At a recent Kenny Rogers concert held at Hammersmith Apollo a Mother (60+) burst past me through the theatre doors sans ticket to which I questioned ‘Sorry, do you have a ticket?’ – not because I thought she was sneaking in, but because a lot of people don’t know (or pretend not to know) there’s a difference between a downstairs stalls ticket (good view) and an upstairs circle ticket (bad view). Following closely behind was her daughter (30+) yelling ‘Mum, wait! They need to see your ticket!’. The Mother then turned to me and quipped ‘I do apologise! You know us old people, when they let us out we run riot. We’re worse than the kids!’. And never a truer word has been spoken.
This Mother/daughter combo were polite, funny produced their tickets and were on their way. Unlike most they actually listened to my directions to their seats and obviously found them as I didn’t see them again. But sadly this story is one of few like it. Working at a venue that doubles as a theatre means you get all manner of clientele depending on the entertainment on offer, and believe it or not an older crowd can be one of the worst. As far as they’re concerned their age gives them wisdom, experience and the right to complain about anything and everything. Chances are they’ve been to a show or 2 previously so a little knowledge of how it all works is implied and vehemently touted by said demographic. They have a tendency to strut around like they own the place, and in fact have lived there their whole lives, so heaven help you if as an usher you try to direct them to their seat or the toilet.
Being on the bar is an entirely different kettle of fish. No matter how fast you serve they always have to wait too long… ALWAYS. It wouldn’t matter if you had the 8 arms of Vishnu and beer taps for fingers, they’d still stand in front of you tutting, clucking and bitching to each other like you’re a deaf mute. ‘You just don’t get good service these days / I’ll probably die of thirst before I get a drink / She won’t even look at me / Do they know how hot it is in here?’. No, not at all, as we work our butts off running back and forth for over 4 hours. Then you must endure the actual ordering phase of the transaction. The temperature of the beer, air, lack of snacks, gassiness – or lack thereof – of the soft drinks and the price of everything on sale down to the ticket and merchandise are entirely your fault. You yourself came to work early solely to overprice everything, turn off all fridges and build extra stairs in the stairwells just to make their lives a misery. Because hearing them complain is like music to your ears. It’s the very reason you get up every day.
So never underestimate the Golden Oldies crowd as they’ve seen and done it all before. They don’t need directions, they don’t need any help and they don’t have to be polite. That is of course until the show begins and they come slinking back nice as pie with a newfound limp or sympathy strain confessing that they in fact can’t find their seat, ask you where the toilets are and to get them a drink as they’re so thirsty and old and frail. And you dutifully assist them as you should do, as they’re old and have paid their dues, and they’re now making you pay yours.
Wednesday 13 May 2009
Friday 27 March 2009
Confessions of an Australian Bar Maid: Day vs Night
As noted in another of my Blogs (http://sistersinsays.blogspot.com/) I have recently acquired my first ever office job, complete with desk, staff pass with lanyard and water cooler. I love the job – it’s interesting, fun and my co-workers are better than I could ever have hoped for (and they could certainly give the Creatures a run for their money in the interrelations department). Being a veteran Creature of the Night this is an entirely new experience for me and I never thought I’d enjoy it as much as I do. It also pays very well and therefore begs the question ‘Do I need to work nights anymore?’. Plus I am still met with the ‘I don’t know how you do it!’ comments from my new colleagues. Truth be told I don’t think I’ll ever cease to work nights. I’ve done it for so long now I find myself restless and bored when at home, especially now there aren’t as many shows on. The fact that I actually can go home after work these days is strange to me and I’ve developed a rather unhealthy UK soapie obsession as a result.
Nothing quite compares to the rush of being a Creature of the Night. I feel it provides certain satisfactions and a social side that a day job simply cannot posses. Take for example my current job: I get up the same time as everyone else and don the appropriate office get-up (except on Friday’s which I think is universally known as ‘casual day’). I squeeze myself onto the tube/bus with book/Metro/Shortlist/Sport in hand so as not to have to make eye contact or speak to anyone, stand single file on the right of the escalator - or if I’m feeling energetic or running late, leg it up the left - and eventually park myself at my allocated desk, just like everybody else. And that’s about it really. Aside from the occasional lunch outing, inter-departmental office wander and chat, external meeting or game of rolled-up-Guardian-bat-and-stress-ball-office- cricket match, there’s not much else going on. I organise my boss, answer emails, forward funnies, print papers, fulfil my H&S responsibilities by ensuring no-one is close to or in fear of dying, then squeeze back onto the tube and make my way home reading my book or London Paper (no London Lite, don’t like it), just like everybody else.
Yet gearing up for a night shift is a whole different ball game. Depending on your day job situation and the day of the week your journey to work is never the same. You could be rushing from one job to the other looking not unlike Michael Bourne being chased by the CIA as you take escalator steps 2 at a time, narrowly skim through beeping tube doors, duck and weave your way through tourists, families and old people in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Or it could be a weekend evening which means there’s an entirely different buzz in the air - people finishing work and readying themselves for the weekend, looking at each other, maybe even talking and laughing with each other on the tube or bus. It gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling to know that you’re heading to work to serve some of these smiling faces, maybe even chat and flirt with them, and hopefully add to the plethora of happy memories they’ll have of their evening should they be able to remember anything in the morning - all the time safe in the knowledge that you’ll be working but also earning and socialising. They’ll be waking up with little to no money, possibly wallet-less, maybe even clothes-less, and definitely worse for wear.
Your uniform may consist of a compulsory branded shirt or apron but other than that you can dress to impress, and the actual work part of the deal is never the same as the shows and crowds differ every night. You’ve lucked out should it be a theatre-style show, comedy night or older person’s affair as attendees are almost always boring and NEVER tip. But should the evening involve a quality rock band or better yet a DJ or dance party you’re home free! The drinks will be flowing, the tunes cranking and if the DJ’s spinning you can rest assured there’ll be plenty of intoxicants about which means more one-night-only friends, chat up lines, classic conversations and lots of lovely munters leaving their change behind!
Your journey home is dependant on the night’s occurrences. Staffies as you know are more common than not so if your nights been hellish you can let off steam with your co-workers, or if heavenly you can spend your newly acquired bounty on any number of fancy beverages. And whether it be a walk home or public transport expedition at the end of it all you’re sure to see some interesting sights, especially at the weekend. It may be a hilariously profound and in-depth drunken conversation that none of the participants will ever remember, a girl puking in her hand bag, some bright spark putting a bin through a bus window, people falling down stairs and aisles, or a highly sophisticated Essex girl losing a heel/top/dress/skirt – all of which I have witnessed, by the way – your journey home is sure to be full of wonders and surprises the likes of which ye have never seen and would never expect. And as you finally climb into your warm bed after a hard nights work you can sleep sound in the knowledge that you’ve helped contribute to all that fun, all those hangovers, all those drunken slobbering kisses and forgetful one night stands.
Ah, the beauty of it all…
Nothing quite compares to the rush of being a Creature of the Night. I feel it provides certain satisfactions and a social side that a day job simply cannot posses. Take for example my current job: I get up the same time as everyone else and don the appropriate office get-up (except on Friday’s which I think is universally known as ‘casual day’). I squeeze myself onto the tube/bus with book/Metro/Shortlist/Sport in hand so as not to have to make eye contact or speak to anyone, stand single file on the right of the escalator - or if I’m feeling energetic or running late, leg it up the left - and eventually park myself at my allocated desk, just like everybody else. And that’s about it really. Aside from the occasional lunch outing, inter-departmental office wander and chat, external meeting or game of rolled-up-Guardian-bat-and-stress-ball-office- cricket match, there’s not much else going on. I organise my boss, answer emails, forward funnies, print papers, fulfil my H&S responsibilities by ensuring no-one is close to or in fear of dying, then squeeze back onto the tube and make my way home reading my book or London Paper (no London Lite, don’t like it), just like everybody else.
Yet gearing up for a night shift is a whole different ball game. Depending on your day job situation and the day of the week your journey to work is never the same. You could be rushing from one job to the other looking not unlike Michael Bourne being chased by the CIA as you take escalator steps 2 at a time, narrowly skim through beeping tube doors, duck and weave your way through tourists, families and old people in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Or it could be a weekend evening which means there’s an entirely different buzz in the air - people finishing work and readying themselves for the weekend, looking at each other, maybe even talking and laughing with each other on the tube or bus. It gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling to know that you’re heading to work to serve some of these smiling faces, maybe even chat and flirt with them, and hopefully add to the plethora of happy memories they’ll have of their evening should they be able to remember anything in the morning - all the time safe in the knowledge that you’ll be working but also earning and socialising. They’ll be waking up with little to no money, possibly wallet-less, maybe even clothes-less, and definitely worse for wear.
Your uniform may consist of a compulsory branded shirt or apron but other than that you can dress to impress, and the actual work part of the deal is never the same as the shows and crowds differ every night. You’ve lucked out should it be a theatre-style show, comedy night or older person’s affair as attendees are almost always boring and NEVER tip. But should the evening involve a quality rock band or better yet a DJ or dance party you’re home free! The drinks will be flowing, the tunes cranking and if the DJ’s spinning you can rest assured there’ll be plenty of intoxicants about which means more one-night-only friends, chat up lines, classic conversations and lots of lovely munters leaving their change behind!
Your journey home is dependant on the night’s occurrences. Staffies as you know are more common than not so if your nights been hellish you can let off steam with your co-workers, or if heavenly you can spend your newly acquired bounty on any number of fancy beverages. And whether it be a walk home or public transport expedition at the end of it all you’re sure to see some interesting sights, especially at the weekend. It may be a hilariously profound and in-depth drunken conversation that none of the participants will ever remember, a girl puking in her hand bag, some bright spark putting a bin through a bus window, people falling down stairs and aisles, or a highly sophisticated Essex girl losing a heel/top/dress/skirt – all of which I have witnessed, by the way – your journey home is sure to be full of wonders and surprises the likes of which ye have never seen and would never expect. And as you finally climb into your warm bed after a hard nights work you can sleep sound in the knowledge that you’ve helped contribute to all that fun, all those hangovers, all those drunken slobbering kisses and forgetful one night stands.
Ah, the beauty of it all…
Wednesday 18 March 2009
Confessions of an Australian Barmaid: Customer Relations
You may recall my previous blog on interelations in the work place and how dating fellow collegues can be fun but fickle at the best of times. The same can also be said for taking an interest in your ever-thirsty clintele as it can raise all kinds of issues in regards to ethics, conflicts of interest and general customer relations.
As a bartender you are constantly getting hit on, and whilst this is flattering and excellent for the self esteem it can become extremely tedious, especially when said flatterers are sleazy and intoxicated or old and crusty. Even if the customer in question turns out to be both attractive and amicable you have to remember, the more you're seeing of them the more you're serving them, which means they're getting more and more inhebriated. You can learn a lot about a person by plying them full of alcohol and robbing them blind for both drinks and tips whilst you yourself are totally sober, let me tell you.
And the above is not the only ethical hurdle you can encounter. As far as hourly wages go bartending barely lines the pockets so tips become an essential part of life. And while chatting, flirting and serving the occasional over-pour can make for a very lucrative night is this really how you want to start a relationship? Performing a service for money whilst using persuasive techniques to make a little extra on the side?? Bartending is one of the world's oldest professions, but can become akin to another old and well known profession when the above techniques come into play.
In saying that you always meet lovely and interesting people when working, it's one of the best parts of the job. Should you see one of these people at your local after work or randomly out and about one night (which does happen: 'Don't I know you from somewhere?','You served me at...!') it's entirely possible you could strike up more than just pleasant conversation. And should this person be content to live in a relationship where you hardly see each other - and let's face it, that could be a good thing - you can most certainly become ensconced in a semi-normal fun and loving relationship. If you're both working different hours and not seeing each other on a regular basis this can be highly beneficial, making each time you see each other all the more special and exciting. However this is only the case should your new found friend be OK with leading separate lives; day vs night; light vs dark.
Say you do find a keeper through work one night: depending on how and where you work your new crush may be very proud of the fact they're dating a creature of the night, so much so that they brag about it constantly to all their friends and start propping up your bar on a regular basis along with all their best friends. At first it may be just them and a friend or 2 - they get to know the other creatures, maybe even the locals - and as a consequence you might give a free pint here and a sneaky shot there. It's at this point that word spreads like wildfire. Their friends tell more friends and before you know it they're taking up an entire side of the bar, getting drunk and rowdy and generally annoying everybody that crosses their path. Well-connected significant others can sometimes feel they have some kind of immunity or VIP privelige which can in turn make them arrogant and turn them into, well, a right twat.
The other down side of this scenario is that your work and personal life now become one. What was once a kind of safe haven from everday life, people and pastimes now has your new squeeze encroaching on it's boundaries. Needless to say this puts a strain on the relationship, not to mention your tip jar. An ever-present significant other majorly hinders the flirt-for-cash scheme as well as the flirt-for-fun factor. It is a well known fact that all bartenders - single or otherwise - engage in frequent flirt-for-fun activities whilst at work; another perk of the job. And let's not even go into what happens when he/she sees you being admired fro afar by another customer as there's no good way for that to end. Bring all of this together with the often annoying fact that they're having fun whilst you are working your butt off and you've got yourself a bonifide tried and true recipe for disaster.
So to be cliche, literally, never mix business with pleasure. As business - although it is business - can often be pleasurable. So you then have to decide: What pleasures you?...
As a bartender you are constantly getting hit on, and whilst this is flattering and excellent for the self esteem it can become extremely tedious, especially when said flatterers are sleazy and intoxicated or old and crusty. Even if the customer in question turns out to be both attractive and amicable you have to remember, the more you're seeing of them the more you're serving them, which means they're getting more and more inhebriated. You can learn a lot about a person by plying them full of alcohol and robbing them blind for both drinks and tips whilst you yourself are totally sober, let me tell you.
And the above is not the only ethical hurdle you can encounter. As far as hourly wages go bartending barely lines the pockets so tips become an essential part of life. And while chatting, flirting and serving the occasional over-pour can make for a very lucrative night is this really how you want to start a relationship? Performing a service for money whilst using persuasive techniques to make a little extra on the side?? Bartending is one of the world's oldest professions, but can become akin to another old and well known profession when the above techniques come into play.
In saying that you always meet lovely and interesting people when working, it's one of the best parts of the job. Should you see one of these people at your local after work or randomly out and about one night (which does happen: 'Don't I know you from somewhere?','You served me at...!') it's entirely possible you could strike up more than just pleasant conversation. And should this person be content to live in a relationship where you hardly see each other - and let's face it, that could be a good thing - you can most certainly become ensconced in a semi-normal fun and loving relationship. If you're both working different hours and not seeing each other on a regular basis this can be highly beneficial, making each time you see each other all the more special and exciting. However this is only the case should your new found friend be OK with leading separate lives; day vs night; light vs dark.
Say you do find a keeper through work one night: depending on how and where you work your new crush may be very proud of the fact they're dating a creature of the night, so much so that they brag about it constantly to all their friends and start propping up your bar on a regular basis along with all their best friends. At first it may be just them and a friend or 2 - they get to know the other creatures, maybe even the locals - and as a consequence you might give a free pint here and a sneaky shot there. It's at this point that word spreads like wildfire. Their friends tell more friends and before you know it they're taking up an entire side of the bar, getting drunk and rowdy and generally annoying everybody that crosses their path. Well-connected significant others can sometimes feel they have some kind of immunity or VIP privelige which can in turn make them arrogant and turn them into, well, a right twat.
The other down side of this scenario is that your work and personal life now become one. What was once a kind of safe haven from everday life, people and pastimes now has your new squeeze encroaching on it's boundaries. Needless to say this puts a strain on the relationship, not to mention your tip jar. An ever-present significant other majorly hinders the flirt-for-cash scheme as well as the flirt-for-fun factor. It is a well known fact that all bartenders - single or otherwise - engage in frequent flirt-for-fun activities whilst at work; another perk of the job. And let's not even go into what happens when he/she sees you being admired fro afar by another customer as there's no good way for that to end. Bring all of this together with the often annoying fact that they're having fun whilst you are working your butt off and you've got yourself a bonifide tried and true recipe for disaster.
So to be cliche, literally, never mix business with pleasure. As business - although it is business - can often be pleasurable. So you then have to decide: What pleasures you?...
Saturday 28 February 2009
Confessions of an Australian Bar Maid: Interbreeding
There are a thousand and one reasons for not dating or sleeping with your fellow work mates: flirting that interferes with work performance, favouritism, love triangles, and general awkward working conditions - especially if it all goes pear-shaped. But being a creature of the night makes it quite difficult to date outside your own kind, as your work and sleeping patterns are usually the opposite to most, especially if you're a full time bartender.
You wake wearily in the mid-afternoon, shower, eat 'breakfast' and watch a selection of bad afternoon TV; maybe surf the net and reassure family and friends that yes, you are in fact still living, breathing, and haven't dropped off the face of the earth. Then begins the nightly ritual of donning your uniform (or not, if you're lucky) and making your way to work - just as most others are making their way home to the one's they love and their couch, or even to your establishment for a bevvy. 'But what of the others?' you might ask. 'Surely you meet single, eligible humans whilst working'. And this is a valid point. But dating the clientele, well, that's a whole nother blog post.
The real worry here folks is your colleuges; your chums; the steady crew of people you see every single night and spend more time with than any of your family or friends. Every night you're together, hour upon hour, trapped in an area no larger than an aeroplane toilet, serving, chatting, bitching, joking, laughing, playing... accidentally bumping into each other... brushing up against each other...
And so it begins. The taunting, the teasing, the flirting - bringing a new and raw excitement to the workplace which inevitably carries over into the staff room, then on to the iconical 'staffies'. Staffies - aka staff drinks - happen mostly everynight, or sometimes just on weekends. They can happen at your work with a few cheeky pints on the sly, or move outside to the nearest late-opening local. But no matter what, staffies is a breeding ground for the formation of work romances and one night stands. One drink turns to two, then a few, and before you know it bottles are bought across the counter at closing time and taken back to some unsuspecting co-workers house for an impromptue house party. Their house is warm and cozy, everyone's tipsy, there's couches, there's beds - you can pretty much guess the rest. Sometimes it takes only one staffies, sometimes it takes a few. But no matter how hard you try you cannot escape the nocturnal naughtiness of the after-work drink.
Then comes the aftermath.
Even if you actually remember the events that took place this isn't going to ease the nervous tension that comes from the fact that you know everyone at work knows exactly what happened - and they sometimes remember even better than you do. When your next shift comes around you hopelessly try to avoid discussion of the subject at all costs (except with one best friend and confidant - we all have one), and the prying eyes and stares. It's about then that reality sets in and you ponder the following critical questions that strangely alluded you earlier:
- Do they have a partner?
- Does everyone at work like them, or did you just sleep with the person that everyone secretly hates?
- Does someone else at work like them, and are they at this very moment plotting to kill you?
- Are they in fact 'doing the rounds', and have you just become one on a list of many?
- Does this person actually like you?
- Do you even like them?
- Are you going to live happily ever after, or are they going to ignore you, avoid you, and request never to be on the same bar as you again?
And so on and so forth. I think we can all agree this type of paranoia is unhealthy in any situation, especially in the work environment. But alas, this is what becomes of creatures of the night when interbreeding takes place. Don't get me wrong - I know of many instances where workmates have hooked up and gone on to live very happy and normal lives. But sadly I feel the relationship graveyard that lies beneath every bar and pub claims many more lives than it spares - so beware...
Thursday 5 February 2009
Confessions of an Australian Barmaid: Life on 'The Other Side'
I've always worked at night, mainly as a means to fund my overseas journey's. But as I grow older and comments such as 'I don't know how you do it!' and 'Don't you miss going out?' become more and more common, it's become clearer to me that I actually like, even prefer working at night. Besides the obvious fact that I'm earning and saving money whilst still being in a social environment, I've been recently enlightened to the fact that I am so used to being behind the bar that it is difficult for me to happily exist on the other side.
Let's say I head out to a bar, pub or to see a band - one of my most favourite pastimes, hence why I work mainly in venues. Getting a table, a seat or seeing the actual band is only one element of your night. The rest is spent queueing for the toilet and for drinks - and if not at your or your fellow creature's place of work - paying full price for them as well! We creatures of the night get used to preferential treatment after a while. At our frequent haunts the unspoken code allows for cutting in line, free drinks, shots, and stashing your belongings in the staff room. But on the other side - no, that'll be 2 pounds per item thanks!
And then there's 'seeing' the act in the literal sense. In a venue of any size odds are you're not going to be the tallest person in the room. In fact, it's more likely you're going to have to push your way, ducking and weaving, trying hopelessly to get to the front, all the while spilling your overpriced drink and receiving lethal stares from all in your path. That is, of course, unless you get there before the masses, in which case you have the choice of standing tall and staking your claim but give up all hope of ever going to the bar or toilet - as you and I both know, they'd just as soon jump in your grave.
A friend and collegue at my previous day job scoffed when I said I got to see bands for a living and snorted 'Yeah - all the way from the bar!'. Yeah - all the way at the back of the room on a risen platform full of personal space and alcohol, with perfect sight lines and a lockable gate should anyone try to jump in my place.
Who'd want that eh??
Let's say I head out to a bar, pub or to see a band - one of my most favourite pastimes, hence why I work mainly in venues. Getting a table, a seat or seeing the actual band is only one element of your night. The rest is spent queueing for the toilet and for drinks - and if not at your or your fellow creature's place of work - paying full price for them as well! We creatures of the night get used to preferential treatment after a while. At our frequent haunts the unspoken code allows for cutting in line, free drinks, shots, and stashing your belongings in the staff room. But on the other side - no, that'll be 2 pounds per item thanks!
And then there's 'seeing' the act in the literal sense. In a venue of any size odds are you're not going to be the tallest person in the room. In fact, it's more likely you're going to have to push your way, ducking and weaving, trying hopelessly to get to the front, all the while spilling your overpriced drink and receiving lethal stares from all in your path. That is, of course, unless you get there before the masses, in which case you have the choice of standing tall and staking your claim but give up all hope of ever going to the bar or toilet - as you and I both know, they'd just as soon jump in your grave.
A friend and collegue at my previous day job scoffed when I said I got to see bands for a living and snorted 'Yeah - all the way from the bar!'. Yeah - all the way at the back of the room on a risen platform full of personal space and alcohol, with perfect sight lines and a lockable gate should anyone try to jump in my place.
Who'd want that eh??
Confessions of an Australian Barmaid: Introduction
It takes a very special person to become a bartender, and by gosh, there are a lot of us. Some are in it for the money, saving their menial wage and tips to get them through university, or to don their backpack and escape the ho-hum of reality, or to simply keep the backpack on their back in a foreign land. Others like the social side, meeting new people and perfecting the art of alcohol peddling, be it in a pint or with fruit and umbrella on the side. But the most important thing to remember is that no matter the reason for becoming a bartender, we are all still human... or are we?...
A collegue of mine once referred to himself as a BSU - a Beer Serving Unit - and at times it is a little like that. When there's a constant sea of thirsty faces staring at you, eyeing up their drink of choice while secretly critiquing you on your skill, style and speed, it does become a little less 'How's life? Love? What's your poison?' and a little more 'Have your exact order and money ready so we can make this as painless as possible'.
Of course this all depends on the type of establishment you're working in. As most of my experience comes from live music venues and busy cocktail bars service needs to be prompt with at least a hint of a smile. However if it's your local watering hole, pub or sports bar we're speaking of, a drink order is less of a transaction and more of a friend-making exercise. An alcohol-fuelled social experiment if you will.
Either way the bartender will rely on his or her secret powers - more of which you will learn of in coming blogs - to tend to the customer without fuss, without fight, and hopefully with the never obligatory but always endeavoured 'keep the change' at the finish line. It is true, we can be rude, impatient, impersonable, even condescending at times, but there are numerous and varied reasons for this - all valid, and all experienced almost every single night. Not to mention the fact we're most likely tired, hung over and in need of a drink ourselves.
Now depending on said establishment the bartender may have a drink hidden somewhere under the bar, behind the till or already in their blood stream. It's these little tricks of the trade that keep us going, keep us coming back for more.
And then, of course, there's the lifestyle.
The behind-the-scenes.
The afterhours.
The underbelly of the nocturnal few and the secrets only they share.
For behind the taps and glasses, the uniforms and smiles, the nip pourers and ice buckets, is a world of lies, lock-in's, love and torrid affairs that make Melrose Place look like a Hillsongs convention.
In this series I hope to give you a unique look into the hidden world of bartending and afterhours culture that lies beneath every city.
As all is not what it seems.
And it seems there is a lot more fun to be had at work than there should be...
A collegue of mine once referred to himself as a BSU - a Beer Serving Unit - and at times it is a little like that. When there's a constant sea of thirsty faces staring at you, eyeing up their drink of choice while secretly critiquing you on your skill, style and speed, it does become a little less 'How's life? Love? What's your poison?' and a little more 'Have your exact order and money ready so we can make this as painless as possible'.
Of course this all depends on the type of establishment you're working in. As most of my experience comes from live music venues and busy cocktail bars service needs to be prompt with at least a hint of a smile. However if it's your local watering hole, pub or sports bar we're speaking of, a drink order is less of a transaction and more of a friend-making exercise. An alcohol-fuelled social experiment if you will.
Either way the bartender will rely on his or her secret powers - more of which you will learn of in coming blogs - to tend to the customer without fuss, without fight, and hopefully with the never obligatory but always endeavoured 'keep the change' at the finish line. It is true, we can be rude, impatient, impersonable, even condescending at times, but there are numerous and varied reasons for this - all valid, and all experienced almost every single night. Not to mention the fact we're most likely tired, hung over and in need of a drink ourselves.
Now depending on said establishment the bartender may have a drink hidden somewhere under the bar, behind the till or already in their blood stream. It's these little tricks of the trade that keep us going, keep us coming back for more.
And then, of course, there's the lifestyle.
The behind-the-scenes.
The afterhours.
The underbelly of the nocturnal few and the secrets only they share.
For behind the taps and glasses, the uniforms and smiles, the nip pourers and ice buckets, is a world of lies, lock-in's, love and torrid affairs that make Melrose Place look like a Hillsongs convention.
In this series I hope to give you a unique look into the hidden world of bartending and afterhours culture that lies beneath every city.
As all is not what it seems.
And it seems there is a lot more fun to be had at work than there should be...
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