Confessions of a Bartender
There’s a certain darkness that creeps in when the night wears on, the music blares louder, and the crowd morphs into a writhing sea of inebriated souls. Behind the bar, we are the unseen sentinels, the gatekeepers to your night of oblivion. We mix your drinks, tolerate your slurred conversations, and witness the unraveling of your sober facade. It's a dance as old as time, and tonight, I’m here to share the confessions of a bartender dealing with the drunken masses.
The Descent Begins
The first drink is always innocent, a harbinger of the night’s potential. But as the alcohol flows, inhibitions dissolve. Eyes gloss over, voices rise in pitch and volume, and the true nature of humanity emerges. For us behind the bar, it's a front-row seat to the theatre of excess, a dark comedy where the punchlines are slurred and the tragedies often overlooked.
The Flirting Fools
There’s the guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, leaning across the bar with a confidence only six shots of tequila can provide. His lines are as tired as the dark circles under my eyes, and his charm as thin as the slice of lime perched on the rim of his glass. Yet, he persists, undeterred by rejection, convinced that another drink will tip the scales in his favor.
The Sob Stories
Then there are the broken souls, drowning their sorrows in a sea of spirits. They clutch their glasses like lifelines, spilling tales of heartbreak and loss that hang heavy in the air. These are the moments that weigh the most – when a simple act of pouring a drink feels like administering anesthesia to a wounded animal. You nod, you listen, but there’s only so much solace a shot of bourbon can offer.
The Rowdy Revelers
The frat boys and bachelorette parties – they come in packs, loud and uninhibited. They commandeer the bar, demanding attention, oblivious to the chaos they create. Their laughter is a cacophony, their demands insatiable. They are the embodiment of Dionysian excess, a testament to the wild abandon that alcohol can unleash. And yet, you serve them, knowing that this too shall pass.
The Fighters
Inevitably, the aggression surfaces. Two alpha males, egos inflated by liquid courage, squaring off over a perceived slight or a stolen glance. The tension is palpable, the air thick with testosterone and impending violence. It’s in these moments that the bar transforms into a battlefield, and we, the bartenders, are the reluctant peacekeepers. A word here, a drink on the house there – anything to diffuse the ticking time bomb of drunken rage.
The Uncomfortable Truth
Being a bartender isn’t just about pouring drinks and keeping the peace. It's about maintaining control and creating a safe space for everyone. Trust your instincts. More often than not, women find themselves in uncomfortable scenarios where they either go along with it to avoid making a scene or leave altogether. This is where we step in. I've kicked out plenty of creeps in my day and even had to put hands on a few. Keep your head on a swivel.
I remember one night, at a nameless popular Speakeasy in River North Chicago, keeping an eye on a guy who seemed a little too interested in a woman at the bar. He reached inside her shirt and groped her. I asked her, "Do you know this guy?" She was too stressed to respond, but her eyes said it all. The guy said, “yea she knows me.” Without hesitation, I came from behind the bar, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and pushed him up the stairs all the way to the street.
If you have security, tell them to kick out anyone making others feel uncomfortable. But if you ever find yourself in a scenario like that play it safe and back off, stay calm, and call the cops. This is your realm – make it a safe space for all patrons.
The Cleanup Crew
And then there’s the aftermath. “ If you are not a bartender, or if you are not fucking a bartender you gotta go.” The once bustling bar is now a wasteland of abandoned glasses, spilled drinks, and forgotten possessions. The lights come up, and the harsh reality of the night's debauchery is laid bare. We clean, we reset, we drink, we smoke, we… prepare for the next onslaught, knowing that tomorrow night will bring more of the same.
The Stoic Truth
In this dark dance of intoxication and excess, there’s a stoic truth that we bartenders hold onto. We are the silent witnesses to your escapades, the keepers of your secrets, and the providers of your temporary escape. We see you at your worst, your most vulnerable, and your most unguarded. And through it all, we remain, steadfast and unyielding, serving up drinks and confessions with equal measure.
So next time you find yourself at the bar, remember – we’re not just pouring drinks. We’re chronicling the human condition, one shot at a time. And in this midnight confession, perhaps there’s a lesson to be learned, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. Cheers to that.