The Truth of Bartending, or, Why my job is 100x harder than you imagine

For my first true blog post, I'd like to discuss something near and dear to me as a bartender:
The Truth of Bartending

Let us begin by covering a few things, namely, my responsibilities as a bartender. Someone once told me that the best way to think about serving alcohol is to accept that you are, in fact, a drug dealer. Alcohol is a mind altering, addictive and potentially harmful substance that must be served in measured and monitored quantities, preferably by someone who is trained to do so. At my bar, we all have TIPS training, and I STRONGLY recommend it to any establishment looking to increase profits and professional demeanor at the bar.

My job is to mix and serve your drinks while maintaining a running calculation in my head of your rough BAL, all the while serving other customers and remembering their information & number of drinks and monitoring every person at the bar and in the restaurant for signs of intoxication.

'But if you have only served them one drink, you don't have to worry about watching them, right?' WRONG. I don't know what you did before you walked into my establishment. I don't know if you just downed half a bottle of vodka in your car and it hasn't hit you yet, I don't know if you've been sucking down Crown & Coke in your room all night, but decided to come down to the bar and have a Crown & 7 (you know, for a change of pace) and can hold your booze well. I don't know.

I am responsible for you. While you are drinking at my bar, I might as well be your babysitter, and I take that responsibility VERY seriously. I am going to do my best to keep you from doing or saying something stupid, leaving here to go drink elsewhere when you are cut off, hitting on the seriously demented looking person next to you and making regrettable food or drink choices. This is called customer service.
I am also responsible for you in other ways, namely a little something called Dram Shop Liability, a policy my state happens to operate under. It says that if I allow you to become completely smashed at my bar and then you go walk into traffic, I am responsible because I over served you. (Little known fact: it is actually illegal to get completely drunk at a bar.) Yes, even if you are staying at my hotel or the one next door, even if you have a ride home or money for a taxi, even if you hold your liquor really well, even if you promise, promise, promise with cherries on top that you aren't going anywhere but to bed, I can not serve you once you start to appear intoxicated.
What if I over serve you and you go upstairs to your hotel room, decide that you smell or just want to relax in the shower, and slip and hit your head? What if you look up into the water stream too long and drown? What if, what if, what if? I am liable for that. You could sue me, the hotel and my manager for not properly training me. I have children, a husband, a family and not a whole lot of money, so for my safety and yours that is not a risk I'm going to take.

I have to listen to all kinds of utter crap spewing from the mouths of my customers. No, really. You wouldn't believe some of the conspiracy theories, ridiculous financial advice and long winded personal stories I have stood and smiled through. I don't really give a crap if President Clinton is accepting bribes in the form of cattle and gold from the Red Chinese. I really don't. And your second cousin's daughter's lifestyle choices? Not even remotely interesting, especially since they involved becoming the town's first lesbian librarian. Who cares? Not me. But I will still stand there, pressed for information and opinions and bullied into responding. I hate customers who make sexual references because I am a curvy woman, or who make guesses at my home life based on their relatively short time at my bar, when I am being paid to smile and cater to your every whim.
I especially hate customers who like to feel important and knowledgeable by grilling you about inane topics that they guess you know little, if anything, about. I did manage to switch this one up on a customer who was going on and on about poetry (I guess I don't appear well-read?) as follows:

Him: "I especially like the chromatic stylings of a certain English poet - perhaps you've heard of him - E. A. Poe? I had the distinct honor of visiting his grave just outside of Cambridge. Truly amazing, I tell you. You know he was famous for his poem "Nevermore," which introduced iambic pentameter."
Me: "Actually, sir, Edgar Allen Poe was an American poet, and is buried in Baltimore. And I think you mean 'The Raven.' And iambic pentameter is the measure used for Shakespeare's sonnets. 'The Raven' is written in trochaic octameter, which he borrowed from Elizabeth Barrett. But I truly enjoy that poem as well."
Him: "....."

He paid rather quickly and left. Now, I'm not this good at everything, but he happened to be droning on about a topic that I'm quite knowledgeable about - I love Poe, and can recite The Raven and Annabell Lee by heart. But I'm just saying, as a bartender, you have to know these things.

I must know everything. I have to know the best places to go for sushi, steak, ribs and pasta, the best tourist (and non-touristy) attractions, how far it is from my bar to every landmark in the city, open and close times for major attractions, any special events (festivals and shows), the weather for tomorrow and some good jokes. I have to know room prices for the night at my hotel and the two next door, all of the restaurant specials and 86's for The Grill and what kind of mood the Chef is in (she's pretty pissed, now is not a good time to order a well-done filet mignon with fries instead of the starch and veg du jour) and what time the big games are on. I should know the top three baseball and football (college and pro) and where all of the teams are from, so that I can match travelers to their teams.

I have to cut people off, and they never take it well. Cutting people off is one of the worst parts of being a bartender. For the one guy who understands that it isn't anything personal, just house and state policy and pays his tab and hangs out with you a bit longer, you will have five who pitch fits and complain and act like children about it. Here's a tip: the more fuss you make, the more convinced I am that I was right to cut you off. I have more to say on this, but that will be my next post.

I frequently get no tip. I don't know why, but a lot of people feel that they shouldn't have to tip the bartender for a table of beers. I know that popping the cap on your beer and delivering it to your table doesn't seem like a big deal, but here's what you miss:
1. Restocking the chill chest every day involves carrying tons of beer and liquor to the chest, rearranging things so that we follow FIFO (first in, first out) and taking stock in back.
2. Cleaning out the nasty cap catch on my bottle opener.
3. Memorizing the entire beer list; name, brewing company, type and nationality
4. Scrubbing out the chill chest every week. Cold, difficult and thankless.
Tip your bartender on the beer, guys - just because you don't see it doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

That is all I can think of for now. Bartending is both easier and far more difficult than it appears - chatting with customers, mixing classic drinks and watching customers enjoy themselves and each other is a breeze. The behind-the-scenes training, memorization and side work is immense and hard, and it requires a certain kind of person to make it meaningful.

Tip your bartender, ladies and gentlemen. They deserve it :)