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...

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??

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...