This is the sound of the bus wheels rolling over you….

This is a long one, so get ready.

I am over Dean. I’m throwing him under the bus. First, remember I was taken off the bar because I needed to grow and mature on the weekends and they were in need of a strong cocktailer? They kept Dean and chunked me onto the floor, and put a server named Class-act in my place. Eh. I was very nice and polite. With Mess gone, Class-act is going to work Mess’ schedule and they brought on a fourth Friday/Saturday night bartender, Jazzy.

Dean threw multiple tantrums tonight. His fuckups increase, from putting the wrong stuff on the wrong tabs over and over again, mismaking mojitos and mimosas (we don’t break open champagne unless it’s brunch, EVER and we don’t have mint), throwing together concoctions. He stomped and glared and whined and moaned, a grown ass man. He pocketed cash when he claimed to have split it all with Eiffel and she knew it wasn’t true, finally caught in a lie. His reaction? Slam the drawer into the register and stomp away, change flying everywhere within view of about ten bar guests. It came out from Eiffel on the way home tonight that he’s stolen, that he can’t be trusted with tips from shot trays because he would pocket the tips and say he didn’t make a dime. He gets caught in these lies, gets furious when he’s caught and blames others. I listened to him complain about the way the other bartenders talked to him, citing specific situations when I KNOW he’s lying about what really went down to make himself look persecuted. He is mopey, and spends precious time bitching to customers about the “bitches” and “cunts” he works with. He’ll get hung up on one group of girls at the bartop and ignore everyone else. He’s not aware of his surroundings and can’t multitask and fucks up so much it drives me and EVERYONE else up the wall and has been essentially caught lying and stealing redhanded and WHY THE HELL WAS I TAKEN OFF THE BAR AND NOT HIM!!!!???


Dawn, the best fucking bartender and one of the nicest people I know who’s in great with everyone, was discussing the setup of the bar, what put us in the weeds, what our strengths and weaknesses were. Her solution, her on service bar at one end, and a person on each side, and a fourth “floater”. She pointed at me: “you’re the floater here”. Not Dean, ME. Yes, I am, in bar logistics, I just walk in circles…all night long. I’ll go nuts if I’m trapped on service bar but if you give me a section I’ll want to move to other sides if my section slows and then next thing you know…so don’t trap me, play to my strengths. Dawn told me how it’d be great if in theory I’d float, she’d do service well, and Jazzy and Eiffel took sides. We’d balance each other out and cover our group weaknesses, strong and steady and solid with hyper and high-energy.

Eiffel and the others want me back, as we have solidified our crew and identities, assessed our strengths and weaknesses, a place is forming for me within the weekend team, versus just being an inexperienced possible liability in the wake of so many experienced people. But apparently theft, deceit and all of this other shit hasn’t gotten Dean anything but a harsh reprimand from Bob, our GM. I don’t get it.  I really don’t get it. These are my people, I get along great with them. I’m always smiling and high-energy. I pay attention to the Canadian bar guests (as others refer to them) and I typically get good money for my troubles, rather than passing them over for white people with money. I’ve gotten very strong in my multitasking. I accept constructive criticism and freely admit my few errors: I nail my free pours, average a spill a night, MAYBE (that’s just blind idiocy). I’ve been pushed and stretched to my limits and beyond on the floor and have grown because of it. I know the computer system inside and out and always double check my money. My job is to put on a show for customers, let them see whatever reality they want, from a bitch or a hardass, to a flirt or a friend, an advisor or therapist, whatever. I don’t let them see the real me. Because the real me hates them all. But you’d never know. I never talk smack about anyone else to a customer, even if I’m furious with them at the moment, I always find something very lovely to say with a smile. It’s not their business.

Eiffel has suggested that they need a strong server to replace me so they can fire Dean and keep at least one male working on the weekends. So….everyone just keep your hand on your wallet and an eye on Dean until another me walks in? Good luck with all of that.



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. Hey Malachi! Sorry for not dropping by lately, the busy season at work is slowly coming to an end and I finally have time to read my favorite blogs before I go to bed now. This post of yours is timeless for anyone who has worked in a bar. I worked at a cafe/bar in Athens Greece as a server, one of my first jobs and I met a bartender like the one you described. The bartender who pockets money, steals and acts surprised when someone calls them out, I have met. It is funny because where I was working, the owner/boss couldnt possibly grasp this to be true. I was working so I could pay for rent and survive, I was 18 and not very experienced, but I trusted my boss. One day my boss pulls me aside and tells me with the bartender thief, that my best friend is stealing money. Well that was bull crap, because I actually caught the bartender stealing one night and blew my cap. This was the last straw for me, so I did what any kid who saw injustice would do, I made the biggest scene. I first off at the top of my lungs said that it was pathetic for a grown man to be stealing food from a young girls mouth, and I made sure every single person in the place saw this go down. I then pointed out that he drinks a bottle of the most expensive sambuka each night, and lets his friends come in a drink for free, and then has the audacity to steal my tips so he can cover this expense. After that, I just walked out. I remember hearing claps from the customers, or maybe that was just in my head, but I know that he will never forget me. Thanks for sharing this post and bringing up a proud memory of mine. Looking forward to what will happen next at you work.

  2. Hey Malachi…I’m enjoying reading your stuff when i can. I added you to my blogroll. would you mind doing the same for me? Keep writing! Flippingtables

  3. I can’t understand why management keeps worthless turds, but it seems to be the case everywhere. Good luck finding another you!

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