Bartender’s Thinking

 

It’s night after night of sliding down drinks, seeing people have a good time, and watching a nice fist fight happen right in front of me. The night starts off slow with a few handful of people catching the end of the “After Work Happy Hour” to help ease the burden that follows with having a horrendously boring desk job. An hour or two later, the nightly “Happy Hour Drinks” kicks in and all the party people arrive.

So many people put on their sharpest and most beautiful attire, some of them even accessorizing with with jewelry. The loudest group of people who drinks the heaviest are the ones who synchronize their outfits to match with everybody. Of course as the night gets later and later, their clothes suddenly seem out of sync, considering one of them probably had a colorful drink thrown at them, somebody vomited and it splashed onto somebody else, or somebody got into a situation of “catch these hands” and is suddenly missing half of their shirt.

In the event that if a fight occurs, which is does on an almost nightly basis, the bouncers will come in and break it up. After that, the whole conundrum of “who started the fight?” goes into play. Person A will always blame Person B, but they never realize the real person behind it.

A young man in a nice white button-up jacket with a black undershirt approaches the counter, “Jack on the Rocks, please.”

“Right away,” I respond.

I get a quick glimpse in his eye before I turn to the mixing station behind me; I could see the glossy coat on his eyes from the drinks he ordered earlier. He’s definitely getting a bit more drunk. However, I do want to see if he’ll be able to hold it together under certain circumstances, mostly getting his ass handed to him.

I eagerly make his ice cold whiskey drink and hand it too him, “Don’t go overboard with the drinks. I don’t want to see you passed out around here.”

He downs his drink entirely in one gulp. He obviously has some kind of reason for wanting to get hammered so quickly. I’ll be patiently waiting behind the counter to see who he punches first. God, being a bartender can be exciting.

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