Your Bartender Hates You ... Here's Why

I'm going to say it even if no one else will. Secretly and passionately, your bartender hates your f-ing guts. Yes, I mean you. He or she loves your money but if you're prone to commit one or more of the following bar faux pas--and be honest with your self--then you're the bane of the barman.

1.) "I'll take that with no ice, in a large glass and make it strong."
Ok. Fine. But you're still getting 1.5 ounces. You see, the company pays for all the liquor on the shelves. It's not free and you're essentially asking something for free. The mark-ups are not outrageous; we order the liquor, polish the glassware, build the bar, pay rent and more with the pennies on top. Try it at a bank. Walk up to the teller and ask them to top off your pay check with an extra $20. See what happens.

2.) "Is [so-and-so] working tonight?"
File this one under "C", along with the last one, for cheap-ass. If they're asking for someone else, who is--after all--clearly not in sight, it's because they have no intention of paying full price for drinks. Once again, for the slower set, bars are businesses. Someone giving you free drinks is essentially selling the stool upon which you sit to the debtor's house. Don't get me wrong, a comped drink is nice, but much less so if you come to expect it.

3.) Hitting on Women That Clearly Hate You More Than the Bartender
It sounds like a joke. How about the guy who, after hitting on a solitary girl at the bar that left in disgust, turned to the lady bartender and laid down the same rap. The lady bartender, of course, laughed. That is, laughed at his expense. Too bad its not a joke. I've seen somebody play the line all the way down the bar. So why not read the non-verbal cues! If the whole bar knows your striking out, why don't you?
Walk away while you still have a shred of diginity. (They never do, do they?)

4.) Ordering Tea When the Bar is Three Deep
So why do we get upset when you order tea when the bar is busy? Because tea involves multiple steps, with each step being in-depth and at some far away, remote point in the restaurant.

Step 1: There is usually a box of tea. It gets used every third night and is kept somewhere shoved over, under or by the coffee machinery. It's rarely stocked and rarely kept in an obvious place. First we find this, bring the selection to you and you stand their stammering: Morrocan Mint or Lemon Verbana?

Step 2: Get the tea pot, tea tray, tea cup, tea saucer, tea spoon, sugar packets, Equal packets, Splenda packets, milk, honey and lemon. No explanantion needed of why this sucks, right?

Step 3: Stand there like a shithead waiting for hot water while the busboy amorously foams the cappucino.

Step 4: Serve and smile, wait for the 15 to 20% tip on $2.75. (For those who are slow, that's $.41 to $.55.)

5.) "I used to be a bartender."
I love this one. A bartender, really? I've studied and memorized the profiles of hundreds of liquors; even more, I know hundreds of recipes and how to mix them by heart; I've spent nights dreaming of the components of vermouth that you jokingly (not your own joke, I might add) say I should "wave" in front of the Martini; I know the recipe for a Mai Tai from the original made in 1944 and it doesn't have a drop of grenadine; I've studied wine for years so I can describe your Chardonnay that you thought was too expensive at $8; I've polished a thousand or more glasses; I might as well have a major in chemistry and a minor in pyschology; I know the history of bartending and have read every major recipe book from "How to Mix Drinks" to "The Joy of Mixology" and you, jackass, who have spent six months in some shitty bar or club slinging beer, shots and L.I. tea say to me: "Oh yeah, I used to be a bartender." Wrong, twat muffin. You were a bar jockey. So don't bring it up again.

Now it may seem as though I'm some bitter, bitter bartender, but I'm not. I love guests who love me, who respect the profession and don't want free shit. Everyone gets treated with respect at my bar. Even me.