The View From The Other Side
I've recounted this to a few of you, but I think it bears posting in public...
On Thursday I was called upon to perform a service for the LEO Weekly, the newspaper that I do marketing and PR for. They were having their yearly gala Readers Choice cocktail party/charity fundraiser, and at the last minute they needed bartenders. They didn't need real bartenders who could make a Mai Tai or a Harvey Wallbanger. All of the alcohol had been donated by various brands and so we would just have to mix one or two kinds of alcohol all night. I was confident that I could do that so I signed up.
I was stationed at the Bacardi bar. We had three kinds of Bacardi: Plain, Apple, and Melon. We were making mojitos (from a bottle full of mixer stuff) with the Plain Bacardi, Apple-Cranberry Cocktails with the Apple, and a disgustingly sweet Melon-Sprite combo with the Melon that tasted just like those Jolly Rancher candies we all ate as kids. By the way, all of this was open bar, so no one had to pay for their drinks.
Anyway, the point of the story is that for the first time in my life, I was behind the bar. The event started at 7pm and went until midnight. I had a co-bartendress, Marina, and she and I diligently set the bar up as pleasingly as possible. We had Bacardi Mardi Gras beads to give out, and glow-stick bracelets, and plastic souvenir Bacardi cups. We were allowed to drink, but not get drunk. We were sorry about that last part as the night went on.
By 7:30 we were pouring drinks and discussing the merits of the various Bacardi flavors.
By 10:00pm, I was fending off the advances of drunken 20-something sorority girls who wanted to "do a shot" with me, I was draping multiple strands of beads over drunken frat boys, I was telling people that even though glow-sticks were so '95 they were still cool for putting them down the front of their pants or wearing them in their hair.
By 11:30 pm I was wearily giving anyone who came to my bar any alcohol I had left and mixing it with whatever I had left. Or with nothing. I actually gave one guy a bottle that was a third full of Apple Rum just so he would go away.
In short, I got to deal with Me.
I got to see how I had looked over the years to all of those bartenders in San Diego and Salt Lake and Chicago and every place I have ever traveled.
I got to see how it looks to be the one that won't go home as long there is a free drink to be had, even though the party has been over for a long, long time.
But you know, it wasn't all that bad. It was kinda cool to have a local rocker boy who was young enough to be my son come up to me, grab my hand and say "Dude, you are the coolest, let's do a shot!". It was fun to talk to people who were so drunk that they just blurted out whatever was on their mind at the time. I learned a lot of secrets on Thursday.
But all in all, I don't think I want to be a bartender. Do you guys remember when I thought that would be fun? I was wrong.
It was a nice night, but definitely not a career. If I have to choose, I prefer to be the guy who is begging for the last leftover alcohol and has to be helped into a cab.
Trust me, as ugly as that sounds, it is better than having to help clean up after the lights come on.
On Thursday I was called upon to perform a service for the LEO Weekly, the newspaper that I do marketing and PR for. They were having their yearly gala Readers Choice cocktail party/charity fundraiser, and at the last minute they needed bartenders. They didn't need real bartenders who could make a Mai Tai or a Harvey Wallbanger. All of the alcohol had been donated by various brands and so we would just have to mix one or two kinds of alcohol all night. I was confident that I could do that so I signed up.
I was stationed at the Bacardi bar. We had three kinds of Bacardi: Plain, Apple, and Melon. We were making mojitos (from a bottle full of mixer stuff) with the Plain Bacardi, Apple-Cranberry Cocktails with the Apple, and a disgustingly sweet Melon-Sprite combo with the Melon that tasted just like those Jolly Rancher candies we all ate as kids. By the way, all of this was open bar, so no one had to pay for their drinks.
Anyway, the point of the story is that for the first time in my life, I was behind the bar. The event started at 7pm and went until midnight. I had a co-bartendress, Marina, and she and I diligently set the bar up as pleasingly as possible. We had Bacardi Mardi Gras beads to give out, and glow-stick bracelets, and plastic souvenir Bacardi cups. We were allowed to drink, but not get drunk. We were sorry about that last part as the night went on.
By 7:30 we were pouring drinks and discussing the merits of the various Bacardi flavors.
By 10:00pm, I was fending off the advances of drunken 20-something sorority girls who wanted to "do a shot" with me, I was draping multiple strands of beads over drunken frat boys, I was telling people that even though glow-sticks were so '95 they were still cool for putting them down the front of their pants or wearing them in their hair.
By 11:30 pm I was wearily giving anyone who came to my bar any alcohol I had left and mixing it with whatever I had left. Or with nothing. I actually gave one guy a bottle that was a third full of Apple Rum just so he would go away.
In short, I got to deal with Me.
I got to see how I had looked over the years to all of those bartenders in San Diego and Salt Lake and Chicago and every place I have ever traveled.
I got to see how it looks to be the one that won't go home as long there is a free drink to be had, even though the party has been over for a long, long time.
But you know, it wasn't all that bad. It was kinda cool to have a local rocker boy who was young enough to be my son come up to me, grab my hand and say "Dude, you are the coolest, let's do a shot!". It was fun to talk to people who were so drunk that they just blurted out whatever was on their mind at the time. I learned a lot of secrets on Thursday.
But all in all, I don't think I want to be a bartender. Do you guys remember when I thought that would be fun? I was wrong.
It was a nice night, but definitely not a career. If I have to choose, I prefer to be the guy who is begging for the last leftover alcohol and has to be helped into a cab.
Trust me, as ugly as that sounds, it is better than having to help clean up after the lights come on.
posted by Greg at 12:36 AM
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