170 - Having no common sense

Just recently, I discontinued my post as a bartender in a Belgian restaurant. I was so good by the end of the three months in which I worked that a part of me didn't want my first ever job to surcease. The restaurant I worked at was already a little bit understaffed, and I felt like I was abandoning a team, like an integral cog in the Belgian machine.

Seeing as this company has treated me well, I agreed to help train this one guy who was hoping to replace me in the bar. He came in for a lunch shift to try out, because lunch is an easier time to go through everything than dinner, due to fewer customers. I thought it would be fun for me, to run through all the morning, afternoon and closing duties with him, to guide him, and to encourage him, and to observe, in an evident way, how much I actually learned in the short space of three months.

By the end of the lunch hour, though, I wanted to tear my hair out.

Speaking honestly, and by that, I mean without exaggeration: he was soooooooooo bad at this job. He would open a bottle of still water, pour a glass of Coke and produce a cup of coffee, and for every little thing, he would bring it to my face and ask me, "Is this okay?"

Uh, hello? It's a glass of Coke. You put ice in a short glass, pour the Coke in, and place a slice of lemon on top. Easy, quick and simple.

As for the coffee, you get the jug of filtered coffee, pour it in a coffee cup, place it on a saucer with a small coffee spoon. A bit more complex, but nothing a full-grown man cannot perform, right?

But come on... to open a bottle of water? You get a bottle opener, position it on the bottle cap in any number of ways, apply some pressure to achieve some leverage, until the cap pops right off. Voilà, the bottle of water has been accomplished. Not exactly rocket science, now, is it?

For each and every small detail, he would ask me to confirm that it was okay. But you know what the funny thing was?

The funny thing was that the stuff he brought to the pass were not okay. He put iced lemon tea in a short glass, when the diameters of the lemon wheels are practically the same as the height of the glass. Where's the fun of poking three lemon slices to the bottom of a short glass that's already filled to the brim with ice?

And why would you place a lemon slice garnish at the bottom of a glass of Coke? Does that not defeat the purpose of using it as a garnish? It goes: ice, Coke, lemon... not lemon, ice, Coke. Can you remember that? Is that going to be alright for you to handle?

And you know, even your still water has fault in it, because the order asked for sparkling water. The two words are quite differently spelled, maybe you have ADHD?

And listen to this... He poured the milk, and the brown sugar, into the coffee, for the customer, before he served it. Some people may not want milk, some people may not want brown sugar, and everyone doesn't want you to stir their coffee for them. They might think you're poisoning their drinks.

Oh, my God, I thought these things were common sense??? I THOUGHT THESE THINGS WERE COMMON-DUH!-SENSE. You don't have to work in F&B at all to know these sorts of things. All you need is a brain.

It's funny because the trainee told me that he prepared well for this job. He told me he's worked in a few places before, and has taken a bartending course.

You don't need to take a course to tend bar. So, what, if you memorize two hundred cocktails? Chances are people are going to ask you to pour a beer, or get them a glass of Coke, and, uh, maybe have a chat? Bartending is not that glamorous of a job, and it's not always about fancy bottle juggling and mixing drinks. 98% of the time, you pour a beer, or you get them iced water. So, what the Hell, if you memorize two hundred cocktails? And if your school is so good, tell me, is that how they taught you to serve iced lemon tea at the Bartending Academy?

The job is about customer service, and confidence, and quick thinking, and you can't learn these things at school.

But most important of all, and I suspect the case is the same for all fields of work, to be a bartender, it requires common sense. Imagine if you were a customer, and serve drinks like you're serving your own mother. All you need is horse sense, and the rest is simple.

167 - When people are impolite

At my job, I work alongside another bartender. He's actually been bartending for years, and has way more experience than I do, but there are some things I just do not understand about his behavior, because he lacks some qualities that I would normally expect from an experienced barman.

One of these things is the fact that he has extremely bad manners. There are many times during the crazy hours of our job (6pm to midnight) where the two of us must co-operate in order to handle all the food, drink, and customers, properly. Sometimes, I'll ask him to help pour that gin and tonic, and one coke, while I, at the same time, pour three glasses of beer. That's just a typical drinks order from a five-person table in our restaurant.

Even though I may sound bossy and rushed, I always ask him to help me out with some large orders, and I follow it up with the magic word, "please". When the job is done, I say "thanks, man", because I know I would've handled it much slower without his aid. He, on the other hand, never follows up a request with "please", and he never responds with "thank you" after I help him out. It just irks me because I was brought up to be well-mannered, while he offers not the slightest hint of such courtesy.

He never says "excuse me" either. He's a big guy, which means I always have to let him have the most convenient route while we both navigate around the bar, lest I might get trampled. He is so rude, and so unknowingly aggressive. He just talks in my ear while I'm taking a customer's order, nudges me while I'm pouring six glasses of wine, taps my shoulder while I'm cutting a lemon, practically knocks me over while I'm squatting down to grab bottles of beer out of the fridges, pushes into me while I'm carrying two cups of hot coffee, bumps into me while I'm cleaning the shelves...

In this respect, I hate working with him. First of all, it adds risk of injury to my job. Plus, it just makes me want to swear at him (e.g., "Two glasses of hot water, please, for table 5!" ...graceless asshole).

That's not good.

That ain't good at all.

165 - Bad breath

At my workplace, I am not the sole bartender there is. There is one other, and he is a tall, Nepalese man in his twenties. He has a lot more experience doing this than I do. He can make a large variety of drinks, tell a lot of good jokes to keep the atmosphere buoyant, reach bottles and glasses on high shelves effortlessly, and perhaps best of all, spot the beautiful ladies at the bar as soon as they appear. There are some things that he still has to learn, though, and one of them is the fact that he has bad breath.

Restaurants and bars get pretty noisy, especially around 8 to 9pm. The music is blaring, people are chit-chatting, and the boss, the waiters, the waitresses, the barmen, the chef, and the sous-chefs, are all shouting at each other about this table and that, in order to keep the food and drink running smoothly.

And since it's so loud, us bartenders must sometimes resort to approaching each other, up close, to communicate. And when my partner comes up to me, and wants to clandestinely mumble something to me about this red wine nearly running out of stock, or how that customer over at table 28 is a total asshole, that moment is when I get a whiff of his odorous sigh.

I'll admit, I don't have the best oral hygiene. For the past few years, there are times when I'm just too tired and lazy to brush my teeth. I try to brush my teeth during my morning shower, but you see, keeping my teeth clean is not the point. The point is, I chew on gum, and I nibble breath mints, and I eat mint chocolate chip-flavored ice cream, in order to keep my breath fresh. (Okay, that last one sort of works against me in the long-run. I'm just joking about that.)

I don't mind if people don't use any soap when they shower, so long as they use deodorant/perfume before I see them (but of course, using soap is... preferred). There are just some things people need to do to be presentable around others. My bartending friend is fit to be seen, but his breath is utterly revolting.

163 - When people complain about being tired

When people tell me they're tired, I don't know what exactly they would like me to do to help them. Is this just something that is a 'problem', an 'issue', a matter that deserves multiple people's attention? Does it make them feel better if they confide in me about their exhaustion? Or do they expect me to make them a double espresso, made with extra strong-tasting Coffea arabica beans, and with an additional dose of sugar/sweetener added? Or do they expect me to sing a lullaby to them? Perhaps count sheep with them? Get them home and in their jammies and tuck them in?

It's annoying how people say they're tired in the morning, although, it is understandable since they just woke up. But then again, people also say they're tired after they finish their dinner, and when they' realize just how late it is when they stay up in the middle of the night, and the next day, they complain, yet again, about their tiredness after vigorous exercise during the daytime, and after a good long afternoon of playing games, or work, or day out with the family.

You see, I am tired, if you want me to be frank. I work from 11:30am 'til past midnight for six days a week as a bartender. I have to keep a smile on my face, and talk to customers, my coworkers, and my boss constantly, as if I enjoy washing and polishing a thousand glasses a day. I have to pour over a hundred glasses of wine in a day, over twenty cups of coffee, and over two hundred glasses of beer. I have to remember the names of over fifty different beers, and what their corresponding bottles, glasses, and coasters, look like, as well as memorize each glass and bottle's locations amongst the shelves in the bar, their brewing methods and distinct features, their country of origin, and their prices. I have to remember all the food on the menu, all the ingredients in each dish, how they're cooked, what the chef recommends, what the manager recommends, what wine goes well with what meat, what sauce goes well with what meat, and to which customer every dish coming out of the kitchen should be served. I also need to know a lot of miscellaneous crap, like where to find the spare limes to make garnishable lime wedges, where to find the milk, where to find the various kinds of tea bags (English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Green, Peppermint, etc...), which dial or switch adjusts and controls which light in the restaurant, what music to play at what hour and with what atmosphere, and which credit cards we take and which we don't.........

Uh, of course, I'm tired.

But I don't complain about it, because that doesn't help anybody. It never helped me when I was primary school, 'cause that just made my parents bring me home earlier to put me to sleep. It doesn't help at school, it distracts you, it gives you a reason to not pay attention. It also gives you a reason to be lazy at work. And It doesn't help when you run, when you swim, whenever you do exercise, 'cause that one breath spent on expressing your fatigue could've been used instead on invigorating you one breath bit further.

I suggest people should just suck it up. If you're that tired, if you're really tired, then forget about your work, or your studies, or your friends and family, all your responsibility, and just go home, go to bed, go relax, go to sleep, go take a break, go rest your eyes, until you're not tired, and generally, just shut up, 'cause I get most of my tiredness, from listening to that one line too often: "I'm tired~"

Argh. People can be so damn whiny. (Oops, was that a bartender's pun?)

162 - When your coworkers shift all their duties on to you

I've been bartending for over a week now, and I've been doing exceptionally well at it. I come in every morning, pour myself a glass of orange juice, and for the following twelve hours, I do my job as if I love it, because I truly do.

I can see the same passion and work ethic in the eyes and behavior of the man that hired me. He owns four restaurants, and in order to fully respect my Boss, I must adopt his internal devotion to providing customers with high-quality service.

The thing is, though, I can't say the same about some of my coworkers, especially this one guy, who I will give the alias, Gaston, for now.

As people in the food and drink industry, us waiters, waitresses and barmen, all have our preferences as to who we want to serve. My Boss likes to serve the big tables, keeping track of what twelve different people are eating and drinking at the same time, while I like to cater specially to the customers who seem to be a little wealthier. My logic is that my extra bit of effort put into serving these diners will generate more tips, and therefore more profit for the business, and more wages for the entire staff, including me, of course.

Now, Gaston is an assistant manager. Gaston enjoys what he does, and is good at what he does -but that's only if he's focused enough. What I mean is, he likes to talk to the ladies.

It ticks me off. Because he then gets too distracted with his lady-friends to actually do his job. He tells me to clean this, pour this into that, hand this over to that person over there, while he gets to entertain beautiful women sitting at the bar.

He shouldn't even be behind the bar. And I hate how every evening, he orders me to clean the beer taps, and the coffee machine. They're really annoying to clean, to tell you the truth. So shouldn't we take turns cleaning it, as it's such an undesirable job?

I guess not. Just because he's my superior, wearing the black shirt that demonstrates so, then I, wearing the white shirt that signifies my inferiority, must always perform these difficult and tedious duties.

161 - When your boss gets impatient or bossy

So today, I started working at my new bartending job. This is my first job, and with it, I got a new boss.

Actually, I got three new bosses. I think one is the owner, one is the manager, and one works the floor. What the difference is between their three jobs is beyond my apprehension, but I'm sure that the three of them are all equally important in keeping the Belgian restaurant/bar I now work in running.

So let's start with the owner. I think he's French. I was delicately handling this piece of weirdly shaped drinkware (pictured right), when all of a sudden, he exhales a humongous sigh. I look at him, and he's shaking his head. He comes over, and he tells me not to be afraid of using force when cleaning the glasses. Now, look at the glass of Kwak. The glass looks fragile, doesn't it? Why the Hell would I use force...? I'm just trying not to break anything!

The Belgian manager told me that I looked bored when I polished glasses, and that I should always up my game. Hell, yeah, I'm bored. After wiping a hundred glasses, it gets boring! (I guess he has a point, though. Bartenders need to look energetic.)

The Chinese floor manager was the most impatient. He kept making kissing noises to get my attention, instead of actually calling my name. What that's about, I have no idea. He would then direct me to something, just to make me move here and there, climb this ladder, place these bottles in the lower fridges, clean the glasses on the left, wipe the coffee maker clean on the right, check behind me for any new orders, look in front when polishing, turn back to answer phone calls, turn back again to pour beer, one Stella Artois, two Leffe Brunes, one Kwak, two Hoegaardens, one cranberry juice - no ice, three Cokes, one Leffe Blonde, polish these glasses, go get more ice from the kitchen, go throw out the trash, go get more milk, go give a pint of beer to the chefs in the kitchen who will use it to flavor their mussels Belgian-style (????????), there's another order for three Leffe Blondes!, one fruit punch, two glasses of housewine, that tab is being paid for, tell Alex to serve these gin and tonics to those ladies over there...


This was all over the course of two hours, so I had plenty of time, and it was okay. It all went down smoother than I expected, and nothing broke, nothing spilt, nothing went by with flaws. That's not to say that I don't have a newly discovered respect for bartenders, though. They have to remember a ton of stuff. I guess bosses are meant to be bossy, in that, they're just trying to train me.

That Chinese floor manager still could've helped a bit, though...