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.
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