wednesday. ladies night. $1 frozen margaritas to the girls our bar deems worthy-a.k.a. white. ladies night, is one of the most irritating drink specials of all time. let's give super-cheap, super-strong margaritas to the already poor-tipping faction of the population, get them too drunk, too fast. let's play gwen stefani and get them to dance on that bar like strippers on their first night on the job. let's also surround them by men who are not getting the same special, therefore consuming far less alcohol and creating a horribly uneven playing field on which ex-sorority girls stumble into the arms of anyone who will provide someting stable to hang onto and beg to be taken care of/home/anywhere but here. let's pull out the beer bong, jolly rancher shots and whip cream for the REALLY hot girls (aka girls the two male bartenders want to fuck that night either downstairs in the walk-in cooler or after hours in the party room bathroom.) it's brilliant from a business standpoint-boys go where drunk girls are. drunk girls+boys looking for drunk girls=$$ for the bar, bartenders. it's appalling and disgusting from any other standpoint-drunk girls+slightly less drunk boys=rape.
i love bartending. i hate bartending. last saturday when i was standing on the bar during the 1,734th time i've heard "pour some sugar on me" in the last 5 years, alternately pouring a bottle of bud light and sugar all over some guy getting high-fived and ridiculously over-tipped by all of his friends, making enough money to pay my rent in 9 hours, i loved it. today, knowing that i am going to have to endure 9 hours of serving banana/strawberry/papaya margaritas, keep drunk girls in too tight jeans from falling off the bar while breaking it down to PCD's "Don'tcha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me," while attempting to make enough money to pay my health insurance and make up for the fact i am taking saturday night off to actually have a real weekend night like the rest of the world, i hate it.
it could be worse. i could be a waitress.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
So you wanna bang a bartender? Good Luck.
written after a long shift at jake's dilemma circa october 2005. my how things don't change...
one of the joys/miseries of bartending is the never-ending stream of pick-up lines.
one of all-time my favorites-
'baby, i wanna take you out, buy you a hillary clinton diamond-studded pant suit and treat you like a real lady."-Fat Keanu, Jake's Dilemma, sometime last spring. it left both of us laughing, neither of us quite sure why.
this came from a man who spent seven nights a week in our bar, who'd ordered millions of bottles of bud light over the years from various bartenders, each and EVERYTIME asking, "dude, how much is that?" he had this amazing way of seeming like he had never been in our bar before. like he was both surprised and excited to find out that a bud light was only $4. we always wrote FAT KEANU at the top of his tab and never in three years did he question it. he seemed like one of those people who woke up every morning not quite sure what their name was and went through each and everyday discovering new and thrilling things such as how to take the subway and that you could order your coffee both light AND sweet.
two sundays ago i had a guy hand me his bussiness card wrapped in two $1 dollar bills, wink and say, "girl, you know what to do." i wasn't quite sure if he meant with his number, in the bedroom, behind the bar, or just in general. and to add an extra bit of complexity, his card stated that he was a liscensed marrigae officiant. so, was i to call if i wanted to marry him, or be married by him? very confusing.
after 5 years behind bars, i still am not sure why men hit on bartenders. honestly. just based on the numbers alone, what are the chances that an attractive female bartender is a.) single b.) really into drunk guys feeding her lines that she has heard 100 times before? believe me, no matter how original or genuine you are, she most definitely has heard them before except for maybe the hillary clinton line. maybe. come on. give us some credit.
and for all the nice guys out there who we've actually had good, in-depth conversations with, who we've bought a few extra drinks for, and who we're genuinely glad to see on a continual basis please, please, please don't ruin it by coming in late one night after you have been drinking since 4:30pm at brother jimmy's and tell us that you're in love with us and if you were our boyfriend you would support us and we wouldn't have to bartend ever again. it's cliche and overdone.
i don't mean to sound horrible, but people (guys) seem unable to comprehend that the reason i am being nice/attentive/flirtatious is because i want to pay my rent AND be able to afford to buy my own hillary clinton diamond-studded pant suit, thank you very much.
it could be worse. i could be a waitress
one of the joys/miseries of bartending is the never-ending stream of pick-up lines.
one of all-time my favorites-
'baby, i wanna take you out, buy you a hillary clinton diamond-studded pant suit and treat you like a real lady."-Fat Keanu, Jake's Dilemma, sometime last spring. it left both of us laughing, neither of us quite sure why.
this came from a man who spent seven nights a week in our bar, who'd ordered millions of bottles of bud light over the years from various bartenders, each and EVERYTIME asking, "dude, how much is that?" he had this amazing way of seeming like he had never been in our bar before. like he was both surprised and excited to find out that a bud light was only $4. we always wrote FAT KEANU at the top of his tab and never in three years did he question it. he seemed like one of those people who woke up every morning not quite sure what their name was and went through each and everyday discovering new and thrilling things such as how to take the subway and that you could order your coffee both light AND sweet.
two sundays ago i had a guy hand me his bussiness card wrapped in two $1 dollar bills, wink and say, "girl, you know what to do." i wasn't quite sure if he meant with his number, in the bedroom, behind the bar, or just in general. and to add an extra bit of complexity, his card stated that he was a liscensed marrigae officiant. so, was i to call if i wanted to marry him, or be married by him? very confusing.
after 5 years behind bars, i still am not sure why men hit on bartenders. honestly. just based on the numbers alone, what are the chances that an attractive female bartender is a.) single b.) really into drunk guys feeding her lines that she has heard 100 times before? believe me, no matter how original or genuine you are, she most definitely has heard them before except for maybe the hillary clinton line. maybe. come on. give us some credit.
and for all the nice guys out there who we've actually had good, in-depth conversations with, who we've bought a few extra drinks for, and who we're genuinely glad to see on a continual basis please, please, please don't ruin it by coming in late one night after you have been drinking since 4:30pm at brother jimmy's and tell us that you're in love with us and if you were our boyfriend you would support us and we wouldn't have to bartend ever again. it's cliche and overdone.
i don't mean to sound horrible, but people (guys) seem unable to comprehend that the reason i am being nice/attentive/flirtatious is because i want to pay my rent AND be able to afford to buy my own hillary clinton diamond-studded pant suit, thank you very much.
it could be worse. i could be a waitress
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