flickr bartender - or TMI Tuesday...
My grandfather used to say that I should tend bar to work my way through college (this conversation started when I was around 10, I’m sure).
My first job had me serving long necks and frozen margaritas at the tender age of 15. Violation of child labor and alcohol serving laws be damned. It was here, if you’re curious.
After college, when I was finally old enough to legally serve, my first job behind the bar was serving manhattans and old fashioneds to the elderly winter birds on the Cape. A tough crowd, to say the least.
I tended bar at a strip mall joint in Florida for a bit. The owners were under investigation by the FBI for running a gambling ring. Their payroll practices were a little less than “stringent”, and I was frequently the only employee in the place. I kept a baseball bat behind the bar, just in case. Never had cause to use it, thankfully.
I worked at a couple of places in Oxford, where I went to college. I poured a WHOLE lot of beer and Jager shots. Had to call the cops one night when a fight broke out. The bouncers had the place cleared out before the cops showed up. The police station was 20 yards across the street from the bar. The other bar I worked at was where I hung out when I was in college. I loved working there. They tore it down a couple of months ago.
Grad school took me to Minnesota, and my final stint pouring booze. I was the “shot girl”. $2 got you a spin of the wheel and whatever shot it landed on. Think Price is Right for drunk college kids. The tips were phenomenal, but adulthood beckoned. So I got a job at a temp agency interviewing and testing clerical temps. I had to buy new clothes, and get up early in the morning.
For years, I would mix up some pretty cool concoctions at parties (duck’s ass, anyone?). But, like anything, you forget if you don’t do it. Now, I pour a mean glass of red. I look back on that time with nostalgia, though I drank too much, smoked too much, and didn’t get enough sleep. Ah, to be 23 again…