Of Bars, Booze, and Bartending - Proving "Coughlin's Law" Invalid Since Feb '05

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Tonight I fantasized about dancing with a broom

Pretty slow for a Friday night. There was a moment where I was so bored, I pictured myself in a non-existent Dave Matthews video, dancing with a broom. I owned it and was fierce, of course. It picked up late, and by then it was only annoying. Ideally, servers and bartenders want the evening to get busy starting around 7 pm, working up to a frenzy by 9, and pretty much over by 11. That's the ideal. Of course, by definition, it never happens. More often, the customers come in spurts, leaving you bored-really bored-suddenly slammed - triple-sat - losing my shit - bored - I'm closing and I need a cocktail. In a nutshell.

The usual cheese-sters showed up around 10. I was training a new bartender, so by "Cheesy 10" I had grown quite tired of describing glassware and appetizers and touchscreen computer systems to "New Kid". I checked out, and hammered out an agreement with my manager that I could clock out and drink gin-n-tonnies on the house, if I stuck around and supervised New Kid through closing. I work pretty cheap, so long as I don't have any plans for the evening. Sitting at the end of the bar in your uniform is uncomfortable. It was only a matter of time before "the regulars" sat beside me, only making the night longer and more miserable. Yes, of course I'll meet you guys later at :: Insert Local Silver Beaver Club Here:: Yes, you guys are really fun and I can't wait until I get off so I can go meet you at that lame club!

By 10, any regular still left in our tavern is fat, happy and ready to move on to some serious drinking. It's truly the last thing they should be thinking of, drinking more, and the entire time their liquid-courage-infused banter enters my ears, I'm worried about their cab rides home and what-not. In Big City Ohio, you still have to wait a half-hour for a cab to drive your drunk ass home. It's pathetic. I fantasize briefly about a late-night drunk-ass cab service start-up, excuse myself, walk New Kid through a quick, tired demonstration of check-out, and go home.

Saturday night, it'll be me and New Kid. It's tough to get used to a new partner.

Did I mention that he's well over 55? I know I can appreciate old-school, and I hope to learn much from him, but it's different for me...