Dazed And Confused
I woke up this morning not knowing what day it was. That’s the problem with having a Vampiric schedule, you tend to lose a sense of time. There was a time when my sister was out of work and she would ask me, “Dave, is it weekday or weekend?” For the unemployed, it doesn’t matter, it’s all weekend. Sometimes when I start my week, I’m not ready. I’m a half a step behind, my sense of humor is off, it’s like how some people are without their morning coffee. For instance, I find that families don’t appreciate jokes about pedophiles. My bad. Luckily, when I got to work it was slow enough that I could ease into it.
I only had a few customers watching the tournament, when she walked in. She was a lovely, young Jewess. How could I tell? She had a necklace with Hebrew writing on it. Now I’d like to believe that she knows enough Hebrew that she knows it says, “Rachel, daughter of Moishe” and not “Jam it in my ass, Pilgrim.” In any case, she asked if she could sit at the bar and watch the game without ordering anything. Personally, I wanted to say, “No, buy a bottle of water. The TV isn’t free.” but having an attractive young woman at the bar doesn’t really hurt, so I carded her and let her stay. I have this fear that if my first customer is non-paying, then it will set a bad tone. It took some time, but it got busy. My friends Kathy, Poodle, and Claire came in with their kids and Martha brought her parents in. I love meeting people’s parents. I don’t know why I get such a thrill but I guess living in such a transient city, it’s rare that you get to see friends’ roots. I tried to compliment Martha by saying, “Your daughter is one of our best customers.” I realized they probably heard, “Your daughter is a drunk. Help her.” What I meant to say is, “Your daughter is one of our most generous customers. She’s salt of the earth. Well done.” You see, half a step off. Happy hour was great, but everyone seemed to come in at once and I felt like I was neglecting my tables. I hate when a customer feels that they need to come to the bar for something. They usually don’t mind, but it bothers me.
It got a little busy and it took a while before I got my dinner break. While eating, Kimi came in with her cousin, Brooke, who’s in town from Philly. I got behind the bar and Kevin and I did a shot with them. About a half-hour later, I noticed Brooke was a bit hammered. I figured she was tired from the flight, but she started speaking esperanto or some such shit. Kimi translated. I handed Brooke a bottle of water and felt like I was absolved of any liability from over serving her. (Go water!) My friend’s Danny and Rick came in. They’re big time musicians who were playing that night. There were three bands and they together brought in a great, adult crowd. It’s such a pleasure to serve adults. They don’t ask questions like, “What’s the cheapest thing here?” You, now fuck off! Now they weren’t all adults. I had one ass clown ask, “Do you do Gentleman’s tabs?” With my deafness in full effect, I heard, “Taps,” so I pointed to the beer tabs. He spoke louder, “Gentleman’s tabs.” I asked, “What’s that?” He explained, “You give me a drink and I pay you tomorrow.” I thought it was only in cartoons where they say, “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.” I’ve got fucking Wimpy up in this bitch. Fucking mooch. Act like an American: get a credit card and charge your life away. For the record, I have floated someone a beer who was short of cash, but they probably purchased a thousand beers since we’ve opened our doors. There are many customers who could drink for free if they had no cash, but, Catch-22, they always have cash.
Although we started with a great crowd. It seriously slowed down. I had one customer order four Stellas and four chocolate cake shots. It was sixty-one bucks and I ran his card. I was closing out tabs when this guy spiked his check presenter on the bar in anger. I asked, “Is everything alright?” figuring he was bothered by the cost of his round. He replied that a colleague handed him back his tab and said, “Fix it.” The guy had left just under ten percent, six bucks. Most bartenders will overlook this if the customer tips a buck a drink. Personally, I would’ve let it slide, I figure it’s a marathon and you never know what this customer’s business will lead to. But I’m neither going to chastise nor apologize for my colleague. Here’s a lesson to bar patrons: if a bartender is unhappy with their tip, that’s their problem. The customer does not have to do anything. This customer could’ve said, “No. Fuck off and get your manager.” This guy looked like an idiot because he had a bitch fit and changed his tip to a more respectable one. This goes beyond the bar. It’s a life lesson. You can only control how you act.
My friends Rick and Danny’s band killed it. They started off with “One Way Out” by the Allman’s and crushed it. They played “Tush,” “Rock n’ Roll Hoochie Coo,” “No More Mr. Nice Guy.” I thought to myself, sweet, they’re playing the soundtrack to Dazed and Confused.
