.” Your borderline obsession with this man leads me to believe that there is more to your feelings than blind hatred. Honestly, I think I know who he is, and he’s nowhere near as bad as you paint him to be.

Doc has got me there.  I think that Rob WAS featured in a fair amount of posts.  There was his appearance in Tip #12 after he snuck his own booze into the bar  and then there was the following visit when I told him I wouldn’t serve him and he stayed at the bar for hours afterwards, trying to get other people to buy him drinks, and also asking my coworker out when his fiance was sitting like 4 barstools down.  I can’t actually find the third one because I don’t keep an inventory of my blogs like some anonymous commenters seem to.

When he’s in the bar by himself or with one or two friends, I’ve had conversations with him and found him to be perfectly interesting and charming.

Here’s the thing that I have noticed about misogynists:  they tend to be perfectly nice-seeming to other men, who they view as their equals, but when it comes to their dealing with women it is a totally different ballgame.  I would like for “Doc” to be called a cunt, a word that I find extremely violent, by the same person on more than one occasion, and to have that person attempt to physically intimidate him at his workplace, and then tell me dude is “perfectly interesting and charming.”  Just sayin’.

I have seen him act loud and start chants etc., but usually only when he was with a large group of men, and really, isn’t that how most men in a large group at a bar act?

I hate to break it to you but no, that is not how most men in large groups in bars act.

He’s nowhere near the devil you make him out to be. And you lose all credibility when you say he’s unattractive. He is, objectively, a very good looking man.

Personally, I think that levels of attractiveness are more a subjective, than objective, thing.  For example, Adam Levine was voted People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive in 2013 and I sort of think he looks like a ferret.  And I do not like ferrets.  Also, what does my taste in men have to do with my credibility?  Nothing, that’s what.

In reading your posts about him, I notice the following keywords pop out at me when you’re writing of him: Wit, good looks, intellect, excellence, sexiest, awesome-est. All words used by you in your posts. Granted you’ll reply that this is how he thinks of himself, but it’s interesting how one’s psyche projects itself. Could it be that deep down you really have feelings for this man?

This, friends, is the result of pop-psychology 101.  I would very much like access to this person’s reading list.

This may be something you want to confront within, because otherwise your anger is irrational and concerns me.

I LOVE CONCERN TROLLING!

I’m sure that if you choose to reply you’ll merely launch into more vitriol, but to that I would merely reply, “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much” 🙂

Shakespeare quotes give everything validity! Also, emoticons!

And if he is who I think he is, wasn’t he involved with your good friend and boss for a while there? I could have sworn I saw them in an embrace more than a time or two. Cue the Gin Blossoms: Hey Jealousy….

Blog comments now come complete with soundtrack from the late 80s.

That’s the end of my comment analysis.  The thing is that I would have discussed this comment with the commenter had I known who he was but, of course, anonymous email addresses.  I wonder what his pop-psychology books have to say about that.  “This individual thinks his opinion is necessary but is not confident enough in himself as a critic to stand behind his words.  He is afraid of the social fallout associated with publicly, and confidently, airing his complaints.”

And, now I can send that comment into the trash where it belongs.  And this, friends, is the beauty of having your very own blog!  You can publish, and trash, comments as you see fit!  No democracy here!  This is a Rebekah-ocracy and thank goodness for that.

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