Confessions of an Australian Bar Maid: Creature Chameleons – The Venue Duty Manager

Imagine being a manager of sorts for your own household – ensuring everyone under your roof keeps things clean, does their respective jobs, takes time out to have a break every now and then, ensure everyone is fed and watered, ensure visitors don’t overstay their welcome and leave things exactly as they found them, that someone is always answering the phone, that no undesirables cross the threshold, and so on and so forth. Kind of like a Mum!

That in a nutshell is the job of a venue duty manager. Every job that exists within a venue comes under their rule, be it bar, security, band, promoter, cleaner or driver. Everyone who’s anyone who wants anything done, answered, undone or cleaned will be looking for the duty manager. Their powers reach far and wide and must be adhered to no matter who you are.

You can spot them almost instantly in any venue. They have a 2-way radio, a pen, a sharpie, a role of gaffa tape and a bottle opener always somewhere on their person, and they walk with a look of intense concentration and determination on their face. Concentrating on the 1 million things they have to do and determined not be asked yet another stupid question by some half wit staff member or band manager about rider, dishcloths, beer taps and the like.

Depending on the scale of the event this concentration and determination may be given then chance to wane mid-evening when the band is on stage, when the punters are sufficiently distracted and boozed up and staff are having their breaks. It is in this minuscule lull that the duty manager may possibly have the chance to rest one bum cheek on a chair, half-scratch and itch they’ve had all night and inhale one tenth of a cigarette. But once the band cease to play the excitement unfolds once again as punters lose belongings or fall down stairs, tour vans demand release from garages and bar tills count up wrong again and again and again.

But once the shows over that’s it right? The duty manager is off the hook? He can go home, can he not? Oh no my friends. For with great responsibility comes many keys. Many many keys. Keys to front doors and back doors, to pool tables, and more importantly, to liquor cabinets. And there’s nothing bar staff like more than an after work staffie or 12, especially when they don’t have to lock up.

Confessions of an Australian Bar Maid: Demographical Study – Metalheads

You can see the fear in the eyes of pedestrians and drivers alike when a metal or goth crowd descends on a venue. With their flowing black locks, metal studded clothes and jewellry, evil looking t-shirts and pasty white skin your average person tends to run for the hills. But as the old adage goes, never judge a book by its cover my friends.

Metal music is loud, aggressive, abusive and can sometimes depict violence, but in my experience their crowds do not follow suit. They may look the part, talk the talk and walk the walk, but Metalheads are usually those nerdy kids who never said boo in high school and usually got beaten up, or a down to earth tradesman that looks like the Hulk due to lugging materials all day long.

For starters they hardly drink. If you’re a bartender who doesn’t like metal working a metal show you’re out of luck as you ain’t going to be busy. At the risk of generalising here, Metal crowds are usually from the outskirts of town so they always drive. They may have a couple in the beginning but once the bands come on there only be time for head-banging and fist-pumping. The rest of their time is spent detangling hair from aforementioned studs, searching for lost clothing and shoes and smoking outside.

And as the music is so loud and aggressive they must get all that out themselves whilst head-banging as they can be the nicest people in the world. Always amped for the show, always in high spirits and always yelling ‘Yeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh!’. So next time you get caught in the pre or post-show throws of a metal gig don’t be scared. Unless its that band I saw from Europe once that had pigs heads impaled on their mic stands and animal blood all over them. Stay away from them, that shit was weird.

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...