Bartending @ a Golf Club.

Well last night was another night of fun and aggravation.

   First of all I love bartending. Getting certified as a professional mixologist (Yes that is the actual title), was one of the best investments I ever made.  I pretty much know how to make any drink that you happen to know the ingredients for. Plus with the adaption of drinking apps to Apple and Droid Apps Markets, accessing multiple recipe's is easier then ever before.

    My personal favorite drink to make is the Cosmopolitan Martini. I have no idea what it tastes like but I love making them because of the multiple ingredients.  I have no problem with your regular two-liquor drinks or common cocktails like Screwdriver or Cape Cod but there is just something fun about adding multiple drinks together and mixing them together and then serving them up in a chilled fancy glass.

   How do I not know what these drinks taste like you ask?? Because I've never had a drink in my life. Now don't get crazy here people.  If you know how to make a drink properly and you know the ingredients and how much to put in, you don't even need to taste it to know if it's made right. That's the customers job.  And honestly, the only time I've had drinks sent back is because the server didn't get the order right or someone requested something I didn't know and they gave me the wrong ingredients.

 Now to last night;  As usual it was a last minute job so I showed up early to get a jump on the bar set-up.  Once again someone was in messing up the Banquet bar so I had to straighten things up and put a ton of stuff away that shouldn't have been out.  Then I had a blessing on the inventory, we were fully stocked on beer Thank G, so I only had to check on Liquor and extra mixers. We had enough of almost everything, except the Wine, and of course this event was a WOMEN's event so the main drink of choice was gonna be wine.  Now what did they forget to order a abundance of at the beginning of December??? WINE!!  So right off the bat I know this is going to be a hard night.

  The other bartender shows up and we get to getting the bar ready. I start cutting fruit, unlike other establishments where there is enough kitchen staff to cut fruit for the bartenders, I have to cut all the fruit that will last the night.  We grab as much wine as we can, knowing that before the night is out we are gonna run out of something, but have no idea which.  My lack of time at the club doesn't give me the knowledge of who the members are and what their particular drink of choice is. Luckily the other bartender is a regular at the club and tells me which members are going to drink what so we know what to supply. Strangely enough many of the women are going to be Lite Beer drinkers. Wonders never cease. 

  The members start filtering in and we have a good mix of women. We have your common Rich and Well-to-Do Ladies and your Down-Home earned a living Rich Women. Then there's your Work-a-holic women who are looking to get a little relaxed and do some shopping before the weekend.  This event was organized as a little fashion vendor sales that the members could invest in some pretty fancy stuff for Christmas presents and personal interests.  Usually there was a run-way and fashion models showing off their wears, but because of the economy they had to cut back on the extravagance of the event. 

  Dammit! First time I get to a ladies fashion show and they take away the Models!

  The drinks start going out like a ticket taker booth for a major Sports event. I've got glasses chilling on my spill-mat and I'm pouring soda's, wine, liquor and mixers as fast as my hands will go. This is my element. When there is a rush and I have to think and move fast, servers are barking orders and I have seconds to whip together drinks, I'm in the zone. I can't flip bottles like Tom Cruise in "Cocktail" But I can make'em faster and cleaner then he did. 4 hrs go by and there is a significant dent in our beer supply and already we are out of Pino Grigio. I've made 2 Appletini's, 3 Cosmos, dozen's of quick liquor drinks  and someone just asked for a Grey Goose and Ice Tea w/SweetN/Low?, thats a new one for my book.

   So far nothing really to get upset about, but then this very well dressed lady comes up and asks "Do you have any Special Chardonnay wines by the glass?"   Right away I can see that she's gonna be a "PICKY-ONE", as in not a single thing I get her is going to be easy.  So I say "yes Ma'am." and hand her our Wine Menu. Of course she picks the one that isn't in the bar, so I have to go out on the floor and find a manager , to get the key, to the wine fridge's downstairs. I can't find them and no-one knows where they are. So hoping on luck that the fridge is open I run down and check. I'm in luck and the door is unlocked. I grab the wine and run back up, taking the tin off the top so I can uncork the bottle upstairs. I arrive with the bottle(winded) as the other bartender stops me and says "She changed her mind!"  BUTTON PRESSED.

  I can't stop myself from saying "Are you Shitting me!?" The bartender shushes me and says "She's right THERE!", gesturing behind me. I feel my face drain, swallow hard and I take the bottle back down, cursing myself for losing it in the first place.  I'm on the way back up when I see the other bartender rounding the corner.  "What are you doing?!" I hear. "I just put the bottle back, what are you doing down here?!" We waste about a minute arguing about leaving the bar unattended and I rush back up before a manager notices.  THANK G, there's no line at the bar, no servers waiting and the managers haven't noticed us gone. I clear the surfaces and get ready for the next servers order.

   The evening progresses on with almost no stopping. 6 hrs gone by and I think we are approaching the end and that once the sales and entertainment ends I can get home.  Only then do I realize that these ladies aren't stopping. The host of the event gives her final farewell and inclines that, "its been a great evening enjoy yourselves and have a great weekend." One of the managers steps up to the bar and asks 'how we're doing?'. I say fine and ask when the event is scheduled to end.  I feel the hair's on my neck stand on end as  the manager shrugs and says,'When they decide to leave."

   For those of you not members at a Golf Club, there is no bar closed policy. We stay open until the members leave the room.  When I was a regularly scheduled Bartender at the club, I've stayed to 5AM serving drinks to a party of members, calling limo's to get them home. Honestly I know better then to serve drunken people when they are way past their limit, but the managers want the members happy and spending money. So I'm told to kept serving even when I know it's wrong.  All I can do is water down the drinks and offer more food/snacks, praying I don't have to wrestle away their keys when they think they can drive.

  Normally I'm cool with working a little later then normal to get the extra pay, but my back is hurting and my legs are starting to cramp. Should have stretched out before I went in. I was so glad to get the shift I forgot to prepare myself.  2 hrs go by and we are now running out of  Miller Lt and Coors Lt. We have lots of Merlot but short on Cabernet. The Pino has been out for 2 hrs and we still have requests for it and the 'salt in the wound' is that the servers have stopped checking the tables so now the members are coming up to the bar to place their orders. Not a problem before, but now I have to keep track of their drinks and let the servers know when they finally come back in the room. I try to keep track of all the members but I know I'm going to miss someone. The other bartender asks to leave because there isn't as many members left and she wants to get home early. I say fine, wishing I didn't need to money so bad.

  Finally the night is closing down and I have a stack of tickets to ring up and only a few servers who can identify if they had the members I had.  When the last member has left the room, I start cleaning the bar, wiping down all the bar bottles, collecting the extra fruit and garnishes, clearing the floor and making sure all the glasses are stacked neatly and orderly to prevent falling over and shattering. My back is sore as hell and my left leg is screaming from a pulled muscle in my ankle and hamstring. I finish cleaing up the bar and then transport the extra fruit over the lounge bar, where I ring up my tickets and put away the fruit for the bartender tomorrow. 

  I look down at my cell phone and see that I worked a 8.5 hr day. It's been over a year since I did that at the club. That will be a nice paycheck come next week. I'm sore, tired and know I have to be up at 6AM the next day for work downtown.   

 Oh well, at least I'm not the poor schmuck serving the women down in the 19th hole. :)