The Bar Rag Chronicles

The First Time I Got Paid For It

2005-08-16T23:14:00.000-07:00

I broke my cherry, and it was actually kind of fun; underpaying, but fun. The guest bartending gig went well, for the most part, and I had a good time. It was pretty much what I expected it would be; the people were cool, for the most part and the money was little.

I arrived at the midtown bar right on time, despite the fact that I had to walk about ten blocks in the hot August sun wearing an entirely black outfit. Sweating like a roasting pig, I met the manager, looked over the price list and was behind the bar before knew it. The first couple of drink orders were a complete mystery to me and I had to enlist the help of one of the house bartenders. I didn’t know the drinks because I had never heard of the liquors before, but I expect that’s some thing that comes with never having bartended before.

After all that things began to run much smoother. The bar was running a two for one happy hour special and, to my surprise, I actually handled it well. On “regular” tried some shit after paying me with a drink ticket, saying that I took her ticket from her off the bar without giving her the drink. This was, to put it gently, complete and utter bullshit. I did in fact pour her two glasses of wine over the course of two hours, and she paid me for one and gave me – handed me – a ticket for the second. I don’t know if she was drunk or just trying to pull some shit, but the staff at the place got my back and just gave her a ticket to shut her up.

I suppose this sort of thing happens all the time in bars; some drunkard claiming that they paid with a twenty when they paid with a ten or something. I don’t know, I guess it’s a part of the job. This is probably the only thing that I don’t miss about retail that I’ll be encountering on the front lines.

Anyway, after a while my friends started showing up and buying drinks ensued. They purchased many a fine beverage from me and grossly over-tipped. I wish they hadn’t since we were splitting tips, but I really appreciated the thoughts behind it all. I started sweet talking other patrons and was also pulling in larger tips from them as well. Looking back I realize that I was quite possibly the best earner in the place (not to brag or anything).

One guy started a tab and ordered two drinks. He came back later and tried to close it, and the manager informed him that his two drinks didn’t cover the twenty five dollar minimum for tabs. It was priceless. The guy began buying drinks for everyone around him. People he didn’t even know were bought drinks. He even bought drinks for all the females in the group that came out for me. It was funny to watch him turn to strangers and ask what they were drinking and then turn to us and say “Get her another Cosmo, and get him another Miller Light, and get her…”

I was complimented on my Cosmopolitan making abilities, by the way.

I stretched the three hour shift into a four hour shift since I started early and finished right on time. I was told that I would be drinking for free the rest of the night and even did a free shot of Maker’s Mark with the owner. After hanging with some of my friends who came out for the gig and smoking several cigarettes (out side, of course) I was given my share of the tips – fifty bucks. A little light, in my opinion, but needed and appreciated none-the-less.

The night was filled out with hitting another bar, which I did under protest since I was drinking for free, and topped off with a visit to my chain of burrito shops San Loco.

All in all, it was a good experience. The people at the place were great and I had some fun. I look forward to working there again if I can. It helped having my first time behind a bar coming off so well. My estimations were correct; I liked it a lot.

On Counting Your Chickens…

2005-08-04T13:42:00.000-07:00

OK, so it looks like the PGA thing is going to suck, big-time. I left for the orientation armed with what I thought were good directions. After two hours, driving the same two highways over and over again (and getting lost in Newark) I arrived at the orientation… forty five minutes late. I got very lost, to say the least. The funny thing is that I began to panic; thinking that I had blown my spot and that I’d be turned away at the door or something. The thought of having messed up my chance at all that money was nerve rattling.

The woman giving the orientation was already in full swing when I arrived and I was sure that I missed everything of any relevance. I snuck into the back and begin to take notes on all the requirements we have to meet for this gig. It turns out that I didn’t miss much at all - in fact, it would have probably been better that I had missed it altogether.

This is a chump gig. Ten dollars an hour and we’re not supposed to accept tips. Now, I know as a writer I should be able to articulate a colorful, yet succinct phrase that will clearly express my feelings in an almost poetic fashion. I have, of course, a phrase that indeed fits all the afore-mentioned criteria:

What the fuck is that shit?

They want Tavern On The Green at McDonald’s prices. It was high comedy to see the woman doing the orientation say that they contacted bars and bartending schools in the area to research the wage for bartenders and that ten dollars an hour, without tips, was “very good.” It’s my understanding that they needed one hundred bartenders and have fallen very short – I wonder why.

Well, I’ve resolved to accept all tips offered. I’m a professional – albeit a new and unemployed professional – but a professional none-the-less and I expect to be paid as such. I will be working my ass off and I don’t think I’m out of line to want the proper, customary payment. Truth-be-told, I think that they expect us to take tips since they did say that if the customer “insists” then we are allowed to accept their tips, but that we should do so quietly.

This does go against my normal philosophy towards following my employer’s guidelines and requests, but I do have to look out for the dynamic uno. The reality is that we have a situation were the involved parties are desperate; they need bartenders and I need money – they can’t pay more, I can’t take less. It looks like they see this as well so they sort of said, without saying, that they’ll look the other way… well, that’s how I’ll interpret it, anyway.

When I got home I had an interesting conversation with the little lady. She suggested my finding a day job. Bartending is my mission right now and it I did go for a day job, I wouldn’t be able to interview for bartender positions during the day. I can’t blame her, I mean; I am unemployed and pretty much out of cash. While I see her point, I can’t help but think about how things like this always happen. It’s the same old story; it’s as old as mankind itself. When you try to do something that doesn’t fit everyone else’s plan, they try to dissuade you from it. Columbus didn’t discover America by listening to the conventional wisdom of the time. I know it’s not nearly the same scale, but this is something I want to do and have wanted to do for a long time. I wouldn’t call it a dream or anything, but I’ve always thought was a good idea and I need to see if it is for myself.

I just can’t ignore the fact that every former bartender I know speaks of bartending fondly and with a longing in their tone as if to say “I wish I was still at it.” Actually, some of they really do say that they wish they were still at it. Ya can’t argue with that, can you?

I Never Thought I’d Use This Stuff After Graduation

2005-08-03T04:47:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, it occurred to me that my PGA gig might require upgrading my she-she drink knowledge considerably. When I was learning the craft of bartending I figured that I’d get my regular bartending chops down in a typical New York bar first and build my knowledge of the finer points later; after all, my goal is to be a complete bartender at the end of this. Now with this coming up, I fear an endless line of wealthy golf fans, dismayed by my lack of knowledge of such things as Kirs, Champagne Cocktails, and Old Fashions – drinks that I never paid much mind to, because I thought they wouldn’t come up this soon.

I know that I’ve gone off on bartenders not knowing drinks already. I know this puts me in that category – at least I have an excuse. I can’t learn it all at once; I want to get as much as I can down as second nature and build off of that as I work.

I’ve started a notebook that I plan to cram with various bits and pieces of bartending knowledge as I go. I know that there’s a lot to learn, and I plan to pick up as much as I can. I always look for the intricacies in any job I take. I find it makes things easier if you get them down right away. I don’t want to struggle with basics when I could be earning.

Speaking of earning, I learned that my guest bartending gig will be a short one. Six to nine PM. I feel a bit embarrassed having invited several friends out to the gig. I figure that everybody will miss me by at least an hour or two. The website for the place says that happy hour is from four to seven; at least I’ll be able to get a piece of that action. I really don’t expect to make much off this one, but if I can catch a few bucks I guess I can’t complain.
Today I’ll be getting orientation for the PGA gig. I suppose I’ll get the info on the type of environment I’ll be working in. Hopefully it’ll be more informative and less bureaucratic. I’d rather pick up what I need to do a good job than spend a few hours filling out paperwork. My job’s behind the bar, not in the office.

The Little Things

2005-07-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

Well, I booked the PGA gig. Tough interview:

Hi, I’m calling about the bartender position for the PGA
Tour

OK, show up here at this time.

Great,
thanks.

*Click*

I’m actually feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I mean, it’s a pretty important sounding gig and it looks like it’ll be a pretty good little payout, so I’m happy. Perhaps I can parlay it into a regular gig at a she-she restaurant or something.

I don’t want to get my hopes up or anything. It’s been my experience that planning out things like this, things that basically come down to luck, never really works out. Playing it by ear is probably my best bet thus far.

I spoke with my mother shortly after booking the gig. I think it’s safe to say that she’s not too thrilled with the current course her son’s career has taken. She was trying to suggest that I take some bullshit desk job making a damned slight more than what I was making at my last job; which, if she’d bother to recall, wasn’t nearly enough to make ends meet.

It’s a bit of a downer, really. Here I am, getting what promises to be a sweet gig and instead of “Alright, way to go,” I get, “Is that really what you want to do? I don’t know about this whole bartending thing.” Yeah Ma, thanks.

My girlfriend, on the other hand had a different take. She’s a bit of a go-getter – a characteristic I really do love about her. While I didn’t manage to get an “Alright, way to go” from her I did get an “OK, so book more guest bartending shifts now.” I was a little disenfranchised by this. Sometimes I get this vibe like I think she thinks I’m a slacker. I talked to her about it after she said that and I know that this isn’t the case, but it’s hard to not feel that way. She’s just really hardcore about things and sometimes forgets the niceties that sometimes accompany conversation. At least I can talk to her about it, not like my parents. They get something in their heads and no manner of logic or reasoning can change it.

Oh well, what can you do?

I was thinking of going to the bartending school to practice again today. Lord knows I need it. I’m just nervous about my first shift. Like with every other job I’ve ever started, I know that by the end of the first shift it’ll feel like I’ve been doing it for years. Still, I can’t help but get that little twinge of doubt. I know that most bartenders in New York don’t know much about cocktails. I mean, I’m a cocktail drinker, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time shouting the recipe of my drink over the awful club music blaring overhead, at bartenders who seem to hold no shame over not knowing. I’ve even felt a bit of contempt from a few who seemed to blame me for ordering something that they can’t be expected to know or something. I don’t order anything that I can’t see Sinatra ordering, so I just don’t get that vibe.

I know that, as a bartender, I really don’t want to not know. Call it pride or something, but I just think that it’s only right that you should at least try. There’s something James Bond about knowing the proper way to make a drink. It probably sounds corny, but I really do want to be a good bartender. I don’t know if that makes me more deserving or something, but I can’t help but feel that it’s sort of unfair that there are people who really don’t care all that much working right now and I’m left here, wanting. I may start and find my way into a real rainmaker gig, if there is any justice, but I won’t hold my breath.

The Start of My New Career

2005-07-29T02:06:00.000-07:00

After two weeks of searching and interviewing with little to show for it, I’ve decided to start guest bartending. I’m pretty much out of cash and am borrowing more money than I’m comfortable with. I hate borrowing money from people, but I’m desperate, so I don’t have much of a choice.

A friend hooked me up with someone she knows, and I e-mailed him this morning. After a brief exchange of messages I was booked for next Friday. This was a much welcomed turn of events since my grocery budget has been reduced to ramen noodles bought with a nearly maxed-out credit card. It also feels good to know that I’ll finally be getting behind a bar which is something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.

It’s been almost a month since I graduated bartending school and I feel like I got my driver’s license but have no access to a car. Nothing makes me feel antsier than learning something that I can’t apply; especially when it’s something that I really want to do. I felt the same thing when I went to college. Not using what I learned drove me nuts for a very long time. I still fantasize that I may, someday, get a chance to use my degree, but I can’t get caught up with that right now – I have work to do.

Since I haven’t been using my bartending skills in the last four weeks, I decided to go back to the school and take them up on their policy of letting former students use the facilities. I arrived at the school and met up with my teacher outside. After a short cigarette break he informed me of a week long stint bartending for the PGA Tour. Rich and famous people with loads of cash – where do I sign?

I got the number and called. The office was closed, so I’ll have to call tomorrow.

I hope I get it because that could set me up for a little while and it would make my resume look much more promising to potential employers. As it stands, it looks like I may have to resort to the old beginning bartender trick of lying on my resume. I’d hate to do that since I’ve never lied to a potential employer before (which probably explains my lack of gainful employment); but it looks like most working bartenders did just that to get their start. I’ll thank my mom and the Catholic Church for my nagging conscience later, I suppose.

I practiced for a little while and went to the mall to buy some nifty bartending attire. New York City bartenders usually wear black. While I have black clothing, I don’t have many things that are entirely black. What kind of leftover from the metal/grunge scene am I? Anything I have wouldn’t cut in behind the rail in most NYC nightspots, I know that much.

Two black shirts and three pairs of black pants were purchased on the aforementioned, nearly-maxed-out credit card and I was off. If this bartending gig doesn’t work out, at least I can join up with Project Mayhem (any mildly hip film fans got that, I hope).

The Bar Rag Chronicles - An Introduction

2005-07-29T01:29:00.000-07:00

This is my account of the trials and tribulations that face a person trying to break into the New York City bartending circuit. The plan thus far is to chronicle the seemingly impossible task of actually getting a job, a steady job, as a bartender in New York City and then the first year behind the bar.

Should the job turn out to be boring, this project will end much sooner; if it’s interesting, then it may go on past a year. It’s not that I have some huge master plan here. I don’t. I just want to document my journey.

Bartending, from my understanding, is a fairy interesting profession. I’ve heard many an interesting story from those that have stood behind the rail. If half of what I’ve heard is true, then this should make for an interesting little blog at best.

About me:

I’m a male, in my late twenties. I was born and raised in New Jersey, mere minutes away from New York City. I’ve been going to Manhattan my entire life, so I’m a bit more familiar with NYC than a fresh transplant, but not as savvy as a long-time resident. I’m a blogger, and in the interest of keeping things as anonymous as possible, I’ll be keeping my real blog separate from this one. Not that I have any secrets or that I don’t want it promoted or anything, it’s just that I want to be as honest as possible and I wouldn’t want to offend anyone. That said, I will also be changing names (if I do in fact know the names of those mentioned) of anyone I interact with as well as any detail that might give up too much. I apologize in advance for this, but my goal isn’t to hurt anyone (in any way) or to blow my own career.

The choice to become a bartender was one of need. After a series of dead end jobs, I need a change; I need a career that I actually enjoy; mostly, I need money.

I graduated college, thinking that I was on track to begin my life in the real world. That piece of paper really turned out to be a ridiculously expensive waste. I know people who either didn’t go to school, or dropped out and their doing fine. Me; well that’s a different story. Every job I’ve had since college has been a joke. Not that the jobs themselves were a joke, but the fact that I couldn’t land anything better with my degree was. I got out of college about the time that the market crashed and the job market went with it. I entered the work force with individuals that were grossly over-employed in the late nineties. That may sound like an excuse, but college student with retail experience versus former vice president of operations for So-and-so.com isn’t really much of a contest. I wouldn’t have hired me either I suppose.

I quit my last job because, while it started out to be a really interesting job, it turned into a corporate nightmare. I was underpaid, and in the end, under appreciated as well. I decided to leave after I learned what my raise was going to be, but I figured I’d hang around until our busy season was over. I didn’t have anything against my boss or the company, after all.

I told the boss of my intention to leave when things calmed down and things went on as they often do. It wasn’t until I began to butt heads with my boss over a variety of things pertaining to the job that there were some problems. I had been in this position for a number of years and was, at this time, the senior person in the post. My opinions, schedules and assessments of the workload were, for the first time, in question. I felt ignored. I had never had my work ethic questioned like this before (unjustly question, I might add).

Truth be told, I was never really supervised that closely either. It’s for this reason that I don’t blame my boss for anything. The job was sort of specialized and had many subtleties to it; things often didn’t go as planned. I always approached it with an inclination to err on the side of caution and my boss always agreed. This year, however, my boss’s bosses wanted to be more hands on and added more pressure to the mix. My boss, not understanding the parameters of my job, blamed me for things that normally occurred and questioned all of my input. After several months of conflicted understanding and disagreements, I was told that I could leave a bit earlier than my scheduled date of departure (about a day after it seemed that the busy season was over). I guess my boss was kind of sick of my shit and figured I was sick of hers; whatever, it worked for me.

I have to say that I really bear no ill will toward her despite the friction. Sometimes these things just happen. I do wish we parted on better terms, but the past is indeed the past, so I’ll just let things be.

As of right now, I graduated bartending school about a month ago. Due to personal reasons (of no real relevance to this journal) I’ve only begun my job search two weeks ago. It’s been slow going to say the least. I’ve been on a few interviews, but nothing real has come up… until today, that is.