I was in the last hour of a double getting ready to close out my last tab when a mother in her mid-twenties came in with her two sons. They looked to be around nine or ten, and were extremely loud. The mother was too engrossed in her cell phone conversation to care. When I went to greet them I noticed the kids had dumped sugar all over the table and were now doing the same with the salt and pepper. I offered them drinks and when she finally put her phone down she demanded a Long Island Iced Tea.
She was on the phone again when I returned with the drinks and the kids were now pouring sugar directly into their mouths. In the span of a minute they had each swallowed three packets worth of sugar. This whole time the mother was on her phone. She held her finger up to signal for me to wait. I did so for another several minutes before giving up and walking away. As soon as I did I heard her yell “Hey” as loud as she could. I begrudgingly returned to the table. As I did I caught the end of her phone conversation which included the words “stupid fucking waiter…”
She hung up the phone.
“Is there any alcohol in this because it tastes awfully weak?”
As she spoke I could smell the alcohol steaming off her breath. I tried to explain that there was no such thing as a weak Long Island, but she wasn’t having it. Even though she had drank half of it I brought her a new one.
I took the food orders as well as another Long Island order and walked away. All three of them got burgers, although the two kids were sharing one. By the time the food came out she was ready for her third Long Island in twenty minutes. When I returned with her drink she was sitting at the table by herself. The kids were dumping sugar on all the other tables in the dining room and screeching at the top of their lungs. I waited for her to say something, but when it became evident that she was okay ignoring the little bastards I intervened.
“Hey guys. Foods ready. How about you go join your Mom.”
The response from both of them was to shove their middle fingers in my face. My patience dwindled but I fought the urge to strangle them.
“Excuse me,” the mother yelled.
I returned to the table. She told me not to speak to her children because I wasn’t their father. I cringed at the thought that someone actually had sex with this awful woman, not just once, but twice. She waved me away and ordered another Long Island. When I returned the kids were sitting on the floor punching each other.
She had inhaled her burger, but informed me that her kids hadn’t liked theirs. I looked at their burger. It hadn’t been touched. I wondered if the bastards were too full on sugar and stupidity to be able to eat anything more. I asked her how they knew they didn’t like it if they hadn’t even tasted it. She was grossly offended and demanded her check. I took the kids burger off the check in hopes of avoiding any confrontation. She informed me that it was unethical for me to charge her for all four of her Long Island Iced Tea’s when the first one had been so weak. I swallowed my pride and apologized and took one off the bill paying for it with money out of my own pocket. They left a half hour after we were supposed to be closed. In addition to not tipping the dining room was trashed by her demon seeds. As I wiped sugar off of everything I actually found myself grateful for our encounter as it gave me a newfound respect for birth control. I beg you mam please forget how you got here.
The Bad Bartender Chronicles III
May 12, 2012With 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.
Share this:
Like this:
Tags:1980's movie, 1980's movie trivia, app, Bar, bar business, bar owner, bar staff, bars, bartender, bartending, bony smoke stained finger, bro, cactus cooler, cell phones, classic issues of playboy, comment, dark place, debate, devices, dictionaries, downloaded, drink, drunk, emergency, empty glasses, establishment, facebook, facts, gambling problems, general drunken public, girl's panties, golden rule, hi-tech phones, human contact, internet, mis-pouring, modern technology, music, Paul Simon, Phone, phone conversations, pint, playboy, post, pub, register, sports almanacs, tip bucket, tip jar, transaction, twitter, whiskey, witty
Posted in Bar Etiquette | Leave a Comment »