Tonight was bad drama wise. It’s been exponentially curving up in the past week but, tonight was bad.

It was bad.

We’re talking September, September’s husband and child spectating, Momma Bear sticking her nose in, Princess Peach sobbing, Bossman getting frustrated, and Q trying to run interference with her signature mix of bluntness and grace.

Apparently there’s a new element of Digital Dining we employ to process payouts. Example. Bouncer gets $90. Usually we’d take it from the drawer and then subtract $90 from the cash owed to the tips. It would be then processed in the back end. My responsibility as a bartender ends when the drawer and money get put in the office at the end of the night. Now, payouts can be entered into the POS and categorized as an expense calculated into the cash owed, so no subtracting or guessing necessary. Ever try and balance thousands of dollars in sales and several thousand in cash, tips, credit cards, etc., when two receipts are missing from the drawer? WHERE DID THIS GO!? Well, except bouncers don’t give you receipts. So, check and balance employed. I personally love it.

Somewhere along the line, September miscategorized this (this is a massive nutshell). But then again she could have done the Waltz of the Flowers in a Snuggie with a stick up her ass. No matter. The aftermath is important, because…

Shit went Chernobyl….

September likes her pats on the back, and going from managing Bossman’s businesses in the past to having responsibility for Peach’s Pub, which Bossman owns and Peach manages. She wants to horn in on the action, be in charge, has a massive ego and frequent power trips. So throwing Peach under the boss is right in character. She’s being very ugly and hostile, what I heard while doing my liquor pull for the night shift was something I do not EVER want to hear discussed on the floor, during service, around staff. When Peach explained she didn’t know why the safe was short (unrelated to the payout system in the POS, the similarities of the amount was coincidental between payout and the amount the safe was short), September immediately said: “Well, Bossman, I and you have the code. We don’t know what’s going on, so…” It went downhill from there.

Peach is essentially being targeted in September’s power play, has her integrity challenged, therefore is crying as trying to explain restaurant stuff in the POS to a wanna-be CPA and a kind, gentle, wise but completely ignorant of restaurant proceedings Bossman. She is patronized and condescended by September, one server (I haven’t even given her a name because she’s not here anymore for being a complete dumbass) is running around telling incoming night shift that Peach steals money for drugs and is getting fired, Q is trying to do peacemaking but then someone else got involved somehow….right, September’s child and husband just pull up chairs to this meeting (which explodes, ahem, *occurs*) at the corner of the bar in the front cocktail section where anyone can hear/see what’s going on….Then Momma Bear reviews our tips (credit cards, claimed, reported cash) and inquires what me and Dean made last night (I don’t mind sharing that info is asked)….but because she’s checking us out as having thieved the money. Because she doesn’t get that Peach knows EXACTLY WHAT SHE IS DOING! And that they need to TRUST HER. September is toxic to this place.

THEN……THEN……Hot Stuff runs off some great tippers (who are incidentally lovely people to behold and serve) because she overheard someone left a crappy tip to a cocktail server. Breaking rule number 127 of F/B, you don’t talk to customers about their tips. It’s in the social contract. They do it….or they may not. Doesn’t get mentioned. But then the crap tipper was embarrassed because he had just covered a friend’s big tab he walked out on (very noble), so he feels attacked when he’s trying to do the right thing, regardless of his tip. And he was surrounded by the great tippers who all had bar tabs: so they come to the bar to complain about this “manager” running them off by going psycho on them, getting drunk and stupid on them. Hot Stuff denies everything, we lost money we can’t count on ever again, who came in to see me and Eiffel on Thursdays. And then Eiffel and Hot Stuff almost have it out because Eiffel calls H.S. out on her behavior and involves Peach to try and talk some sense into the people. Hot Stuff is now a ticking time bomb.

Peach is still crying. Q is trying to keep everyone happy. Momma Bear gets stupid drunk (first time she did this, warning of termination next time) and almost hits that point to being a disgrace. The dumbass server (again, no nickname, I hate her that much) got fired after contributing to the kerfluffle, and then we get a major pop in business. Before M.B. got drunk she criticized me trying to promote a frou-frou drink, essentially saying I have to do what I can to make money rather than waste it on crazy drinks.

Apparently her former nightclub went downhill very quickly and had to be rehabilitated halfway through its short life-span (3 years give or take) by some nightlife giants because (rumors) she did drugs and didn’t know what she was doing. Now she’s taking the time to tell Peach what to do, and while I respect her 95% and love her personally, that 5% might just be the bad advice we don’t need! And to be talked down to? No, I’ve learned and done enough in this business in 5 years to not be lost when it comes to money, big picture, PR/promotions, scheduling, labor, P/L’s, pour costs, overhead, etc.

Don’t underestimate me because I will WORK THAT MUCH HARDER!

On that note, the sun’s about to come up, so, I’m going to bed. And on a dark and enchanting note, I give you, Christina Perri-Jar of Hearts:






About Malachi the Drink Slinger

Finally transferring to that four year school in January, my goals made, my life set, the blinders dropped, my past signed and sealed, my future bright and airy, a writer, a thinker, a feeler, someone who is enthralled by beauty, an artist worth slightly more than two shits, a lover, a fighter, a person on the way to become the person I have always wanted to be....


  1. Wow! I thought we had drama…Luckily, we can’t have access to alcohol to we’d be a steaming hot mess, too.

  2. we can’t have access to alcohol OR…

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