We’ve been officially open for 8 days, and we beat out original sales on last Saturday (Day #2) by $3,000 ($10,000 total).
We got rocked.
I don’t mean that we were slammed, or busy, or crazy, we got our asses handed to us, we were ROCKED. One bartender, Momma Bear, pushed out over 3,000$ of drinks by herself on service bar. I had three stacks of money, a shaker and a beer bottle in my hand every second of the shift. It started out slow as a low rumble, and then it crescendoed multiple times. It was crazy. And it was awesome. Dawn was doubled over coughing up her lungs trying to keep the gunk from getting her down, the two barbacks we had were so stupid, we were literally 10 minutes away from completely crashing by 11:30 pm, Hot Stuff was plowing through the lines at the main end of the bar while I shimmied down the sides taking turns with Dawn trying to get everyone situated. In 10-20 minutes, we pulled Dean Martin back to bartend with us and everything literally calmed, we could all feel ourselves relaxing knowing that we had full mixers, ice, rotated cold beer, backups on ice, fruit, etc., and so forth. The shift went smoothly afterwards and ending on a positive note. I’m crammed into a bad, inefficient space with four awesome people and I don’t hate anyone. Peach was involved in making drinks with us all night and it was splendid, her smiles kept us in a great mood. The band we had tonight was RADICAL, a blues and cover band that wasn’t too loud, nor too soft, just perfect, and when they broke it up with dance music, we immediately started grooving.
However, we’re not built for speed. No service well, we tool one together with a huge ice tub, a fruit tray, whatever mixing tins/glasses we have, a sink, etc. NO ROOM. Big issue when service bar is a huge chunk of overall sales, if not MOST of overall sales, subtracting food and bar sales. We have tiny ice bins, no labeled mixers (is this sour, OJ or pineapple? Hmmm….) and no set up stations to be able to mass produce drinks for people. No glasses or tins fit into large tins, so I’ve pretty much, unless a shot is huge, just put ice into a 16 oz plastic cup, turned a 10 oz on top, and used that to shake everything.
September came in with a group of friends who were rude, obnoxious, and annoying. I was pumping out loads of stupid shots for them, dealing with drunken ADD antics, chair dancing, loud singing, so on and so forth, and then…..AND THEN….
One round of Fun Dips? OK. Four trips to ascertain the tab main friend was ordering from, which server, which table, which color, which booze, how many, how many ways? OK, annoying, but, whatever. To order the same rounds from three different bartenders? I’m staring at Eiffel, both of us with stacks of shots and a full shaker of some gross sugary concoction, and we’re thinking….what a waste. I finally turned them over to Eiffel because I couldn’t put up with them anymore. I kept my cool and just walked away and she got them away from us and eventually cut off.
Payday: 1/2 Frangelico, a splash of cream, 1/2 Amaretto. As I write this I actually need to double check it.
Bottle Rocket: Red Bull with a splash of grenadine (SPLASH!) into a large glass, and then blue vodka with a splash of blue curacao into a shot glass, the shot is bombed. It’s supposed to resemble a Bottle Rocket popsicle.
~Comings and Goings~
SoShy no-called/no-showed today. It seems she might have stolen some money last night because we were $100 short (so I made $175, not $200, it wasn’t an impact on my wallet, it’s the principle of karma, thievery, etc.). I never pegged her for being untrustworthy, really.
One of the barbacks who will not stop talking, will not focus, will stand still when there’s four bartenders running in circles around him, and moves fast in all the wrong ways when we need him to slow down. Dean Martin killed it, this guy didn’t. I don’t have time to hold hands. I’m kind and gracious and try to be understanding if someone is new but has a good attitude, but laziness, a bad attitude, or sheer lack of common sense defeat any kind of re-education and I wound up just being short or just ignoring him.
And on a final note, me to Hot Momma (note, not a portrayal of my stance on sex, but just rolling with the metaphors): “Bartending here is like sex, you just grab what you can when you can, be prepared to bend around a lot, and whatever you do, just keep doing it if its right, stop if its wrong”.