Posts Tagged ‘irish car bomb’

Every Night Amateur

July 14, 2012

The term amateur night is usually used to describe New Year’s Eve. It is the one night a year where everybody who never goes to the bar decides that New Year’s is the night to do so. Any veteran drinker knows to stay away from even their most regular of establishments on such a night to avoid being surrounded by virginal bar goers spewing curdled car bombs all over the bar as they blow furiously on squeaky noise makers.

I’m here to say that it’s not just on New Year’s Eve that you, the general drunken public, should be wary of amateurs. On a nightly and on some nights an hourly basis I witness people doing some really stupid shit that makes you wonder whether or not they are mentally challenged in some way. Unfortunately they usually aren’t. It is much more likely that they are every night amateurs.

Every night amateurs behave in a manner that suggests that they have never been to a bar before in their entire life. This is not true. These people have been to bars before and some of them on a semi-regular basis. Despite this they still don’t realize that there is a certain way you are supposed to act in a public setting where alcohol is being served.

For example don’t bang on the bar, ever. Never reach into my fruit caddy or you will feel the wrath of my iron clad bottle opener, also known as Excalibur, which has bruised the shit out of many a fruit stealing fingers. When you approach a bar always have your id and money ready so that a transaction that should only take thirty seconds doesn’t turn into a five minute ordeal. If you don’t want to be labeled an every night amateur then use common sense and realize that if a bartender overhears you telling the total stranger sitting next you that he is over tipping, you most likely will never get served at that bar again.

The latest every night amateur trend seems to be ordering a drink and then walking away. That way when I return with their drink they are nowhere to be found. Nothing is more frustrating to a bartender who is busy then to have to seek a customer out to serve them. I’m not sure of the logic behind walking away after placing an order. It’s not like it’s going to take me fifteen minutes to fill a glass with some ice and some vodka cranberry. I didn’t give you a number and tell you we would call you over the loudspeaker when your order was up so why in the hell would you ever walk away right after asking me to make you something that takes fifteen seconds?

Every night amateurs come in couples some times. You can spot them because they will be the unattractive pair sloppily making out while sitting at the bar with no regard for anyone who happens to be around them. Drunken public displays of affection are the worst kind. Not only are they sloppy but they are noisy so that every smack of lips, lick of tongues or gnashing of teeth can be heard by anyone within five stools of the nasty couple. Visible tongue twisting and neck slurping can cause many a stomachs to turn. The worst is when this already disgusting display of every night amateur foreplay leads to an under the jacket hand job. When this occurs it must be stopped immediately or else spilled beer and melted water won’t be the only substances staining your bar.

The older an every night amateur is the more difficult they are to deal with. They have been acting like jackasses in public for so long that they actually believe that their behavior is acceptable. This makes every action of an older every night amateur much more extreme. What that means is they will be louder, dumber and more offensive than possibly any person you have ever come across. That also means that when they start making out with whatever other ancient fossil they come across who happens to be just as horny as them that their drunken public display of affection will always end with either an 86ing or a bar sprayed down with elderly semen.

We as bar employees deserve some blame for the high number of older every night amateurs that are out there. If they have been acting in such a moronic way for so long that means somebody somewhere should have said something like, “Hey asshole how about you stop whistling and calling me sweet cheeks or else I’m going to rip your tongue out of your mouth and smack the shit out of you with it.” Any bar owner who doesn’t allow his or her staff to properly police and educate the animal-like behavior that goes on at every bar in the world is doing you, the general drunken public, a disservice. If you don’t call an every night amateur out they will act like a dickbag for the rest of their lives and most likely raise a family of half-wit dickbags that will terrorize innocent bar employees and regulars until the end of time.

The worst offense an every night amateur can perform is the defamation of a check book or credit card receipt. If you don’t want to tip that’s fine, there is a special restaurant in hell you will be waiting tables at when you die, but being cheap is your right. However, vulgarities of any kind found on company property are unacceptable. That means that slipping a condom in a checkbook, drawing a penis or making obscene comments or simply writing fuck you on a credit card receipt will be met with swift action. Disrespectful behavior such as that is an abomination wrapped in an abomination marinated in hot sauce topped with melted Gouda served on a cheese cracker and should result in public humiliation, aggressive 86ing and, possibly, leg breaking.

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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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