As I stood there, grabbing puke-covered napkins off the sidewalk, four words came to mind:
I need a raise.
My next thought was: Australia had better be worth it!
I’m sure it will be. As many of you know, Leo and I are taking a big trip this fall. Australia isn’t cheap. So I’m serving up drinks at a cigar bar for cash tips — all of which go to the trip.
This is my first time working as a cocktail server, and opportunities for people observations abound. For example, the poor woman who tried smoking her first cigar and instead lost her lunch. At least she was sitting in the patio area. (And she tipped me $20 for cleaning that mess up. Gag.) Lesson: Cigars aren’t for everyone.
So far, I’ve noticed six basic “types” of patrons at the bar, where the dim, smoky atmosphere flattens the quirks of our personalities, ironing them into stereotypes. For a few hours, you are a two-dimensional version of yourself, at least from the server’s perspective.
1. The regular. He’s in there every single day of the week, always at the end of the bar. His liver is only slightly more clean than his jokes.
2. The semi-regular. He’s either the the older, dashing guy who smokes cigars and drinks expensive scotch or the small crew of two to four people who just want to hang out. Both are friendly and tip well and some versions even like to chat with the server. (My favorite.) Most of you probably fall into this group.
3. The pit-stop party. It might be bachelorettes or a birthday, but this breeze-through group stumbles off their bus or trips out of their Hummer limo for a 10-minute bathroom break while the semi-coherent organizer orders each person a shot. It’s usually either a Royal Flush or a Lemon Drop, unless they’re going silly (e.g. a blow job) or hardcore (three wise men).
4. Make-out mamma. Or papa. I don’t see what’s so appealing about making out at the bar, but apparently when you’re 55 and you’ve found someone special, it’s just part of the fun. I don’t relish watching you sucking on that guy’s ear like it’s your favorite lollipop. If you want to grind with your clothes on, go home.
5. The newbie. It’s really quite adorable to watch a 21-year-old come in an order a cigar. I’m not an expert; I applaud them for giving it a try. Except that girl who barfed on the patio.
6. The cheapskate. She’s there just to see the band and sip water. Or he buys one beer for $4.25. “Keep the change.” Please.Go.Away.
I’d love to say I’m working hard for the money, but this job does not require difficult physical labor or a high IQ. The worst part of the job is inhaling second-hand smoke, and I’d rather smell like cigars than burgers. With drinks, the options are “neat” and “on the rocks” not “rare” or “with fries.”
So stop in, say hi, and remember to always, always tip your server.
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