Monday, August 10, 2009

Fun Times at the Bar and a lesson to all about bar etiquette

To tone down my previous emo blog, here's a fun little read.

I was bartender on Saturday night for a small wedding and did quite well with it on tips. Enough to last me a couple lunches for the next two weeks. I spent the entire evening shaking up my version of a Sex on the Beach mixed drink and dunking my fingers into cherries, as it is what I use as garnish for that particular drink. So when I got home that night, my fingers were stained red.

Interesting times.

Apparently Sex on the Beach was quite popular. I don't know how many times I'd made the drink the entire night, but I know that it should have been a little over fifty of them, or more, even. Otherwise, there were sparse requests for "what kind of shots do you know how to make?" of which the answer was, "I'm sorry, I really don't know any fun shots." And then there was the usual, rum and cokes, vodka cranberries, and a mostly import beer.

I have to admit that I like bartending. It's fun... but I don't like socializing. It requires a certain type of skill that I don't have. It's called talking to people, randomly, with smiles, and without being a bore. I'm not good at that. I can barely talk to my own friends with smiles and without being a bore. But it's okay, because I'm not trying to sell THEM anything or trying to earn tips from them.

But anyway, the night was quite fruitful. When people get drunk enough, they really probably don't care that their bartender is scowling or frowning. They just see the liquor. Quite awesome.

On a side note, I about got pummelled by a 27 year old woman who took great offense at the fact that I needed to see her ID to confirm that she was indeed old enough to drink. She threw a fit. She went to her husband and she demanded that we overlook it. Her husband tried to vouch for her, but you know, a policy is a policy.

"But she's my wife and she's twenty-seven," he insisted.

"Tell them," she urged, practically pouting. I could almost see steam coming out of her ears and her face turning red.

We could only continue to say, "If you don't have your ID, we can't serve you. Sorry."

Begrudgingly, she left the room so that she could go and get her driver's liscence from her car. She was not happy and when she returned, she practically shoved the ID in my face like I was her mortal enemy.

My boss kept telling me that when she returned, I'd have to apologize profusely and simply repeat that we have to card everyone and that it's actually a compliment to be carded. I simply nodded, but conveniently forgot to apologize for asking for her ID.

You come to a bar and want a drink. You look rather young, it's a given that you'll get carded. I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. At least four other women were extremely ecstatic that I carded them and thanked me and tipped me big for it.

For anyone out there who don't understand or who like to make problems for bartenders, please don't. You don't know how much is left in the bartender's responsibility, both morally and legally. If someone underage is being served, it's the bartender's fault-- and it doesn't matter whether or not the bartender had served that underage person in the first place. It could have been a hand-off from someone else who was old enough to procure the alcoholic beverage for said minor.

If there is an accident involving alcohol, the bartender who last served that person is legally at fault. Because a bartender is morally bound to know when to stop serving their extremely inebriated customers. Again, it doesn't matter if someone else came to the bartender to buy a drink and then followed by handing it over to the already 0.45 BAC, completely drunk individual.

The bartender has been told that he/she is morally obligated to make the right decision when serving customers.

It's not fair. I don't like it. You can't control other people. But the burden always comes back to the bartender.

So I implore people: if you are asked for you ID at any place that serves alcohol, don't get offended. It's not to make things hard on you, it's policy and its the law. You can call it a means to save our own asses under legal obligation because it really is. Take it as a compliment. We are subject to ask for identification if someone does not look like he or she is over the age of thirty. If you are asked for your ID, then that means you look young enough to get carded.

I'm twenty-five years old. When I don't get carded, that's when I get offended... but only playfully.

Please don't make things any harder. Don't shoot the messenger. Legal dealings and actions are at stake. We are only doing our jobs.

Secondly, don't keep pestering the bartender about adding "just a little more alcohol" to your drink. Depending on the place, a company policy may or may not be controlling how much alocohol is mixed into a drink, depending on how much it is worth to the company. If we give you more, we get in trouble and the extra money has to come out of our own pockets. If you want a double shot, be willing to pay for the extra shot. If you think the alcohol is too expensive, then don't buy any.

In hospitality, we work to appease, but only within reason.

In summary:

When you are carded, don't get offended and don't take out your anger on the person carding you. It's a compliment. I'm always ready to be carded. And who comes up to a bar without ID anyway-- I don't think the laws have changed just because you're at a hotel and you're attending a friend's wedding. Bars card everywhere.

When you go to a bar, don't pester the bartender... remmeber who's mixing your drink.

To add onto it... we don't tell you how to run your life, so don't tell us how to do our jobs. We are trained.

And while I'm on the subject, sneaking alcohol into a bar has always been a no-no. You don't go to a restaurant and bring your own food, so don't come into a bar and bring your own alcohol. What's the point?

I especially love the ones who bring their own cans of Bud Light when there is free beer at the bar. At those, I really just laugh. Funny people.

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