Posts Tagged ‘bar staff’

Hops and Heat 2016

June 3, 2016

Do you like eating food that makes you sweat profusely and turn red? Do you like crying during your meal? Do you enjoy washing fuck your face spicy dishes down with freshly made IPA’s brewed by some of the most talented brewers in the world? If you answered “fuck yeah!” to any or all of those questions, then you are in luck. Hops and Heat 2016 is here and as a result your life is now complete.

Saturday June 11 at Churchill’s Pub and Grille is the third installment of Hops and Heat one of our three annual craft beer and craft food events. Chef AG Warfield and his staff of lunatics created this event after a day of binge drinking, chicken fighting and chili cooking. One of Chef Warfield’s flunkies made a chili with a shit ton of ghost peppers in it rendering it nearly inedible.

After a few too many pints by all, the young cook challenged Chef Warfield to eat a certain amount of his melt your flesh chili. Money was wagered and beers were poured. Chef Warfield crushed the chili in between sips from a fresh batch of Team Freeman Brewing’s latest IPA. The pain of the chili was excruciating to palate, but the deliciousness of the IPA made it briefly blissful. This bliss was immediately replaced with horrific pain. Chef Warfield won the money but might have lost the fight.

The next morning while still feeling the awful after effects of what he ate Chef Warfield was inspired. He wanted to bring that moment of bliss to you, the general drunken public. More than that bliss though he wished to inflict the blinding pain he felt on paying customers. Hence Hops and Heat was born. It’s the one day a year we can actually guarantee you will regret coming into the pub.

The beers will be some of the most hoppy IPA’s you have ever tasted, including a few the Churchill’s Pub and Grille staff was fortunate enough to help brew: Artifex “Sober in the Morning”, Mother Earth “Sinister Prime Minister” and Pizza Port Carlsbad “They Gon”. We will also be tapping in oldies but still very goodies like Russian River “Blind Pig” and “Pliny the Elder”.

Two of our full time favorites Societe “The Pupil” and Bear Republic “Churchill’s X” will also be on in addition to 35 of the best IPA’s you can get anywhere, ever all being poured alongside each other. From Bend, Oregon to Kalamazoo, Michigan we challenge breweries participating to produce their best IPAs and they gladly deliver. Several of the brewers will be in attendance on Saturday sharing pints and plates of spicy food.

The food is broken down in three categories: Bitten which is damn that’s hot, infected which is why am I doing this to myself? and the Undead which might kill you but if it does you will rise from the dead to roam the earth.

If you have ever eaten at Churchill’s then you know how tight our Chile Popper game is. Saturday a new height will be reached. How about a jalapeno stuffed with a ghost pepper stuffed with a Carolina Reaper, habanero cheese and bacon that’s then battered and deep fried? It’s the start of shark attack season so to help kick that off we will be serving mako shark seasoned with Caribbean Green spice topped with jalapeno slaw and habanero aioli on a ciabatta bun.

Then there’s The Devil’s Short Ribs. Beef short ribs prepared with Carolina Reapers and Ghost peppers with Tabasco mash and root vegetables topped with a chipotle chocolate sauce. The food isn’t just hot it is delicious. That is where we get you. You want to stop eating; you have to stop eating but you can’t because the flavor is just too good.

Hops and Heat 2016 is Saturday June 11 at Churchill’s Pub and Grille. Get ready for the best IPA’s paired with the tastiest, spiciest food you are going to find anywhere. You aren’t dealing with some over glorified line cooks here. We are professionals and take our heat very seriously. I look forward to watching you, the general drunken public burn and then ask for more. “Yes sir, here is that glass of milk you just offered to suck my dick for. That will be ten dollars.”

 

 

 

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Review Evolution

May 17, 2016

There is a four letter website out there that stands for everything that is wrong with social media. This website allows any asshole with a cell phone to spew hate filled reviews attacking people in the service industry because they are upset that there is no Amber Ale on tap. They seem to have no control over what slanderous rhetoric its users post. Anyone who has ever waited or bussed a table, tended bar, been a floor or general manager or worked the door as a security guard will tell you that 90% of what you read on this website is bullshit usually made up by a user under the influence of alcohol. I understand that speech is free in this country but personally attacking an employee of an establishment you patronize, while drunk and recently ejected, does not equate to freedom of speech in my mind.

I have so many negative reviews about me that it is impossible to count. I have been called both racist and sexist on this site. I have been accused of being a pathetic little man drunk with the power of running a restaurant on this site. I have been referred to as a shameless prick who inexcusably backs his staff on this site. One time some schmuck actually posted a picture of a dog taking a shit and had the nerve to compare me to the pile of dung on this site.

Mind you these nasty things have been written about me because I was just trying to do my job. When was the last time something that happened at your job got blasted out on the internet with the express purpose of making you look like a jackass? Think hard. For me it’s much easier to recall because it happens every several months. If you want to pull me aside and say these awful things to my face that’s fine. It most likely won’t end well but one way or another it will end. Don’t be a coward and run to your laptop or tablet and blatantly make shit up that threatens my livelihood. Once it goes up on this site it is there for the public to read and now not just one person thinks I am all these awful things but the entire world is encouraged to make the same rash judgement.

So, you say to me, “It’s just a silly little website. Nobody cares that much about what is written there. Readers are smart enough to decipher the legitimate reviews versus the bullshit ones.”  First of all, the people who use this site are not that smart. Trust me I deal with them on a daily basis. If they were in a spelling bee versus a stack of bricks I’m taking the bricks, big time. Second of all people do care. I have seen people cry after reading a nasty review that was written about them. I’ve met people in this industry who have lost their job because they got too many bad reviews most of which were bullshit. If people didn’t care what was written on this shitbag site then certain restaurants wouldn’t discount customers who write five star reviews about them.

I have been in or around the restaurant business for 20 plus years and have been in the craft beer industry the last ten and what I have found is that people in this industry care about what they do, a lot. This is a career not some summer job motherfucker and every day I go to work I try to be better than I was the day before. When things don’t go well I lose sleep or drink to excess usually both. When my teammates have a bad day I feel it, because I care about them too. We work long hours on our feet trying extremely hard to provide our patrons with stellar product and service.

To do all that and then have some punk ass permanently stoned college hipster or some Quaalude popping soccer mom who have never waited a table in their life tell the internet that I suck at my job is something I am no longer able to just sit here and take. In fact, a very good friend of mine and I are going to open a restaurant for all these expert reviewers of a business they have never been employed in and it’s going to be called “Go Fuck Yourself” (patent pending). That way when they don’t like how things go down in our house they can reference the sign on the front door.

Service industry people unite. They want to write about us then let’s write about them. There is a website called GULPU.com™ coming to you soon. It’s our site to talk about how awful they are. For now, get stress off your chest with us at https://www.facebook.com/GULPU/

That way the next time some redneck with dip spit dribbling down his chin tries to fight you because you wouldn’t serve his pregnant girlfriend alcohol the real story will be heard too. Oh yeah, I almost forgot “Fuck Yelp”.

The Leprechaun Man

March 15, 2013

Last week was Churchill’s Renaissance, an event that was described as “The Greatest Fucking Party No One Can Remember” by Hollywood Movie Star Kevin Bacon. Jordan Wilson compiled the greatest beer lineup in the history of human civilization and the wide variety of beers allowed everyone a chance to taste even the most sought after brews such as Stone Original and Barrel Aged Shiner Bock no matter what time they arrived. AG Warfield and his star kitchen staff executed a menu so tasty that Chef AG was offered seventeen virgins to leave Churchill’s and become the private chef of some Arabian Prince who just happened by the pub that day for a deep fried PB&J.

The bar and wait staff were pushed to the brink of breaking but in the face of a line of nearly 800 people they stepped up and I can proudly say that they are the best restaurant staff in the world. Despite the overwhelming amount of food and beer starved patrons at Churchill’s Renaissance, the beers and food flew out at the speed of lightning. The two top selling beers that day were Bear Republic’s Churchill X and Mother Earth’s Wins-ten Decade Double IPA which was fitting since both were made and released specifically for publican Ivan Derezin’s 10 year anniversary as owner of Churchill’s.

While the crowd at Renaissance was for the most part sophisticated and responsible this upcoming Sunday promises to be the shit show of the century. That’s right; Sunday, March 17 is St. Patrick’s Day known to those in the industry as amateur asshole day. I personally love St. Patty’s Day. Since there are so many dickbags who have no intention of ever frequenting our bar again I can be as big of an asshole as I want to be with very few repercussions.

This year’s St. Patty’s Day is special to me personally because I was recently described on a certain four letter website I legally can’t name as The Leprechaun Man by some common street walker who was angry I wouldn’t let her smoke her e-cigarette in the middle of my dining room. At first I was deeply offended, but then I remembered that the source of this review was a diseased skankbag who clearly would die soon hopefully in some horribly painful scenario.

Instead of firebombing her spot at the trailer park I have decided to embrace this whore’s review. That’s why to help celebrate alcohol’s favorite holiday we will be offering $3 Leprechaun Man shots. The recipe I used to make The Leprechaun Man shot contains the blood of a real leprechaun I hunted, tortured and killed with my own bare hands. In addition to $3 Leprechaun Man shots we will be selling $3 pints of Green Stone Bro. This is a special variation of local craft beer emperor Stone Brewing’s most popular beer. To honor both the Pub and St. Patty’s Day our good friends over at Stone whipped up this special and colorful batch of Stone Bro just for Churchill’s and it will only be available this Sunday.

My favorite St Patty’s Day tradition is dressing up as a leprechaun, wielding a gold shillelagh and mingling with you, the general drunken public. While walking amongst the masses of green clad and Guinness guzzling freaks sounds awful it is the highlight of my year. That’s because I am doing so not to hang out with these Jameson drenched animals but to regulate upon them. If my golden shillelagh happens upon your shoulder that means it’s time for you to leave, immediately. Any opposition to the shillelagh tap might result in one of the large men standing right behind me to start breaking some fucking legs.

When I say we have zero tolerance on dipshit behavior on St. Patty’s Day I sincerely mean it. Last year our douche bag alert level reached red which according to my George W. Bush terrorist threat manual means we are fucked. To combat this dangerous situation I began shillegh tapping people for almost no reason at all in an effort to try to flush out the disturbing amount of douche bags. I gave one guy the boot for wearing a low cut v-neck “Blow Me I’m Irish” tee-shirt because it exposed the Dave Matthews lyrics he had tattooed across his chest.

This St. Patty’s day promises to be no different so make sure to be on your best behavior or run the risk of the wrath of The Leprechaun Man. Treat each other, our staff, and the pub with respect and you will have nothing to worry about. Those that don’t follow these guidelines will find out what it feels like to get bounced from a bar you just waited an hour to enter in less than seven minutes because you thought it would be funny to whistle at a bartender. That tapping you feel on your shoulder means your options are slim and grim and I suggest you stumble along to a bar that gives a shit that you took the time to dye your hair green just for today.

Churchill’s Renaissance IV

March 1, 2013

March 2nd 2013 promises to be the greatest day in the history of beer. At 11 am tomorrow Churchill’s Renaissance IV, A New Hope, begins and this year’s installation will prove itself to be the greatest craft beer and food festival San Diego has ever seen. Now, for my money that means Churchill’s Renaissance IV will be the greatest craft beer and food festival in the history of the entire world.

This year’s Renaissance marks the ten year anniversary of publican Ivan Derezin’s hostile takeover of the pub. Under his watch it has transformed from a back alley rug munching swingers bar into the premier craft beer and food pub anywhere. To honor this momentous event Derezin and his staff have devoted themselves to making Churchill’s Renaissance IV the greatest party that you, the general drunken public, has ever had the pleasure of getting shit faced at.

Our draft lineup tomorrow is being hailed as the greatest assortment of craft beer ever offered anywhere. Certifiable Craft Beer Connoisseur Jordan Wilson has done a lot of things he will most likely live to regret to put together such a rare collection of beers. Two of the highlights of this year’s lineup are Bear Republic’s Churchill X IPA and Mother Earth’s Winsten Tenth Anniversary DIPA both of which are being released for the first time anywhere tomorrow.

Last year’s line began at 3:10 am Saturday morning, seven hours and fifty minutes before the pub even opened. As I write this it is 3:24 am Friday morning and this year’s line has already begun. I left the pub forty five minutes ago and saw the first Finest Hour fanatics huddled around fires heating up cold cans of cream of corn as they anxiously awaited Saturday morning to arrive.

These dedicated people will be awarded with not just first choice of the fine beer but also of the amazing craft food we will be offering that day. Mix Master Chef AG Warfield has done the impossible. He has crafted a food menu that rivals our amazing beer menu. When you taste one dish you will want to taste them all. I suggest you bring a belt with seventeen extra notches because once you start eating AGIII’s food you won’t ever want to stop.

Serving this amazing beer and food will be Churchill’s crack staff of craft experts who were voted Best Looking Restaurant Staff for 2012 in this year’s restaurant edition of Penthouse. We are all going to be working extremely hard on Renaissance and will all at one point either be on the verge of freaking out or actually freaking out. So please remember your manners and understand when 850 people show up at a pub all wanting the same thing drinks and food might take a little bit longer than usual to come out.

If you would really like to help us speed up service I highly recommend that you walk through our doors already knowing exactly what it is you want to drink. That means when you approach the bar do so with your first round ready to be ordered. When faced with a bar that is ten deep and a server ticket printer churning out 200 tickets a minute I have no time for you to try to think about what you are ordering. When I ask you what you want if you hesitate for even a half second I will be gone faster than I appeared.

People who are prepared and able to order four beers not by style and not by brewery but by the actual name of the beer will easily get everything they want all day long. Another suggestion is once you have ordered, instead of watching me weave in and out of my equally insanely busy bar mates please pull out your method of payment. Having your cash and credit card ready saves us all precious seconds and allows me to move on to the next customer craving my attention. Trust me your fellow drunk will thank you.

While this all may sound intimidating don’t fear because despite the massive crowd, overworked staff and the possibility of vomit around every corner Churchill’s Renaissance IV will be the most fun you’ve had since you lost your virginity. So get those tents ready because the madness has already begun and if you have any chance of getting a coveted pour off the last keg of 2012 Stone Bro in existence I suggest you get in line an hour ago.

The Bad Bartender Chronicles IV

August 4, 2012

There is a disturbing new breed of so-called bartenders that was first discovered in North Park and parts of Los Angeles but now seem to be plaguing once respectable bars everywhere. They call themselves mixologists because they claim to make a superior cocktail that requires mixing a bunch of random shit together to make fifteen dollar drinks that take forty five minutes to serve. Some would call these mixologists skilled craftsmen while others might refer to them as flaming douchebags. I would fall in line with the latter as a bartender who doesn’t have such a vast knowledge of the four hundred different uses of the juniper berry.

I like to call these masters of the mojito Cosmetic Bartenders because they always look good but when you peer beyond their physical makeup you will find a gross lack of efficiency. Cosmetic Bartenders dress in tuxedo gear without the jackets. Rolled sleeves expose any barbed wire tattoos they might have gotten when they were nineteen. Their hair and adjustable mustaches will be overly greased with ozone depleting hair gel.

What’s strange is that dive bars seem to be a large part of the Cosmetic Bartender plague. The only place for a tuxedo behind a bar is a wedding or four star dining. There is something extremely wrong if you are wearing a tuxedo as you work behind a bar that still reeks of whatever liquor was spilled the night before. That’s like having a restroom attendant hand out mints in a bathroom covered in vomit.

At the end of the day as long as I get my drink poured strong and in a timely fashion I don’t give a shit what the person serving it is wearing. Unfortunately, most of the stuff these Cosmetic Bartenders specialize in takes twenty minutes to prepare. This is for two reasons. The first is there are many ingredients that all seem to require a special process. All their recipes require stuff that needs to be muddled or needs flavor strands extracted from them. They also shave their own ice which is a complete waste of time if you work somewhere lucky enough to have an ice scoop and an ice machine.

The second reason it takes so long to get a drink from a Cosmetic Bartender is because they do not possess any sense of urgency behind the bar. They are too busy concocting new ways to make whiskey not taste like whiskey to hustle like most hard working bartenders. To a Cosmetic Bartender looking good and making a colorful drink takes precedent over providing speedy and efficient customer service.

I once overheard a Cosmetic Bartender brag about how he could make a mojito in just twelve minutes. That’s right, one drink takes twelve minutes and they consider that fast. I can make twenty four drinks in twelve minutes and my well crafted mai tai will take fifteen seconds and taste just as refreshing as any drink that requires the blood of a virgin to make. I like serving lots of people quickly and competently rather than wasting my time trying to re-invent the art of pouring liquor.

Perhaps the only people who hate Cosmetic Bartenders more than me are their bar backs. Imagine that every drink made at a busy bar requires a shaker, spoons, knives, muddlers, three types of glasses, a blender and a jigger. Guess who gets to clean all that? It’s the bar backs. So while these well dressed monkeys mix their twenty minute drinks as casually as one would walk along the beach, their poor bar backs are trying to keep a bar stocked where employees use more glasses than customers do.

Bar owners deserve some of the blame of this return to those glorious days of speakeasies and gentlemen bartenders. If you encourage your bartenders to take as much time as possible to mix a twelve dollar drink then you deserve to go out of business. Any good bar operates on the idea that the more drinks you sell the more money you make. When it takes a combined half hour to get two measly drinks then people begin to grow bored with the fancy appeal that these specialty concoctions offer.

There is a large customer demand amongst females for Cosmetic Bartenders which is another influencing factor in this annoying phenomenon.  I believe this is a cry for attention by the fairer sex. Where else is a man going to spend twenty minutes catering to a woman’s every desire by crafting something specifically for them while all they have to do is sit and watch?

Anyone willing to wait the twenty minutes it takes to make an allegedly perfect cocktail absolutely has my support as long as you realize that Cosmetic Bartending doesn’t exist at every bar in the country. What that means is don’t walk into an English pub and order a single plum floating in perfume served in a man’s hat and not expect to be met with laughter and possible ridicule.

BUY MY BOOK LOVE LIFE BY CLICKING ON THE LOVE LIFE LINK UP AND TO THE RIGHT FROM HERE!

You’re 86ed!

June 17, 2012

It takes a special kind of dirt bag to get 86ed from a bar. It is the highest level of bar discipline there is. First you get cut off, then you get kicked out, but to be 86ed means you went below and beyond the worst of human behavior. Getting 86ed requires more than simply falling out of a stool or vomiting in a plant. You have to reach an extreme level of douchebaggery to receive a lifetime ban. With 81 unassisted 86ing’s on my stat sheet I would like to share my expertise on the subject so that you can avoid ever being banned from a bar for life.

First of all never swing first. What that means is if you don’t instigate a fight a fight usually won’t find you. I have found that people who get into bar fights go out looking for them. There are guys out there who believe that fighting is a way to solve simple bar disagreements. They suck down countless vodka red bulls and then have two options; have a heart attack or start a fight. I prefer they choose the first option but they never seem to.

Fights are bad for business and are a serious buzzkill. People get hurt; girls start screaming and most of the time the cops show up. Pain, female screaming and the police aren’t exactly my idea of a party. If they are yours you won’t last long at my bar. Starting a fight is an automatic 86ing and if you happen to hit my door guy he is likely to break your fucking legs so that you have to crawl to whatever bar you plan on starting shit at next.

In some cases where fights are involved the instigator isn’t the only one to be 86ed. If you get in the way or ignore our attempts at breaking up a fight you will be 86ed. If you escalate the fight to a higher level of violence, like say cracking a pool cue over a guy’s head, not only will you be 86ed, you will also be billed for a new pool cue.

In order to be welcomed back to a bar you must respect that bar and its policies. The most important policy a bar must uphold is to not sell alcohol to minors. If a bar or one of its employees get caught doing so they can be fined, lose their liquor license or can even be arrested.  That’s why if you come into my bar with a minor and try to sneak them drinks you will be 86ed.

I work with an elite staff that take their jobs very seriously and are damn good at them. No matter how sneaky you think you are being we will always catch you. We are smart enough to know that those two shots you claimed are “both for me bro” aren’t, and as soon as you walk away you are on immediate watch. At that point it is only a matter of time before we bounce both you and the sixteen year-old girl you passed that second shot off to. If you want to get a minor wasted do it at home like a normal parent or older brother or statutory rapist.

In addition to respecting bar policies it is important to treat the bar staff with that same level of respect. We are here to help you have a good time so don’t fuck with us. Bar employees have to put up with a lot of shit but crossing certain lines will absolutely get you 86ed. The second you throw a shot glass or a handful of fruit at me you will be 86ed. If you decide to talk shit about me or one of my fellow bar employees or even the bar at which I work you will be 86ed. If you threaten to break a bar stool over my head because I cut you off you will be 86ed.

Sexually harassing bar employees is the easiest way to get yourself banned from a bar for life. Whether it’s a hungry pack of Human Female Hyenas molesting a defenseless bar back or a group of frat boys hounding an innocent hostess any unwanted and aggressive come on that crosses the line will get you 86ed. That means no touching us, ever. This rule mainly applies to female employees. The second your hand grabs the ass or breast of a female employee you will be lucky to leave with that limb still attached to your body.

There doesn’t necessarily need to be a specific reason for 86ing someone. Over time the accumulation of minor infractions can add up to getting a repeat offender of bar policy 86ed for no reason at all. If you are repeatedly rude, disrespectful, don’t tip, and are hated by regulars and employees then you will be banned from every decent bar you ever frequent. It eventually gets to the point where it is so evident what a dickbag a certain individual is that I may 86 them simply for saying hello.

People who get 86ed always seem to try to come back. Not just once, but multiple times. No matter how many times you try to explain to someone they are 86ed they never seem to grasp that it is for life. There is no getting un-86ed once the final verdict has been handed down. All appeals will fall on deaf ears. Making excuses or apologizing or begging is not going to undo what ever asinine act got you 86ed in the first place. My advice to anyone I’ve ever 86ed is to save your time and your breath and find some other bar to act like an asshole at.

The Bad Bartender Chronicles III

May 12, 2012

With modern technology cell phones have come a long way. Devices that used to be dedicated to just phone conversations have evolved into mini computers that allow people to avoid human contact with other people for weeks at a time. These hi-tech phones also allow people to ignore each other in a blatant manner under the guise of being busy on one’s phone. This has especially become rampant in the bar business where it seems bartenders feel like they need to constantly have their cell phone within arm’s reach.

I understand there are special circumstances. People have kids and sick loved ones and gambling problems and in the event of an emergency may need to leave the bar to take a call. However, nowadays people normally want their phone around in case they think of something witty to post on twitter or want to leave a comment on facebook every time they think of a new way to pour a cactus cooler or because they are engrossed in a new app they just downloaded that tells them what kind of panties a girl is wearing as she walks by.

There is nothing more frustrating than walking into a bar with a strong thirst for a pint and upon sitting down seeing a bartender with his back to the bar. Upon further inspection, you see that he is standing in front of the register and briefly you forgive him for breaking this golden rule of bartending. After almost a minute it becomes evident that there is no transaction being processed through the register. You peer down the bar and see that there are five people waiting all with empty glasses. The music is loud but even over it you can hear the bartender give out a chuckle. You move down a few stools for a better view and see that the bartender is too busy on his phone texting to even know that you want a drink. If you ever witness this leave whatever establishment you are at immediately.

The internet in the palm of one’s hand can be very distracting. Some people feel as if armed with this power of information they are able to answer any question or issue thrown their way. Bars have long been a place of great debate. The key to winning most debates are facts and what used to be found in dictionaries, sports almanacs and classic issues of playboy can now be found in modern day cell phones.

Of course there is always the guy who believes his fancy phone can find any piece of information no matter how obscure or asinine the fact faster than anyone else, anywhere. He wears his phone on his hip ready for any software duel. As always there is a regular game for the challenge. They draw their phones and race to find out what 1980’s movie featured the Paul Simon song that just finished playing on the jukebox.  I watch from my side of the bar as the bartender leans both elbows on the bar top as he furiously types his way through countless pages of 1980’s movie trivia. Once my glass of whiskey goes without for five minutes or more my patience wears out and I leave, never return to such a place.

A cell phone’s original purpose, once again, was to be a mobile device people could have phone conversations on. Even that most simple function of a cell phone shouldn’t be used when one is working behind the bar. Only two results can come from this, either people are going to be rudely ignored or receive shitty and absent-minded service.

For example take the girl who will continue to serve people while chatting away on the phone. You’ve seen her before. She prances around the bar mis-pouring drinks because she is only half listening to orders while the other half of her half a brain is listening to whoever is on the other side of her cell phone. It’s even worse when after fucking up she apologizes, covers the mouthpiece of the phone and mouths the words “my boss” to you. For some reason she thinks this makes it okay. If this statement is actually true then it makes me wonder why the fuck am I spending money at a bar owned by someone dumb enough to condone such behavior in their business.

The other girl will just stare at you while she talks on her phone. It is apparent whatever conversation she is holding is far more important than getting me drunk, making herself and the bar money or most simply doing her fucking job. Whether she is laughing or feigning sadness to whoever is rambling in her ear, her lack of common sense is never lost on me. Then, when I try to engage her in a last ditch effort to get my drink on, she sticks a bony smoke stained finger with a hot pink painted nail in my face signaling for me to hold on. You are supposed to put phones on hold, not people. As soon as that finger finds its way somewhere near my face I fight the urge to snap it and simply just leave.

To all the bartenders out there who are going to read this and say, “Hey bro, what’s the big deal?” I say you are in a business where making a lot of money is directly related to the happiness of the people you are serving. Talking to your boss because he or she believes they are more important than their customers means the bar they own won’t be in business much longer. Texting your friend that you can’t wait to get off work so you can get drunk is not going to put money in your tip bucket. Twittering every five minutes to keep your four followers informed on exactly what you are doing at all times is only going to leave you with an empty bar. Most importantly, to all be warned that the next time I see a bartender using their cell phone behind the bar I am going to snatch it and stuff it in a very dark place. I encourage you, the general drunken public, to do the same.

 

 

The Whistle Won’t Work

April 14, 2012

There is a special place in hell for anyone disrespectful enough to whistle at a bartender in an attempt to get their attention. In fact I believe that in this unique corner of hell those culprits who have been caught whistling rudely in their past are forced to watch repeat episodes of American Idol on full blast with hourly intervals of random Stained songs that get pumped through a musical catheter of sorts injecting depressing, repetitive, shitty music into their bodies via their private parts.

When I walk my dog I usually let him off the leash so that he may shit and piss freely. If he runs off or is hidden behind a bush I will on occasion whistle in an attempt to get him to come back to me. It works great on a dog because they are simple creatures who can’t necessarily comprehend words, so loud noises are one of the few ways to communicate with them.

Bartenders are not dogs. Therefore just because your Bud Light bottle is empty doesn’t give you the right to treat them like one. Believe me “bro” you waiting an extra twenty seconds to get a fresh bottle of domestic piss won’t kill you but whistling at a bartender might. We are a prideful bunch who put up with a lot of shit on a nightly basis and if you whistle at the wrong grumpy English bartender on a day that his favorite football team has lost to a girl’s high school soccer team it may prove to be the last thing you do on this earth.

The sound of a whistling drunk can make your skin crawl and when it is directed at you the urge to kill can be overwhelming. You must fight this urge with every bone in your body. Murder is the easy way out for both of you. Anyone ignorant enough to whistle at a bartender must be scolded and punished in a loud enough manner to embarrass them in front of everyone else sitting at the bar. It is important to let them know that you are not a dog. You then must explain to them that if they ever whistle at a bartender again they will be 86ed from drinking alcohol anywhere including in their own basement. Then, based on their response you decide whether or not you have the large man standing on the door break both their legs.

At the very least, whistling at the bartender is a great way to go thirsty for the rest of the evening. Not only will you be skipped, but you will be ignored in such a blatant manner that no matter how dumb you are you will get the fact that you fucked up. If you whistle at me I will help everyone else in the entire bar even if I have to start offering table service before I will even consider serving you again. I will tell my barback to go on break so I can run glassware in lieu of pouring you anything. I will enter every credit card slip into my computer as slowly as possible so that you may crave your drink for just a little longer. And then once I have no viable way to possibly ignore you anymore I will smoke a cigarette.

I bet you are wondering if you can’t call a bartender bro or sugar nipples or big dog or baby or snap your fingers or scream or whistle, how are you ever going to get a drink around here? The answer to that is only found when one truly understands that using these words or whistling is actually not going to get you served faster. It will give you just the opposite. Bartenders have a great memory and hold a grudge all the way to their grave. Once you are labeled a whistler you are a whistler for life. In fact other bartenders who you haven’t ever whistled at will be able to recognize you for what you are and the drinks will continually be coming out slower and slower until one day when they finally stop.

You the general drunken public should be offended as well. The last thing you want as you’re peacefully sipping a frosty pint is for some bag of dick to stroll up to the bar and whistle as loud as he can. I recommend the next time this happens you stop what you are doing and stare at the culprit in disgust. Feel free to point and I highly encourage you alert others that there has been a serious bar infraction. Let’s make it clear to this disrespectful douchebag and those like him that we as a people will not stand for that sort of behavior any longer .

The Bad Bartender Chronicles II

March 24, 2012

A major problem with the bar industry today is that a lot of male bar owners/managers make hiring decisions based off approval by their dick instead of their brain. As a result, instead of ending up with a quality bartender they hire some super hot bimbo with boobs bigger than their heads who can barely pour an ice water. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of really good female bartenders, some of which are really hot. That’s not the point. This isn’t a beauty contest and the bottom line is if I wanted to stare at a hot chick who can’t keep my drink filled with booze because she is too busy flirting with her nineteen year old barback I would go to a strip club. When I am out drinking, I want my drinks strong and fast and it doesn’t matter if a gremlin is serving me as long as my glass stays full.

Usually, the idea behind hiring a hot female bartender who cares more about her makeup than the customers is based on the fact that most of the people frequenting a bar on a regular basis are men. It is then assumed that when drinking men must have a half dressed hottie serving them alcohol. In that sense men are seen as animals who constantly crave the sight of the opposite sex and when this craving is mixed with booze it gets worse. If that is the case then we as men are very simple creatures and are at best one step above a coyote with our snarling teeth and saliva covered chins.

There is some truth to the idea that all most men need to be satisfied with a bar is to have a glorified stripper with pouring privileges serving drinks slowly. I would estimate that seventy percent of men really are that simple. I know a lot of guys who frequent bars based strictly on what the bar staff looks like. What’s funny is that what all of these guys have in common is their belief that one day they will take that sexy bartender home with them.

That notion is foolish and quite frankly laughable. Hot female bartenders make a living off saps who swear they are one step away from getting laid. News flash jack ass all that flirting you and her just shared was monetarily motivated on her part and ten seconds after you walked away she started flirting with someone else.

This false confidence grows when men are fed booze and by the end of the night a good female bartender will have a bar full of men truly believing that they have a shot. Even after the door guy has cleared these drunken lechers out from the bar as they head home they do so with the confidence that next time they truly will get lucky with their favorite bartender. Although this sounds pretty pathetic it happens at bars all over the world and evidently as much as we as a species adapt and improve ourselves, drunken men believing hot girls half their age are down to bone is a mentality even evolution can’t overcome.

In our modern world which favors gender equality there are few jobs females are at a disadvantage of obtaining other than being president. Men on the other hand find hardships when trying to enter many a job field, especially so in the bar business. Despite the fact that this double standard has been set due in large to ogling men who care more about their spank bank than good service it is still unfair.

It is a fact that finding a job as a male bartender is exponentially more difficult than it is for a woman. I am the proof. When I moved out to California I had four years of bar tending experience along with a year of bar management experience and I couldn’t even get a job at Chili’s. One bar manager looked me dead in the eye and said that he didn’t think he’d ever seen a male apply for a position. I felt the urge to smack him across the face for even sliding me an application and then watching me fill it out before sharing this information with me. Luckily after some lean times a wise man took a chance on my overqualified ass as a busboy and the rest is bar history.

Once men get a leg in behind the bar they have to work twice as hard as a woman to earn a decent wage. I have seen a good looking girl get a hundred dollar tip from a creepy and greasy looking businessman even though it took her ten minutes to acknowledge him and another twenty to figure out how to open his Bud Light. Trust me; no one is ever going to tip me a hundred bucks just to stand there with a confused look on my face no matter how pretty my beard is that day.

I urge you the drunken masses to demand competence over big tits. Don’t stand for shitty service just because some bar owner thinks his office is the casting couch of a cheap porn website. Let’s take our bars back and move forward into a world where bartenders aren’t judged on their jugs but their ability. Let’s forgo fantasies of nymphomaniac female bartenders who will fuck you just for tipping well and move into a reality where every bartender around knows that there is no cranberry juice in a vodka tonic.

St. Patty’s Day 2012

March 16, 2012

St. Patrick’s Day is a celebration of Irish culture. To Americans that means let’s get wasted. Apparently in this country we believe getting shitfaced while being all decked out in green is a great way to celebrate Irish tradition. I am not saying that all Irish people are a bunch of drunks, but I believe that is what most Americans think. My theory is that Americans use Irish culture as an excuse to get wasted because we as a people are a bunch of drunks.

Amongst bar employees and regulars St. Patty’s Day is also known as Amateur Night. Everyone who never goes out drinking at a bar decides to come out that day. It is New Year’s Eve on crack and instead of people starting to get wasted at 8pm most people begin lining their livers with liquor around noon. It is Mardi Gras except the beads are replaced with funny green hats, shirts with dirty limericks and green skinny jeans. Guinness is consumed at an alarming rate and the shot of the day is the shillelagh which is normally dropped into a half pint of Guinness. The name of this is an Irish Car Bomb and it is yet another example of misguided Americans thinking that they are honoring the Irish.

The combination of amateurs chugging pints of Guinness topped with Jameson and Bailey’s means anything can happen. There will be vomit, and a lot of it. Beware and get ready to duck and cover the second you see a curdled shillelagh floating in the beard of a man who has just shot his fourth car bomb all the while that cottage pie he just scarfed down is quickly working its way to returning itself to this world. Our bar backs will be wearing rain slickers that day so any unwanted fluids flying at them will rinse off with a quick hosing.

When faced with a bar full of people who go out so little that they don’t understand the rules of the bar, as employees we have no rules. That means there is zero tolerance on everything. Since it is impossible to properly enforce a zero tolerance policy upon 500 drunken people I will be personally monitoring the crowd myself. I will be dressed as a leprechaun and in my hand I will hold a real shillelagh which is a wooden walking stick with a large knob at the top. My shillelagh will be encrusted in gold. If I observe anyone getting out of line I will be tapping them on the shoulder with my golden cane to inform them that they have to leave. That means anyone puking, fighting, calling me bro, string ordering, groping other guy’s girlfriends, pissing on the side of the porta potty,  and honestly anyone who rubs me or my staff the wrong way will be getting shoulder tapped by my golden shillelagh.

There is a repeated crime against humanity found on every St. Patty’s day. That is the ordering of a green beer. Beer isn’t green. It’s not supposed to be green. To make beer green you have to put green food coloring or some other liquid in there. There’s no better way to ruin a tasty beer other than sticking random green liquids into it. Not only is it nasty, it’s messy. Any bartender degraded and disrespected enough to be forced to do such a thing suffers both the public humiliation of such an asinine act, but will also be forced to scrub their hands, as well as other body parts depending on individual personal practices clean of the green for days to come.

My advice to bartenders all across the nation on this upcoming St. Patty’s Day is as follows: when that thirty-two year old man wearing a fake afro wig sprouting out from underneath a green top hat with his cheeks painted green, wearing hippie glasses, a green tee-shirt that says “Kiss me I’m Irish”, finished off with green skinny jeans and green converse, approaches your bar and orders a green beer slam a Heineken down, double charge him and as soon as he pays point him out to the leprechaun with the golden shillelagh and trust that swift bar justice will served.


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