Oh you’re a bartender? Neat.

Okay Peeps, before anyone gets all up in arms with me for making you sign up for this blog oh those many years ago and then abruptly stop writing when shit got real around here let me just say this…suck it bitches, writing is hard sometimes, if you can do better I promise to sign up for your shit 😉

That being said, as we all know, a few years ago, rather than die of over consumption or go to prison for stabbing a mutherfucker, I had to leave my beloved Bossman and move on to different digs a bit closer to home. The good news about hanging your bottle opener in a different spot is that although there are probably still a few ass clowns, you don’t know them on an absolutely personal level.

By this I mean,
~ you haven’t seen them puke all over themselves
~ you haven’t been bled on when they started a fight
~ you haven’t held them while they cried over a broken heart
~ you haven’t yet noticed what an absolute small minded homophobic racist they are on the daily

It makes it a lot easier to be nice to people from the get if you don’t know what the truth serum of alcohol is going to bring out of the shadows.Usually by the time the ugliness rears it’s pretty head you already kind of have a soft spot for your people and are a little more forgiving of indiscretions. For example, I have a couple of favorite cute boys who come to visit most Friday nights. Last night was no exception. Now originally when they would call every Friday and ask who was working or how many people were there I was like, listen dumbass just get over here and see for yourself. I don’t know why they would call because no matter what I said they would always show up no matter what I told them regarding the crowd, but it was just something that they did. Oddly enough I now look forward to this call and smile to myself every time it comes.

So, my point is that my new digs have a lot less dumbassery happening on the daily. However, where alcohol is involved there is a propensity for said behavior. Last night there were some opportunities for such shenanigans. One of my bar patrons has been known to act like a complete tool when he has had one too many Coors Lights. Keep in mind he is a grown ass man. And by grown I mean, older than me. He has been known to start fights and let his mouth run like a scalded dog. Last night however, he was sweet as pie and his normally somewhat crabby wife was smiling to beat the band all night long.

We also had a visit from one of the regulars who is absolutely known to start a fight or two and yet he too was on his best behavior, it was a Christmas miracle y’all, it truly was. So, I am feeling great, working with one of my favorites, all the best and cutest good tipping boys are there, even the difficult ones are behaving like nobodies business what could possibly go wrong right? Well, if you have ever worked in a bar you know better than to ask that question. So this was the result of that business.

Dear Giant Boob Sparkly Tank Girl,

You have giant boobs, good for you, everyone likes boobs and I’m no different. However, there is no reason to buy your tops two sizes too small, your boobs will still look huge, trust me, and when it’s 21 degrees outside, throw on a jacket. You’re trying too hard and you don’t need to…you really don’t. Secondly and most important if you must order something that is so stupid (a fucking awesome or the like) and unnecessarily complicated, the last thing that should come out of your mouth is “I’m a bartender too…I used to work here.”

First of all, no bartender worth their salt is going to order that shit. It has 6 liquors and 3 juices in one shot and you only want one. Secondly, I’ve been doing this for thirty fucking years, if I tell you I can remember the ingredients, you continuing to write them down just makes you an idiot. Third and one of the most important items, don’t say “I know there are a lot of things so just a two to three second pour on each and a little more cranberry than the other juices.” Really bitch? Two to three second pours on the 9 items you fucking need in your one little shot. Listen you vacant little idiot, do not presume to tell me shit about bartending. EVER.

You would think that would have ended our little interaction as I informed my partner that if I had to deal with this GBST again I might lose my shit. Now my partner is a girl I have known since before she even turned 21. I loved her then, I love her still. There is a zen about her that I would like to harness like the power of the sun. Thankfully LemonZen was all about me not throat punching anyone and started helping GBST so I didn’t have to choke down my violence like one of those giant vitamins that no one likes. Crisis averted and the end of the night arrives. I give GBST her tab and she pays but after she leaves I realize I cannot locate her charge slip. I finally find it folded into a small square with this ever so sweet note.

“Bartender to bartender sorry about this but you know how it goes.”

This was where she added the $3 tip on her $52 tab totaling it out at $55. Really bitch? Really? So this conversation between me and LemonZen follows:

LZ: “Was she joking about this? Were you mean to her?”
dbd: “No, oddly enough for what a pain in the ass she was I was ridiculously nice to her. She said she used to work here trying to bond with me and I didn’t even laugh in her face or anything.”
LZ: O”hhhhhhhhh, I knew I recognized her, she’s the one that only made it two days.”
dbd: “Wow, that’s quite an accomplishment.”
LZ: “Yeah, I think she got caught screwing one of the customers in the parking lot.”
dbd: “Oh, is that a firing offense?”
LZ: “Well, it wasn’t in a car or anything…just right out there in the lot gettin her freak on, second day of work.”
dbd: “Wow, that’s bold. The story almost makes up for that shit tip. Almost.”

So that’s all I’ve got for today peeps. Lesson to be taken from this is don’t be that girl. No bartender cares if you’re a bartender, your actions will single you out as being one of the tribe trust me. Ordering stupid shit is not going to identify you as anything more than the pain in the ass that you truly are. Be better, drink better because in the end, giant boobs are much more fantastic when they aren’t attached to a dumbass.

With love and liquor,
divebardiva