Festival Faux Pas

Summertime is festival season here in Central Oregon, and with that comes the hordes of tourists that want to see what “small town” life in Oregon is really like. Apparently, life here consists of getting wobbly in the beer garden at “Whateverthedrunk” festival is going on that weekend, then expecting to get served at the local watering hole. Oops! As I was in the midst of getting my proverbial ass kicked last night, four people deep at the bar, I notice a guy half slumped over, sporting the thousand-yard stare. I left him alone for about ten minutes to not have to deal with cutting him off, hoping the issue would resolve itself and he would get the hint that he was not being served and just leave. Nope, he was determined to get a drink, or just forgot where he was and what he was doing, either way, he was taking up valuable real estate so I had to recognize his existence. I said “Hey! Sorry man but I can’t serve you, you look like you’ve had fun today so I’m going to have to say goodnight, nothing personal, have a good night.” Then he looks up and says “What? No, I’ve been sitting here for forty-five minutes, you haven’t even given me a drink! I’m fine!” I just looked at him and said “No, you haven’t been served because you’re already drunk, on top of that, you haven’t been here for forty-five minutes. If you had been sitting here for that long waiting for a drink then you are either drunk or an idiot. I don’t have time to argue with you, go away.” He started to say something and the guy next to him says “Do you really want to piss that guy off? He’s a nice guy, you should probably just go.” (I bought that guy a beer) I guess my point is, just because you are not at home, treat the people and establishments that you go to on vacation like they are your regular places where you live. Would you give your local bartender a hard time because they are doing their job? If the answer is yes, then you are probably just a jerk anyway.

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You Can't Disguise Stupid

Meriam Webster has several definitions for a chameleon, one of which is “One that is subject to quick or frequent change especially in appearance.” Which brings me to last night’s highlight, who was trying to be a chameleon by changing shirts after getting cut off, but only accomplished looking the fool and pissing me off. When you enter a bar and the first thing out of your mouth is “Fuck Idaho! Never go there! Those cops suck!” you will be judged, not for your personal views on Idaho or cops, but because you are acting like a drunk jackass. The second time the drunkard came in, he was wearing a different shirt and got into a verbal spat with one of the other bartenders and was asked to leave and not come back for the night. He should have really taken that cue and went to chill out, but oh no, he came in a third time and called me an asshole because he was refused service and argued with me and told me to call the cops to have him removed. You sir have now officially pushed me over the line and will receive a verbal lashing, at the very least, and the possibility of physical removal, which fortunately did not happen as he made one good decision and left with minimal disturbance and chose not to return for the night. I thought to myself “This guy is going to get arrested tonight.” He did, not because of us, but because he must have taken it to the next level somewhere else. Thank you Karma!

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First Impressions

When someone walks up to the bar and you can almost smell them from fifty feet away, it is really hard to force yourself to want to engage them in conversation, no matter how nice they are. Then when you do make your way over to talk to them and the first thing they say is “Hey man! I’m a homeless climber living out of my car, what’s cheap?” The response they can expect is “Hi! Can I see your ID?” Then act totally surprised when they give you an expired, temporary paper driver’s license that is in pieces. I would prefer that he had the proper documentation and spend his money with us, but alas, it was not to be. I did, however, appreciate his positive attitude and would love him to come back after he gets his permanent form of identification from his parent’s house, because that’s where thirty year olds have that sort of thing sent. And when he picks that ID up, if his parents are anything like mine, he will have a fresh stick of deodorant to apply to his underarms, and possibly other regions, before he comes in to get a drink. It would be greatly appreciated.

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Hugs and Helmets

When going into a bar, I’m sure most people’s thoughts running through their head do not include “Hey, I think I’ll interrupt the bartender while he is super busy taking someone’s order to see if they have Fireball and then act like a jerk when he ignores me then tells me to wait my turn.” Well, you guessed it, that is exactly what happened. Now, while the direct offender is a great source of frustration in this situation, the real problem will have to fall upon the parents of said idiot. People, teach your kids manners when they are young so I don’t have to do it for you when they get older, it’s not my job. Getting your kids drunk so they make bad decisions, then have to call you at three in the morning to pick them up from the police station, yeah, that’s my job, and once again, back to that parenting thing. It’s not TV’s fault, or the schools and teacher’s fault, or their dumbass friends, it’s your fault for not giving them the tools to take on grownup life. Now, let’s say you did try to give them a good example of how to be a good person when they grow up and they are still entitled, rude jerks that make bad decisions. Well, I think at that point you have to chalk it up to natural selection and accept them for what they are and give them lots of hugs, and a helmet.

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There Are No Stupid Questions, Only Stupid People

Part of my job as a bartender is to try to give people what they want, like most service industry jobs, that is how you get repeat customers. Most of the time that is not a difficult task, you fill the glass up with the preferred adult beverage and voila! Now, there are those situations where someone isn’t sure about what they want so you do your best to steer them in the right direction by asking a few questions about their preferences. Then there are those people that think they know what they want but don’t actually have a clue because they have no idea about what they are talking about, kind of like trying to order a hamburger at a place that only sells cupcakes, much like the guy last night. He comes up to me and says “You know, I want a cocktail, but I don’t want it to be strong.” I proceed to tell him that our cocktails are poured pretty stiff as a general rule but I could accommodate his request. Then I asked him what he would like me to make him and he says “I think I’ll have a Manhattan.” Now, I took a second to gather the proper words, because I think a small part of my brain that is in charge of restraining the smart-ass comments from blasting this guy off of his barstool just short circuited. So, with as little sarcasm as possible, I asked “You do realize that a Manhattan has nothing but alcohol in it, don’t you?” (My eye may have just twitched a bit while I was asking that) To which he says “Oh yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve been out.” Seriously? That’s your best excuse? After having to bite my lip to keep myself from trying to explain why that statement made NO sense at all, I politely gave him a drink suggestion that might be a little more up his alley. Look guys, if you don’t know what you are ordering and are trying to look cool in front of a cute girl, stop, remember that you probably aren’t cool, and play it safe by ordering a beer. Also, you might just save an old bartender’s life by not triggering an aneurism.

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