Tag Archives: bartender

Dear Douchey Phone Guy,

I know, I know…you think you’re super cool with your navy blue blazer over an ironic tee shirt, and designer jeans. I know you think you look so good with your fake tan, and you probably think you’re fooling everyone with its authenticity…you’re not. And I’m sure Ice Man has been your hero since you first watched Top Gun 10 years after it first came out, but perhaps idolizing Hollywood’s token Doucher is not as great of an idea as you thought (do note, Val Kilmer’s career took a pretty pathetic plunge after this part). Maybe this act gets you a girl here and there (nothing lasting long as no girl wants to be with a guy that tells himself how beautiful he is rather than she), but I’m sure you’ve gotten more punches and tossed drinks to the face than lays. If you ever come up to me again, while talking on the phone, and demand a drink, and then refuse to pay till you finish your conversation, I will make sure the bluest drink I can make will accidently find you and smear your orange tan for everyone to see. If you want to be a Douchey tard, move to L.A.


Your Pleasant Bartender

Originally posted June 12, 2010

The More You Wave, The Less I Want To Serve You…

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