Remember when you were in class as a kid, and your teacher asked a question that you totally knew the answer to, so you leaned out of your chair and stuck your hand as high up in the air as you could, and wavedd it around yelling, “ooohh, ooohh, ooohh. Pick me”? But it never failed, she would ignore your eager attempt to answer that question and would call on little Jimmy, who would be sitting in the back, picking his nose, thinking about his mac and cheese he would be getting for hot lunch. “UNFAIR!” you moaned, as you would plop back into the hard seat, and sulk in defeat.
Ordering a drink in a club is much like trying to answer a question in a classroom.
Every night, I stand behind my bar and serve patron after patron. I pour whiskey cokes, shots of tequila, and more vodka Red Bulls than you can even begin to imagine. People bang their glasses on the counter. People holler. And people wave their hands at me. And it never fails, those people wait much longer. I will always take a quick glance through my line up of people, and immediately point at the person standing patiently. I will then go back to my well, make their drink, take their money, and then look for the next person not waving annoyingly at me. It will only be when no one else is left, that that waiver will get their drink.
I say lots of things in a night over and over again: “Vodka Red Bull?” “9 dollars!” “Yes, a vodka Red Bull is 9 dollar!” and “the more you wave, the less I want to serve you!”
Stop waving! Take a note from Jimmy. I bet he gets lots of drinks in clubs nowadays.
Originally posted June 29, 2010