As the temperatures are finally dropping, I found myself reflecting on the summer. I didn't work at the bar very much so there wasn't enough to write about. But the more I think, the more I remember. I haven't had a refined carb in 7 days or caffeine in 8 (but who's counting?!?!) so if I'm a bit grouchy, deal with it.
Let's start with my personal favorite of the summer. The girl who thought she could drink 7 long island ice tea's in her sweatpants. The sweatpants aren't really important to the story other than a reminder to you all that sweatpants should never be worn in public. Ever. This refined elegant woman took to slamming what amounts to 28 shots in a matter of 2 or 3 hours and I have to say the results were as fantastic as you would expect. As she stumbled to the bathroom, she fell into a painting on the wall, knocked herself out and pissed her sweatpants (I hope she can salvage them!!). When she came to, she vomited what we guessed where 20 hot dogs and spaghetti all over.
RULE: Never drink 7 long islands unless you are the size of Shaquille O'Neal or have the drinking experience of Charlie Sheen.
Another of my favorites was a 50-something year old woman who was dressed as a school girl. Did I mention this was summer? She had on a plaid skirt, knee high socks, and her hair was in two braids. I wasn't sure if I should ask why she was in costume or what asylum she had broken out of. She grabbed me, as drunken people are very apt to do, and asked me for something but I couldn't make out what she wanted. Someone at the table informed me that she wanted a Red Bull and Vodka. I looked her in the eyes and said, "I can't serve it to you if you can't say it." She took a deep breath, straightened up, and gave her best attempt at acting sober. Good enough. She also was not able to make it out of the bar without losing her lunch.
RULE: Watch out for energy drinks, especially if you are 1)over 35 2)sensitive to caffeine. I can't have more than one bomb without waking up after 4 hours of sleep feeling like death. I imagine this amplifies with each passing decade.
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Monday, October 17, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
How to pay cover
I work in a bar that charges a cover. This is a great departure from what other bars in town have done and some people take great issue with it. People constantly complain about it and are constantly trying to get out of paying it.
One reason people don't want to pay it: they don't understand why we charge it in the first place. We are the only bar downtown that regularly charges (I think). Other bars in town have charged a cover only when there is a crazy drink special. For instance, $5 cover and $1 wells all night long. The reason we charge a cover is that we FLY in acts from all over the country and put them up in a hotel for the weekend. We also PAY them to play. You are paying $5 for the entertainment not the drink specials. Think of it like a ticket price to a concert. So to the girl who screamed across the bar, "My friend doesn't have to pay cover does she? She's pregnant?" Unless she's Helen Keller, she pays.
If you think you can flirt your way in, good luck. The door guys get a cut of the door so it is in their best interest to charge as many people as they can. But they are human, so like I said, good luck - you never know. It could work. If you are going to Las Vegas with a group of girls - put on your best dress from the Slut Barn and expect to pay nothing in the way of cover. Clubs in Vegas want good looking ladies inside and they will chase you down to get you to come into their establishments. We didn't pay anything for cover and many of the bouncers gave us a free drink ticket as well. Not that I'm cheap, but if they are offering, I'll take it. Don't worry - I tipped extra for a free drink, just as you should.
The other reason people don't want to pay cover is that they are bar hopping and won't be staying very long. I sympathize with you, but the idea is to get you in the door and to KEEP you there, thus getting more money from you. If you pay to get in, it is our hope that you therefore will want to stay and "get your money's worth." If you are coming in with a large group, such as a bachelorette party or a scavenger hunt party that plans on bar hopping, the bouncers will occasionally cut a deal such as two for one cover. However, if you appear to be a super annoying group that is rude or demanding in any way - don't bet on a deal of any kind. It might be your special day, but the door guy doesn't care, just like everyone else you will encounter that isn't your best friend or family member.
Another reason? "I'm here all the time!" Thank you for your continued patronage! We appreciate it, but if we only charged people that had never been here, we would be closing our doors in a week. Some one out there suggested on a blog that you should attempt to try to get in for free by pretending to know the staff that works there. They suggested you pick a generic sounding waitress name (I find this incredible offensive) and drop it to the door guy. This is ridiculous for two reasons: good luck guessing "Jecynda" or "Carlo" and secondly, even if you do know "Jecynda" - you still aren't getting in for free. There has been very little turnover at our bar so knowing the bartenders or staff really isn't a feat. So trying the "I know so and so who works here!!" will only get you, "Yeah...everyone knows him. Five bucks please."
Some people are just plain cheap. They don't realize that $5 is pretty cheap for the level of talent we bring into our bar on a weekly basis. Don't think so? Try booking one of the acts for a private party. If $5 still just seems like too much to you, please go elsewhere. We just aren't the place for you. In my experience, if you balk at the $5, your eyes will explode at the drink prices (which are reasonable, just like the cover), and cheap people rarely see the importance of tipping (I choked just having to type that).
So how do you enter a bar like a pro?
1) Be polite to the bouncers. They are people. You can say hello to them.
2) Hand them your cash (not coins!) with a smile.
3) Move along. There are other people waiting to come in. You don't need to become their Facebook friends and you also don't need to show them how tough you are by talking about how P90X is going for you. Even if you do become their friend, you are still a long way from getting in for free.
4) In a night club, you may want to tip. There is one guy that I know of that tips the bouncers but in most places, I don't think this is necessary. However, if you want to set yourself apart so they remember you, go ahead. Of course, I would never discourage anyone from tipping anyone, any time.
5) If you feel paying cover is "against your religion" then our bar just isn't for you. It's one of those, "It's not you it's me" situations, except it's you.
One reason people don't want to pay it: they don't understand why we charge it in the first place. We are the only bar downtown that regularly charges (I think). Other bars in town have charged a cover only when there is a crazy drink special. For instance, $5 cover and $1 wells all night long. The reason we charge a cover is that we FLY in acts from all over the country and put them up in a hotel for the weekend. We also PAY them to play. You are paying $5 for the entertainment not the drink specials. Think of it like a ticket price to a concert. So to the girl who screamed across the bar, "My friend doesn't have to pay cover does she? She's pregnant?" Unless she's Helen Keller, she pays.
If you think you can flirt your way in, good luck. The door guys get a cut of the door so it is in their best interest to charge as many people as they can. But they are human, so like I said, good luck - you never know. It could work. If you are going to Las Vegas with a group of girls - put on your best dress from the Slut Barn and expect to pay nothing in the way of cover. Clubs in Vegas want good looking ladies inside and they will chase you down to get you to come into their establishments. We didn't pay anything for cover and many of the bouncers gave us a free drink ticket as well. Not that I'm cheap, but if they are offering, I'll take it. Don't worry - I tipped extra for a free drink, just as you should.
The other reason people don't want to pay cover is that they are bar hopping and won't be staying very long. I sympathize with you, but the idea is to get you in the door and to KEEP you there, thus getting more money from you. If you pay to get in, it is our hope that you therefore will want to stay and "get your money's worth." If you are coming in with a large group, such as a bachelorette party or a scavenger hunt party that plans on bar hopping, the bouncers will occasionally cut a deal such as two for one cover. However, if you appear to be a super annoying group that is rude or demanding in any way - don't bet on a deal of any kind. It might be your special day, but the door guy doesn't care, just like everyone else you will encounter that isn't your best friend or family member.
Another reason? "I'm here all the time!" Thank you for your continued patronage! We appreciate it, but if we only charged people that had never been here, we would be closing our doors in a week. Some one out there suggested on a blog that you should attempt to try to get in for free by pretending to know the staff that works there. They suggested you pick a generic sounding waitress name (I find this incredible offensive) and drop it to the door guy. This is ridiculous for two reasons: good luck guessing "Jecynda" or "Carlo" and secondly, even if you do know "Jecynda" - you still aren't getting in for free. There has been very little turnover at our bar so knowing the bartenders or staff really isn't a feat. So trying the "I know so and so who works here!!" will only get you, "Yeah...everyone knows him. Five bucks please."
Some people are just plain cheap. They don't realize that $5 is pretty cheap for the level of talent we bring into our bar on a weekly basis. Don't think so? Try booking one of the acts for a private party. If $5 still just seems like too much to you, please go elsewhere. We just aren't the place for you. In my experience, if you balk at the $5, your eyes will explode at the drink prices (which are reasonable, just like the cover), and cheap people rarely see the importance of tipping (I choked just having to type that).
So how do you enter a bar like a pro?
1) Be polite to the bouncers. They are people. You can say hello to them.
2) Hand them your cash (not coins!) with a smile.
3) Move along. There are other people waiting to come in. You don't need to become their Facebook friends and you also don't need to show them how tough you are by talking about how P90X is going for you. Even if you do become their friend, you are still a long way from getting in for free.
4) In a night club, you may want to tip. There is one guy that I know of that tips the bouncers but in most places, I don't think this is necessary. However, if you want to set yourself apart so they remember you, go ahead. Of course, I would never discourage anyone from tipping anyone, any time.
5) If you feel paying cover is "against your religion" then our bar just isn't for you. It's one of those, "It's not you it's me" situations, except it's you.
Monday, April 25, 2011
How to respond to rudeness
The bar that I work at, in an effort to boost our early evening business, has merged with the local comedy club. We now feature comedians from 7:30 - 9:30 and then dueling pianos begin after that. A few years ago I worked for the comedy club so I was pretty excited about this change.
Comedy club etiquette is pretty simple, keep your table talk to a minimum. This means don't talk to your friend during the show and don't heckle the comedians (unless it is Carlos Mencia who is coming soon. Feel free to heckle that joke stealing hack). If you think you are funnier than the comedian (which is possible - see Carlos Mencia) then feel free to come down for Amateur Comedy night and see how difficult getting laughs really can be. People's number one fear is public speaking. Number one - more than death! Most people would literally rather die than speak in public. So that also means that when people give eulogies, they would rather be the one in the coffin.
The only other tip I have for you is to order beer by the bucket. This way, you are not being interrupted during the show by the servers asking you if you want another and having to pay the server and missing out on the show. If you aren't a beer drinker, run a tab and if you plan on slamming your drinks, order two at a time.
This puts me in the difficult position of trying to keep people's drinks full but not bothering them during the show either. I think I do a pretty decent job of this, reading people's body language. However, I was vastly mistaken this weekend during the hypnotist's show. We were directed that we were not allowed to serve while he was attempting to put people under. I explained this to all my tables and everyone fully understood and ordered accordingly. Later in the show, I quietly moved between the tables and bused empty tables and checked on a few of my mixed drink people. I pulled two bottles off a high top table and the woman (picture a giant toad with glasses) said to me, "Could you do that later, my daughter is onstage." I was not obstructing her view in any way, and I was not talking to her. I walked in front of her ONCE, thus she missed a fraction of a second of her daughter. Maybe as you're reading this, you think what she said was completely in the realm of acceptable. Maybe, but it was how she said it to me. She didn't make eye contact, and she made a flicking motion with her hand as if I was a mosquito at a picnic. I picked my jaw up and went to the bathroom to take a few deep breaths.
It's times like this when I turn into Murtaugh and say to myself, "I'm too old for this shit." Then I'm brought back to reality with the thoughts of my next vacation and I head back out. I circle around, wanting to hit that table last, and as I am chatting with the couple next to them, I hear them loudly talking about me, "Did she put us all on one tab?" "I don't know but I want to pay for my own so I hope she figures that out." I calmly turn to them and ask politely, "Would you like me to separate your drinks? Yes? I'd be happy to do that." Then the toad said, "Could you remake these drinks? My daughter was onstage the whole time and they are completely watered down." Then the daughter jumped in with, "But I'd like fuzzy navels this time." She had ordered two drinks per my suggestion and they were correct, they were completely watered down. I put my hand to my throat in attempt to hold back the rising bile and tried not to think about the fact that she hadn't drank ANY of the drinks and most likely didn't like what she ordered. Since my motivation is money, and not justice, I went and got the drinks doing a spot on impersonation of the toad for the other staff.
I think what bothered me most about it, was that I couldn't respond to her, I just had to slink away as if I had done something wrong. Normally when someone says something rude to me, I can come right back at them. For instance, a guy shoved a camera at me and said, "You should take our picture." I took the camera and said with a laugh, "You should find a nicer way of asking me." He laughed, realizing how what he just said sounded. The guy who held out his glass and said, "Put water in here." My reply was to hold out my hand, cock my head to the side, smile, and say, "Put money in here." We laughed, it was fine. I don't think people ever set out to be rude, so if you can offset it with humor, it diffuses the whole situation. Some people pick up on it, like that guy but others are completely clueless. One guy in his 50's, pushed me to get my attention first (not the first time this has happened to me - why is this a way to get someone's attention - do drunk people just not know their own strength??), then later while my back was to him and I was talking to another table, he grabbed my ass. Not like a push, but a creepy caress. He didn't notice my surprise and disgust when I turned around. I asked if he meant to just do that. His reply, "Need another drink." Have I fallen into the 1800's? Is this a whorehouse? Have I been watching too much Deadwood? It happened not just once, but TWICE. I could not hide my exasperation the second time and asked if I could get him his tab. Was I really going to have to throw out a 50 year old man on a date with his wife for molesting me?!? Thankfully, he wanted his tab. He wrote, "RUDE" on his credit card slip. I wrote "PERVERT" on it and gave it back to him.
RULE: It's not what you say but how you say it that makes all the difference in the world.
Comedy club etiquette is pretty simple, keep your table talk to a minimum. This means don't talk to your friend during the show and don't heckle the comedians (unless it is Carlos Mencia who is coming soon. Feel free to heckle that joke stealing hack). If you think you are funnier than the comedian (which is possible - see Carlos Mencia) then feel free to come down for Amateur Comedy night and see how difficult getting laughs really can be. People's number one fear is public speaking. Number one - more than death! Most people would literally rather die than speak in public. So that also means that when people give eulogies, they would rather be the one in the coffin.
The only other tip I have for you is to order beer by the bucket. This way, you are not being interrupted during the show by the servers asking you if you want another and having to pay the server and missing out on the show. If you aren't a beer drinker, run a tab and if you plan on slamming your drinks, order two at a time.
This puts me in the difficult position of trying to keep people's drinks full but not bothering them during the show either. I think I do a pretty decent job of this, reading people's body language. However, I was vastly mistaken this weekend during the hypnotist's show. We were directed that we were not allowed to serve while he was attempting to put people under. I explained this to all my tables and everyone fully understood and ordered accordingly. Later in the show, I quietly moved between the tables and bused empty tables and checked on a few of my mixed drink people. I pulled two bottles off a high top table and the woman (picture a giant toad with glasses) said to me, "Could you do that later, my daughter is onstage." I was not obstructing her view in any way, and I was not talking to her. I walked in front of her ONCE, thus she missed a fraction of a second of her daughter. Maybe as you're reading this, you think what she said was completely in the realm of acceptable. Maybe, but it was how she said it to me. She didn't make eye contact, and she made a flicking motion with her hand as if I was a mosquito at a picnic. I picked my jaw up and went to the bathroom to take a few deep breaths.
It's times like this when I turn into Murtaugh and say to myself, "I'm too old for this shit." Then I'm brought back to reality with the thoughts of my next vacation and I head back out. I circle around, wanting to hit that table last, and as I am chatting with the couple next to them, I hear them loudly talking about me, "Did she put us all on one tab?" "I don't know but I want to pay for my own so I hope she figures that out." I calmly turn to them and ask politely, "Would you like me to separate your drinks? Yes? I'd be happy to do that." Then the toad said, "Could you remake these drinks? My daughter was onstage the whole time and they are completely watered down." Then the daughter jumped in with, "But I'd like fuzzy navels this time." She had ordered two drinks per my suggestion and they were correct, they were completely watered down. I put my hand to my throat in attempt to hold back the rising bile and tried not to think about the fact that she hadn't drank ANY of the drinks and most likely didn't like what she ordered. Since my motivation is money, and not justice, I went and got the drinks doing a spot on impersonation of the toad for the other staff.
I think what bothered me most about it, was that I couldn't respond to her, I just had to slink away as if I had done something wrong. Normally when someone says something rude to me, I can come right back at them. For instance, a guy shoved a camera at me and said, "You should take our picture." I took the camera and said with a laugh, "You should find a nicer way of asking me." He laughed, realizing how what he just said sounded. The guy who held out his glass and said, "Put water in here." My reply was to hold out my hand, cock my head to the side, smile, and say, "Put money in here." We laughed, it was fine. I don't think people ever set out to be rude, so if you can offset it with humor, it diffuses the whole situation. Some people pick up on it, like that guy but others are completely clueless. One guy in his 50's, pushed me to get my attention first (not the first time this has happened to me - why is this a way to get someone's attention - do drunk people just not know their own strength??), then later while my back was to him and I was talking to another table, he grabbed my ass. Not like a push, but a creepy caress. He didn't notice my surprise and disgust when I turned around. I asked if he meant to just do that. His reply, "Need another drink." Have I fallen into the 1800's? Is this a whorehouse? Have I been watching too much Deadwood? It happened not just once, but TWICE. I could not hide my exasperation the second time and asked if I could get him his tab. Was I really going to have to throw out a 50 year old man on a date with his wife for molesting me?!? Thankfully, he wanted his tab. He wrote, "RUDE" on his credit card slip. I wrote "PERVERT" on it and gave it back to him.
RULE: It's not what you say but how you say it that makes all the difference in the world.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Spa day gone wrong
This post has nothing to do with working in a bar, going to a bar, or anything related to drinking. However, since it is the strangest thing that has happened to me, maybe ever, it deserves some words. Let me just say that I have had tons of massages from tons of people in tons of places and none of them where like what I experienced today.
Even though I am unable to use coupons at restaurants or grocery stores (I have an intense fear of appearing cheap) I have been able to buy living social vouchers for massages. Lately since I have been training for a half marathon my upper back has been really bothering me so I have been spending most Saturdays getting massages. Thanks to Living Social, it has saved me a ton of money. Today I showed up to my massage at a new place (I wont say where or with who but I can tell you I had never met the woman before today). I told her about my running, a head on collision I was involved in a few years ago that initially caused the pain, and working at the bar which exacerbates it.
She directed me to take everything off, including underwear, which is unusual. She told me, "You may get wet and you don't want to go home in wet underwear." Apparently she didn't understand what she just said so I dismissed it and feeling a tad uneasy, I undressed and laid down on the table as she directed me (she was out of the room at this time). As I laid there waiting for her to return I was overwhelmed with a strange feeling that something horrible was going to happen. Was it because she locked the front door behind her? Then it dawned on me, the strange feeling was coming from the music she was playing. At first it sounded like a thunderstorm, and then it morphed into something out of a Hitchcock movie. There was strange keyboard music that made me certain that my day was going to end up with a scene from the Crying Game.
She came in and since I was looking down I could see she was barefoot. I have a thing about feet. I despise them. I don't like people touching my feet and I certainly don't like looking at or touching other peoples feet. But fine, whatever, it's her place. She said she was going to start off with some vibrator work, "Do you like that?" Usually not with other women I thought but instead I said something like, "Sure?" Thankfully she couldn't see the horrified expression on my face. After rubbing some weird vibrator all over me (I didn't like it by the way) she moved on to pumping oil all over her hands. So much oil it was dripping on my back and completely freaked me out. What she started doing next I can't even describe. I didn't think she was really serious. It was like a fake movie massage from someone who was pretending to me a massage therapist. I was expecting to look up and see Steve Carell or Vince Vaughn. At one point she was rubbing so vigorously and my head was moving back and forth so much she stopped to ask, "Oh is that too much?" Whiplash should have been your first clue.
When she got to my arms the movement was like an Indian burn or a snake bite (depending on where you grew up). Normally hand massages are my favorite part of a massage. When she was rubbing my hands it was like she was cleaning them rather than massaging them. Then she moved onto my legs and feet. Normally I tell massage therapists that I have extremely ticklish feet but I had forgotten today. Also, I ran 12 miles yesterday and worked 8 hours at the bar so my feet were a little sensitive anyway. That didn't stop her from squeezing them as she was wringing out a towel, and trying to put her fingers in between my toes. I can't even put my own fingers in between my toes! Even though I acknowledged how ticklish I am by this point, she just won't stop!
Next it was time for the mud wrap and steam. Somehow I had pictured myself in white robe sitting in an all white steam room sipping champagne with some other ladies. Instead, she rubbed scalding purple mud on me and then placed a tent over my entire body with the exception of my head. The mud was only on my arms and legs and I was laying on my back. She then said she would massage by face and head. I almost wanted to beg her not too. I don't really like having my scalp massaged anyway and the way she did it, it felt like she was itching my head. Meanwhile, my body is enclosed in a steam tent. There is a bolster under my knees which created a ramp for sweat to pour down towards my crotch and I was soon laying in a big puddle of sweaty mud. She also kept making me drink water out of a straw which made me feel like I was in an iron lung or was going to get cut in half by a magician. It should have been refreshing but since all I could think of was the sweat pooling under me, it tasted like the run off from the sweat suit stunt on Jackass 3. Finally she got the tent off and wiped me down. However the part of me that was the most sweaty and disgusting she thankfully left alone. As she was wiping me down she asked, "Are you enjoying it so far?" I forced a smile to spare her feelings and said, "Oh yes!" As she continued to get the mud off I willed a pleasant expression to my face. "Look happy, look happy" I told myself. She then explained she would apply some moisturizing lotion that contained no chemicals, it was totally green. When someone says "Green" to me, I automatically think "hippy." Thankfully the lotion didn't smell too bad, but after all that sweating I definitely left there smelling like a hippy on the last day of Bonnaroo. I couldn't get home and into the shower fast enough. Instead, she welcomed me to a sitting room where I could enjoy a cup of tea and some dried fruit and crackers. Anyone who knows me has heard me say, 'I don't drink hot things and I dont' eat cold things." I know it's weird but I don't drink coffee and I don't eat ice cream. For some reason I felt for this lady. She was really sweet and her ineptness just made her more endearing. So I choked down some tea and tried to eat a cracker (I am still, hours later still picking cracker crap out of my teeth). Finally I jumped up and announced I had to go to the bathroom so I could leave. I shoved a tip in her hand and left telling her how great I felt, and I ran to my car and flew home.
Even though I am unable to use coupons at restaurants or grocery stores (I have an intense fear of appearing cheap) I have been able to buy living social vouchers for massages. Lately since I have been training for a half marathon my upper back has been really bothering me so I have been spending most Saturdays getting massages. Thanks to Living Social, it has saved me a ton of money. Today I showed up to my massage at a new place (I wont say where or with who but I can tell you I had never met the woman before today). I told her about my running, a head on collision I was involved in a few years ago that initially caused the pain, and working at the bar which exacerbates it.
She directed me to take everything off, including underwear, which is unusual. She told me, "You may get wet and you don't want to go home in wet underwear." Apparently she didn't understand what she just said so I dismissed it and feeling a tad uneasy, I undressed and laid down on the table as she directed me (she was out of the room at this time). As I laid there waiting for her to return I was overwhelmed with a strange feeling that something horrible was going to happen. Was it because she locked the front door behind her? Then it dawned on me, the strange feeling was coming from the music she was playing. At first it sounded like a thunderstorm, and then it morphed into something out of a Hitchcock movie. There was strange keyboard music that made me certain that my day was going to end up with a scene from the Crying Game.
She came in and since I was looking down I could see she was barefoot. I have a thing about feet. I despise them. I don't like people touching my feet and I certainly don't like looking at or touching other peoples feet. But fine, whatever, it's her place. She said she was going to start off with some vibrator work, "Do you like that?" Usually not with other women I thought but instead I said something like, "Sure?" Thankfully she couldn't see the horrified expression on my face. After rubbing some weird vibrator all over me (I didn't like it by the way) she moved on to pumping oil all over her hands. So much oil it was dripping on my back and completely freaked me out. What she started doing next I can't even describe. I didn't think she was really serious. It was like a fake movie massage from someone who was pretending to me a massage therapist. I was expecting to look up and see Steve Carell or Vince Vaughn. At one point she was rubbing so vigorously and my head was moving back and forth so much she stopped to ask, "Oh is that too much?" Whiplash should have been your first clue.
When she got to my arms the movement was like an Indian burn or a snake bite (depending on where you grew up). Normally hand massages are my favorite part of a massage. When she was rubbing my hands it was like she was cleaning them rather than massaging them. Then she moved onto my legs and feet. Normally I tell massage therapists that I have extremely ticklish feet but I had forgotten today. Also, I ran 12 miles yesterday and worked 8 hours at the bar so my feet were a little sensitive anyway. That didn't stop her from squeezing them as she was wringing out a towel, and trying to put her fingers in between my toes. I can't even put my own fingers in between my toes! Even though I acknowledged how ticklish I am by this point, she just won't stop!
Next it was time for the mud wrap and steam. Somehow I had pictured myself in white robe sitting in an all white steam room sipping champagne with some other ladies. Instead, she rubbed scalding purple mud on me and then placed a tent over my entire body with the exception of my head. The mud was only on my arms and legs and I was laying on my back. She then said she would massage by face and head. I almost wanted to beg her not too. I don't really like having my scalp massaged anyway and the way she did it, it felt like she was itching my head. Meanwhile, my body is enclosed in a steam tent. There is a bolster under my knees which created a ramp for sweat to pour down towards my crotch and I was soon laying in a big puddle of sweaty mud. She also kept making me drink water out of a straw which made me feel like I was in an iron lung or was going to get cut in half by a magician. It should have been refreshing but since all I could think of was the sweat pooling under me, it tasted like the run off from the sweat suit stunt on Jackass 3. Finally she got the tent off and wiped me down. However the part of me that was the most sweaty and disgusting she thankfully left alone. As she was wiping me down she asked, "Are you enjoying it so far?" I forced a smile to spare her feelings and said, "Oh yes!" As she continued to get the mud off I willed a pleasant expression to my face. "Look happy, look happy" I told myself. She then explained she would apply some moisturizing lotion that contained no chemicals, it was totally green. When someone says "Green" to me, I automatically think "hippy." Thankfully the lotion didn't smell too bad, but after all that sweating I definitely left there smelling like a hippy on the last day of Bonnaroo. I couldn't get home and into the shower fast enough. Instead, she welcomed me to a sitting room where I could enjoy a cup of tea and some dried fruit and crackers. Anyone who knows me has heard me say, 'I don't drink hot things and I dont' eat cold things." I know it's weird but I don't drink coffee and I don't eat ice cream. For some reason I felt for this lady. She was really sweet and her ineptness just made her more endearing. So I choked down some tea and tried to eat a cracker (I am still, hours later still picking cracker crap out of my teeth). Finally I jumped up and announced I had to go to the bathroom so I could leave. I shoved a tip in her hand and left telling her how great I felt, and I ran to my car and flew home.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
How to treat people like crap
"How people treat you is their karma, how you react is yours." Well here's my reaction to some of the things that have happened to myself and fellow service industry friends.
My friend Renee was working at the main bar and got a guy a beer on his way into the gameroom. About a half hour later, the gameroom bartender had been cut so she went over there to work. The guy came up to the bar and said, "Oh! I've never seen you here before." She took a deep breath and said, "I just got you a beer at the other bar a little bit ago." He seemed puzzled by this and then his eyes traveled from her face to her chest. Suddenly the light bulb went off, "Oh yeah! Now I recognize you! You look a lot better in that light." - meaning the dimmer, darker lighting at the main bar. What other job can offer you constant berating?!? Why do people think it is okay to vomit every thought that comes out of their brains without thought to how others may perceive it? On a side note: the more revealing a shirt a woman is wearing, the more conscious she is of where your eyes are focused. Most of us also have peripheral vision so you aren't getting away with anything so try and use yours.
My friend Brett was waiting on a couple that had no idea what they wanted and seemed to feel like this was Brett's fault. He just didn't seem to understand them well enough to make a proper suggestion. They finally settled on something and Brett scurried off to fetch it for them. The couple had free drink tickets and the man held out $5. The bartender knew the man was not going to tip $5 - the guy had yelled at him and they had no clue what they wanted. Sure signs that the couple were not bar regulars nor big tippers. The bartender saw the $5 and went to the register and got 5 singles. Before the man could even ask for change, the bartender handed him the 5 ones. He was visibly taken aback by the bartender's psychic powers. The woman said (out loud as if bartenders were deaf as well as dumb), "So he's not totally stupid after all." A less restrained person would have punched the woman in the throat. The bartender, ever the professional, just smiled, laughed, and went directly to the cooler to medicate himself with a shot of jagermeister.
My friend Renee was working at the main bar and got a guy a beer on his way into the gameroom. About a half hour later, the gameroom bartender had been cut so she went over there to work. The guy came up to the bar and said, "Oh! I've never seen you here before." She took a deep breath and said, "I just got you a beer at the other bar a little bit ago." He seemed puzzled by this and then his eyes traveled from her face to her chest. Suddenly the light bulb went off, "Oh yeah! Now I recognize you! You look a lot better in that light." - meaning the dimmer, darker lighting at the main bar. What other job can offer you constant berating?!? Why do people think it is okay to vomit every thought that comes out of their brains without thought to how others may perceive it? On a side note: the more revealing a shirt a woman is wearing, the more conscious she is of where your eyes are focused. Most of us also have peripheral vision so you aren't getting away with anything so try and use yours.
My friend Brett was waiting on a couple that had no idea what they wanted and seemed to feel like this was Brett's fault. He just didn't seem to understand them well enough to make a proper suggestion. They finally settled on something and Brett scurried off to fetch it for them. The couple had free drink tickets and the man held out $5. The bartender knew the man was not going to tip $5 - the guy had yelled at him and they had no clue what they wanted. Sure signs that the couple were not bar regulars nor big tippers. The bartender saw the $5 and went to the register and got 5 singles. Before the man could even ask for change, the bartender handed him the 5 ones. He was visibly taken aback by the bartender's psychic powers. The woman said (out loud as if bartenders were deaf as well as dumb), "So he's not totally stupid after all." A less restrained person would have punched the woman in the throat. The bartender, ever the professional, just smiled, laughed, and went directly to the cooler to medicate himself with a shot of jagermeister.
After work this weekend I grabbed a beer and sat myself down in front of what turned out to be a very angry bartender. We'll call him Mitch. I am one of those people who find the misfortune of others hilarious so I wanted all of the details of whatever had pissed him off so much. It involved a girl and her birthday. No surprises so far. She irritated him right off the bat because she was drinking something called, "Hoopie Juice" which is named after the bartender who was notable absent that night. Hoopie is normally the only bartender this girl will order drinks from. Mitch was angry about the 8 ingredients in Hoopie Juice and he was equally grossed out by the name of the drink. The girl was very evasive about paying for her drinks and finally Mitch asked her for a credit card. When she didn't have one, he informed her that her tab was up to $22. She smiled and said she had 6. Mitch narrowed his eyes and said, "I need $22." He said this knowing that he most likely had missed a drink so $22 was a low estimate of the actual amount of her tab. The girl grabbed a friend who pitched in another $10. The girl was angry that this friend had put a drink on her tab, and even though the friend was trying to help pay the tab, she felt like she should bitch out the bartender for allowing such a thing to happen. They now had $16. After conferencing with the other females in the group, they brought another $7 in ones and change up to the bar. The extra dig that sent him over the edge was when they told him to keep the change. Thanks for the dollar. Before you feel too sorry for the birthday girl who had to scrape up change to pay her tab on her birthday, I should mention that she hired a photographer to follow her and her friends around for the night. I'm pretty sure that cost more than $22. It is also worth noting that this girl has two jobs that both rely on tips. It's like a cop who breaks the law - you can't plead ignorance.
My standard approach to a table is to smile and ask, "How are you doing tonight?" A normal response to that is usually, "Good. How are you?" While these exchanges are meaningless and said automatically, some people don't think I deserve that level of politeness. Often times people ignore my question and just jump right into their order. Ok! All business. That's efficient and I can appreciate efficiency. When it becomes over the top is when guys answer that question not realizing that I CAN HEAR. Drunk people tend to lose a little bit of hearing with every drink and thus get louder and louder until they are shouting everything. After asking a couple of guys how they were doing, they replied as if I was deaf, "My night would be a lot better if she'd show us her tits." Sorry, guys, it's not that kind of bar. I love how guys think that if they just verbalize what they want to happen that it will actually come true. Oh! You wanted to see me naked?!? You wanted to, let me get this right, "eat breakfast off my ass" - SURE! I had no idea! Why didn't you say something sooner! Wow. We really could have saved some time here. Could I get you a new car as well? Get you all your drinks for free? Sure! All you have to do is ask! Because that's how life works. (I hope you are picking up on the sarcasm because I am laying it down about as hard as I can think it).
Many times when I go to a table they tell me they have started a tab. Normally, this means they started it with the bar so often times I don't ask - I just check with the bar. When the bar doesn't have the tab, my next question is usually, "Who did you give your credit card to?" I have found this to be more easily answered because it allows people to point at someone. This man replied, "I gave it to the bar maid." WHO?!? And then he pointed at the other server. A BARMAID?! Seriously?! What are you - a viking? When was the last time you were in a bar - 1840? I don't get too offended when people say "waitress" but my jaw actually dropped when that guy said "barmaid." I even paused thinking he was making a joke. I had an old guy give me that elbow to the ribs motion and ask if he could call me a bar wench. I paused, and without any expression simply said, "No." Who the fuck would say yes to that question?! Yes, please degrade me. I have no self worth, you may use whatever slurs you like to address me. For those of you who don't know, just like stewardess or air hostess is no longer the correct nomenclature for flight attendant, "server" is the preferred terminology for waitstaff - not waitress, not waitperson, certainly not barmaid and definitely not bar wench.
RULE: Do right, treat people right, and things will go right.
Monday, January 24, 2011
How to look stupid
My hero George Carlin once said, "Think of how stupid the average person is, and realize half of them are stupider than that." That may sound a bit arrogant but it is obvious that George at one time worked with the public. We all do stupid things once and awhile. I once passed out in a vestibule of the apartment building of my boyfriend who was out of town that weekend. Not only was I robbed, but had I gone into the other door, I could have gotten in and avoided the whole horrible scenario.
Alcohol can make you do stupid things but sometimes I wonder if the person didn't have much to start with. The other night a guy came up and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea - in a big glass please. There are 4 shots of alcohol in a Long Island - plus mixers. Where on earth were you that they gave you one in a SMALL glass?!? If you get a Long Island in a short glass, you are drinking some kind of pre-made mix that isn't worth the $6 you are paying for it.
After asking me what was on tap a man asked me for a glass of 321. I must have had low blood sugar that day because it went right by me. I knew what he meant and it didn't even register. I had the context, and I've worked with drunk people enough that often times all I need is a syllable to decipher what they want. However, it didn't get past his friend who smirked and asked, "Why do they call it that?" The guy excitedly replied, "Because it's 3-2-1 and you're drunk!" The table laughed and his friend informed him the beer was called "3-1-2" because the beer is made in Chicago in the 312 area code. He must have been on about his 8th 312 (321, whatever) or he's incredibly dyslexic in math because he just laughed along with them. I would have fainted from the embarrassment.
During a particular busy time in the night a couple was standing at the end of the bar. They had been waiting for a little bit and people can get downright nasty when they are forced to wait. These two were quite exasperated when they shouted at the bartender, "CAN WE GET A DRINK?!?" The bartender realized they had been waiting so calmly said, "Sure, what would you like?" The woman replied, "Ummmmmm. I don't know...." The man said, "What do you have?" They are standing INCHES away from the glass beer coolers displaying the beers and so close to the liquor bottles that they could touch them. The bartender looked around because these two couldn't possibly be serious. He's looking around to see if anyone is witnessing this and to ensure that he isn't the butt of some practical joke. Would you walk into the bank and demand a teller help you and then appear completely lost as to why you wanted them? Would you call the police and then say, well it really isn't that important. You don't get to yell at someone in the service industry for not being timely when you in fact were not ready yourself. It's like yelling at the postal employee for being late with the mail when all that was to be delivered was junk mail.
Another way to look like an escaped mental patient is to approach the bar looking eager and when the bartender approaches you say with a smile so big it is nearly ripping your face, "I don't know what I feel like! Just make me something!!" The bartender reached down and put a bottle of beer in front of her as the smile slowly retracted into disappointment. "$2.50 Please." Bartenders are not street artists. They aren't going to take you in and create a cocktail inspired by you.
Next time, step back, take a deep breath, and be ready with your order when you yell at the bartender. If you aren't ready there's a guy that needs a Long Island in a Tall glass. At least he knows what he wants.
RULE: Know what you want to drink. Have a go-to back-up in case the bar doesn't carry what you want.
Alcohol can make you do stupid things but sometimes I wonder if the person didn't have much to start with. The other night a guy came up and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea - in a big glass please. There are 4 shots of alcohol in a Long Island - plus mixers. Where on earth were you that they gave you one in a SMALL glass?!? If you get a Long Island in a short glass, you are drinking some kind of pre-made mix that isn't worth the $6 you are paying for it.
After asking me what was on tap a man asked me for a glass of 321. I must have had low blood sugar that day because it went right by me. I knew what he meant and it didn't even register. I had the context, and I've worked with drunk people enough that often times all I need is a syllable to decipher what they want. However, it didn't get past his friend who smirked and asked, "Why do they call it that?" The guy excitedly replied, "Because it's 3-2-1 and you're drunk!" The table laughed and his friend informed him the beer was called "3-1-2" because the beer is made in Chicago in the 312 area code. He must have been on about his 8th 312 (321, whatever) or he's incredibly dyslexic in math because he just laughed along with them. I would have fainted from the embarrassment.
During a particular busy time in the night a couple was standing at the end of the bar. They had been waiting for a little bit and people can get downright nasty when they are forced to wait. These two were quite exasperated when they shouted at the bartender, "CAN WE GET A DRINK?!?" The bartender realized they had been waiting so calmly said, "Sure, what would you like?" The woman replied, "Ummmmmm. I don't know...." The man said, "What do you have?" They are standing INCHES away from the glass beer coolers displaying the beers and so close to the liquor bottles that they could touch them. The bartender looked around because these two couldn't possibly be serious. He's looking around to see if anyone is witnessing this and to ensure that he isn't the butt of some practical joke. Would you walk into the bank and demand a teller help you and then appear completely lost as to why you wanted them? Would you call the police and then say, well it really isn't that important. You don't get to yell at someone in the service industry for not being timely when you in fact were not ready yourself. It's like yelling at the postal employee for being late with the mail when all that was to be delivered was junk mail.
Another way to look like an escaped mental patient is to approach the bar looking eager and when the bartender approaches you say with a smile so big it is nearly ripping your face, "I don't know what I feel like! Just make me something!!" The bartender reached down and put a bottle of beer in front of her as the smile slowly retracted into disappointment. "$2.50 Please." Bartenders are not street artists. They aren't going to take you in and create a cocktail inspired by you.
Next time, step back, take a deep breath, and be ready with your order when you yell at the bartender. If you aren't ready there's a guy that needs a Long Island in a Tall glass. At least he knows what he wants.
RULE: Know what you want to drink. Have a go-to back-up in case the bar doesn't carry what you want.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
How to get the bartender to hate you
People like to complain. They get told "no" all week long so when the weekend comes they all want to relax and unwind. And they want their night out to be perfect. Some people's expectations are far too high. I believe that some set their expectations so high so as to never have to tip. If they have something to complain about, they have justification for being cheap. One woman last week took the art of complaining to a whole new level.
She ordered a bottle of beer and asked for a glass to go with it. We have the beer that she ordered on tap, but bottles are cheaper. My first red flag. She managed to choke the beer down and when she ordered her second she told me she wanted an "icy" glass this time - that first beer was completely warm. Here's a tip - if something is wrong with your food or with your drink: tell your server right away. Don't eat half of it and then complain because it is too late to do anything about it. The server will think you are lying and you will be stuck with something you didn't enjoy. Back to the warm beer. Unfortunately our freezer that holds the mugs and martini glasses was broken that night. She took this as a personal attack on her as if I personally broke the cooler the moment I saw her walk down the stairs. She was disgusted - I knew this because she made a snorting sound at me as she crinkled up her face and turned away from me as she said, "Make sure the next bottle is at least cold then." I nearly laughed right at the back of her head - who was she kidding with this attitude?!? I was pretty sure she was not anyone famous or any world hero. Celebrities rarely wear denim jackets and have perms.
When I told the bartender he needed to dig deep and get a "cold" beer (because we pride ourselves on serving delicious warm beer) he responded with the reason I am able to stay sane. He grabbed a champagne bucket, filled it with ice and stuck a beer in it. We laughed about it, and I seriously debated on taking it to the table. A person with a sense of humor would have thought this was funny and it would have improved my tip. This lady would have created a scene and called me rude. The regulars sitting at the bar wanted to know what was going on, so I told them what and how the lady had talked to me.
Now you notice that while I was complaining, mocking, and goofing around, I wasn't grabbing the beer out of the cooler, popping it open and bringing it to her table. Her intention had the opposite result. She thought that if she made herself out to be someone who should not be messed with, she would get me to jump at her every request. But in fact, I didn't work harder to make her happy, I gave her my worst effort. She moved herself to the bottom of my priority list. If you want good service, making nice rather than making demands will get you farther.
I brought the beer, and asked her in my fake concerned voice if that beer was any better. She made a face, sighed, and said it would have to do. The couple decided that I had addressed her concerns so they would have to move the bar and terrorize the bartender. Now the bartender has listened to me complain about countless tables and my perception of them, so he assumed there was an element of exaggeration of my impersonation. She asked him for a tiny cup so he handed her a 1 ounce shot glass. She snapped, "Not that small!" at him with a snarl on her face. He actually jumped when she spoke to him because he didn't expect that reaction from her. It suddenly clicked that this was the woman I told him about. The guy that was with her ordered a Busch Light and the bartender suggested she try one of those since there was the arrow that tells you if the beer is cold. She cocked her head to the side and informed him that it wasn't an arrow on the bottle as if he had just told her that he pooped rainbows when he ate chicken.
It is times like this that I could freeze time and talk to this woman. I was dying to know why she was in such a bad mood. The guy with her was really friendly and nice and seemed to not even notice her tone. This led me to believe that this was not a mood but a character trait. What I wanted to know most of all is how often she felt she got "bad" service. I bet she would perceive that she always gets bad service. When you are completely unpleasant and complain, it makes it very difficult to go that extra mile. What is that extra mile? I overheard a girl say she had a headache so I brought her a bottle of ibuprofen from the bar with a water. I heard 2 girls talking about how the one girl's boyfriend broke up with her, so I brought them a free shot. Someone asks me nicely if they can move the tables for their party and I will get the bouncers to bring in extra tables and set up the whole thing from them. If you are rude, you can move the tables yourself, and if you need more, I'm afraid I'll just shrug and say I'll see what I can do (which means I am going to forget about you as soon as I walk away).
I am not saying that there are times when you shouldn't complain. People make mistakes. It is so much more how you say something than what you say. If you beer is warm and you would like a colder one just shrug apologetically and say, "I'm not trying to be difficult but this is really warm, is it possible to get a colder one?" That will most likely get what you want. If you feel like your weekend out is only measured as a success by complaining to the manager and getting something for free, please stay the hell away from me.
RULE: If you have to complain, choose your words, your tone, and body language carefully, it can get you a great night out.
She ordered a bottle of beer and asked for a glass to go with it. We have the beer that she ordered on tap, but bottles are cheaper. My first red flag. She managed to choke the beer down and when she ordered her second she told me she wanted an "icy" glass this time - that first beer was completely warm. Here's a tip - if something is wrong with your food or with your drink: tell your server right away. Don't eat half of it and then complain because it is too late to do anything about it. The server will think you are lying and you will be stuck with something you didn't enjoy. Back to the warm beer. Unfortunately our freezer that holds the mugs and martini glasses was broken that night. She took this as a personal attack on her as if I personally broke the cooler the moment I saw her walk down the stairs. She was disgusted - I knew this because she made a snorting sound at me as she crinkled up her face and turned away from me as she said, "Make sure the next bottle is at least cold then." I nearly laughed right at the back of her head - who was she kidding with this attitude?!? I was pretty sure she was not anyone famous or any world hero. Celebrities rarely wear denim jackets and have perms.
When I told the bartender he needed to dig deep and get a "cold" beer (because we pride ourselves on serving delicious warm beer) he responded with the reason I am able to stay sane. He grabbed a champagne bucket, filled it with ice and stuck a beer in it. We laughed about it, and I seriously debated on taking it to the table. A person with a sense of humor would have thought this was funny and it would have improved my tip. This lady would have created a scene and called me rude. The regulars sitting at the bar wanted to know what was going on, so I told them what and how the lady had talked to me.
Now you notice that while I was complaining, mocking, and goofing around, I wasn't grabbing the beer out of the cooler, popping it open and bringing it to her table. Her intention had the opposite result. She thought that if she made herself out to be someone who should not be messed with, she would get me to jump at her every request. But in fact, I didn't work harder to make her happy, I gave her my worst effort. She moved herself to the bottom of my priority list. If you want good service, making nice rather than making demands will get you farther.
I brought the beer, and asked her in my fake concerned voice if that beer was any better. She made a face, sighed, and said it would have to do. The couple decided that I had addressed her concerns so they would have to move the bar and terrorize the bartender. Now the bartender has listened to me complain about countless tables and my perception of them, so he assumed there was an element of exaggeration of my impersonation. She asked him for a tiny cup so he handed her a 1 ounce shot glass. She snapped, "Not that small!" at him with a snarl on her face. He actually jumped when she spoke to him because he didn't expect that reaction from her. It suddenly clicked that this was the woman I told him about. The guy that was with her ordered a Busch Light and the bartender suggested she try one of those since there was the arrow that tells you if the beer is cold. She cocked her head to the side and informed him that it wasn't an arrow on the bottle as if he had just told her that he pooped rainbows when he ate chicken.
It is times like this that I could freeze time and talk to this woman. I was dying to know why she was in such a bad mood. The guy with her was really friendly and nice and seemed to not even notice her tone. This led me to believe that this was not a mood but a character trait. What I wanted to know most of all is how often she felt she got "bad" service. I bet she would perceive that she always gets bad service. When you are completely unpleasant and complain, it makes it very difficult to go that extra mile. What is that extra mile? I overheard a girl say she had a headache so I brought her a bottle of ibuprofen from the bar with a water. I heard 2 girls talking about how the one girl's boyfriend broke up with her, so I brought them a free shot. Someone asks me nicely if they can move the tables for their party and I will get the bouncers to bring in extra tables and set up the whole thing from them. If you are rude, you can move the tables yourself, and if you need more, I'm afraid I'll just shrug and say I'll see what I can do (which means I am going to forget about you as soon as I walk away).
I am not saying that there are times when you shouldn't complain. People make mistakes. It is so much more how you say something than what you say. If you beer is warm and you would like a colder one just shrug apologetically and say, "I'm not trying to be difficult but this is really warm, is it possible to get a colder one?" That will most likely get what you want. If you feel like your weekend out is only measured as a success by complaining to the manager and getting something for free, please stay the hell away from me.
RULE: If you have to complain, choose your words, your tone, and body language carefully, it can get you a great night out.
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