Smoking Can Be Lucrative
It’s a horrible addiction. I’m not hear to moralize. It’s just that when I quit in February, I knew on an intellectual level that I couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t smoke a cigarette again. When we got shut down, I just grabbed one for the hell of it. Bad move. It’s been three days since I’ve had one. Something about being in the office when the registers downstairs had seized up and no money (cash or credit) was going in or out that I bummed a smoke. I didn’t know it then but two smokes later, I was gonna be making some cash.
Before I clocked in, I helped raise my bar’s bottom line. I was talking to Nicole about raising the price on the well fifty cents. (This was an idea that Kevin had pushed. Just giving credit.) We got into the computer and had at it. I, also, learned how to change the message to employees when they clock in. That can be good times. One of the things I love about my bar is that at any point conversations can start up between total strangers. There are times when I introduce people with similar interests, but today was one of those times when people at the bar just seemed to enjoy each other’s company. With Enterprise Fish Co. closed, happy hour was especially busy. The low point came when a couple of men of middle Eastern persuasion ordered food after happy hour ended. They were intent on getting the happy hour discount, even though it was past eight p.m., which is an exceptionally late happy hour, and the food they ordered wasn’t even on the happy hour menu. But they assured me, “We will take care of you.” There are certain phrases spoken at the bar which automatically turn life into Bizarro World. When they got the check, they asked about the Buffalo Shrimp. I got a little ornery. I told them, “This is what you ordered. This is how much it costs. We’re not here to make a deal.” They took it in stride.
A new cocktail server started last night. Any time a change is made in the computer upstairs, adding an employee, for instance, all the terminals (registers) restart with a message, “Be Right Back.” This time it was an eternity. I ran upstairs and deleted the new employee then I updated the system. This only added more minutes to the eternity. (For you Mac users out there, it’s like when the color wheel keeps spinning.) Gator came into the office while I called POSitouch customer service. I bummed a smoke off him. He told me, as I started my habit again, “North Carolina thanks you.” We got the system up and running. There was a great crowd early on. I thought it was gonna be one of those crazy busy nights, but it started to die. An hour later, I found myself walking outside for my third smoke of the night. Head down, I hit the patio. Lying on the bricks were two twenties. No way! I bent over to pick them up with a customer watching me. I don’t know if he expected me to put up fliers around the neighborhood, “Have you lost two twenties? Call 1-800 You’re never fucking getting them back.” He eye balled me for a while. What could I do? Hold them up and shout out, “Did anyone lose these?” My Mama didn’t raise no dummies. Tim asked me if I was gonna put it in the tip jar. I hate to quote myself, but “My Mama didn’t raise no dummies.”
We ended up getting busy. The night turned out great. My orneriness resurfaced towards the end. There aren’t many things sacred to me at the bar, but the fruit tray is one. People seem to think they can shove their hands down their pants and stick their fingers up their nose, then grab an olive. One of my colleagues will stick his finger in a customer’s drink when they act like the fruit tray is their own personal buffet. So when I looked over at a customer stuffing a two-dollar tip into the maraschino cherries, I freaked out. Now I’ve seen people lay bills over the fruit tray, but jamming two in it is not cool. I went over and pulled out the money, shouting, “Are you kidding? Are you kidding?” One of my colleagues told me I was over the line. He felt she was just looking for a dry place to set down money. Maybe I was over the line, but contaminating food with dirty money doesn’t sit well with me. And who is he to question my authority? Doesn’t he know I’m assistant to the manager? I love having a title. No matter, I had an extra forty bucks in my pocket. Before I started my shift, I didn’t know that smoking can be lucrative.
