Wish Me Luck
After a good Friday night, I was a little concerned about Saturday. There was a ninety person party from two to four. Of course, I start at four-thirty. I’m happy the bar is doing business, but I want my taste. I got to bed at about four that morning and was woken up by some outboard motor the hotel behind me was running at eight. That’s not enough sleep for me. After the meeting the plan was to go home and nap. The best laid plans often go astray. No matter how hard I furrowed my brow, sleep did not come. I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.
I got to work and the party was winding down. I figured it would be a slow happy hour, then the pub crawl showed up. About fifty people arrived at the end of a crawl. They all had their necklaces with the order of pubs and specials that were offered. For our bar, they were told we had discounted Sierra Nevada and $4 specialty shots. We haven’t had Sierra Nevada in eighteen months, which gives you some idea how wrong the organizers were about our specials. When one woman insisted that she receive a $4 specialty shot, I told her, “It’s gonna have a lot of orange juice and cranberry if you want it.” She responded, “You’re a douche!” Oh, I get it. You come into my place of business, drunk, telling me how much things cost because it says so on some printed card around your neck, and I’m the douche? She’s lucky I got that four hours of sleep the night before or I would’ve buried my size 13 in her ass. Around seven-thirty my former boss came in. I confronted him about what I heard him say concerning my role in his being fired. His response was, “I don’t know what your talking about.” I said, “I guess we’re cool then.” I understand alcohol can impair one’s memory. Happy hour turned out great. The rest of the night was a bit soft. I guess I can thank the Santa Monica Police Department for that. They chose to put a drunk stop on Main St. a block north of my bar. Nothing like killing local business when there’s a recession.
Kevin’s brother is in town, so I worked for Kevin last night. I was especially touched when he sent me a text saying, “Harvelle’s at 9. Renee’s for Ghosts of Electricity after?” I responded, “I’m working for you, you cunt!” I guess it was nice to be invited. The night was brutally slow. I took to counting tumbleweed as it rolled down Main St. The one advantage of a slow Sunday night is that it’s usually industry people who come in and they are monster tippers. Last night was no exception. Now the fun commences.
Tonight begins my power trip. Tonight I am the manager. Tonight I will fire someone right off the bat, just to show who’s in charge. I might even clean house. Fire everyone. Then they will know I’m not just some guy who offered to help and is now a minimum wage manager. I am all powerful. Actually, there will only be six people working so I can’t really fire anyone. My job is to help out where ever I can. I’ll be working with Kimi so I’ll try and help her make as much cash as possible, so she can fund her tequila fueled Sundays and real life bumper cars. I should be alright, as long as nothing too serious happens, like I don’t know…the health department showing up. Wish me luck.
