The glamorous life.

Back when I was single I noticed that when a guy found out that I was a bartender his attraction to me increased by about 30%. I usually left the bar with at least 2 numbers from random dudes sticking them in the tip jar or writing their number on the credit card receipt. This has always puzzled me and the only conclusion I can come to is that he thought he would get free drinks. Or the guys at the bar must have failed miserably with all the other chicks who aren't wearing a tuxedo shirt and black dockers and thought "well, she was sure nice to me all night. Maybe she likes me."

All the little servers wanna be bartenders, too. Thats all I hear from the kids at the restaurant. "How did you become a bartender? Did you have to go to school for it? Will you teach me?" Look kids, its really not all its cracked up to be. When a server takes a drink order at the table, let's say for a Margarita, a Sex on the Beach, a Pina Colada and a Guiness Draught, all they do is walk to the computer, type in the order and go run food...flirt with the cooks...clean some tables...text messege their boyfriends...smoke in the bathroom, whatever. But that order then goes to the bartenders to make. Those are four COMPLETELY different drinks that are ALL step intensive. You are lookin' at a good two minutes of turn around.

Now say you are the bartender and you take that same drink order from a group that just sat at the bar. They are sitting right in front of you so they are watching you make it and telling you that their mom's second cousin is a bartender and he makes margarita's with a splash of orange juice and they really wished I woulda made it like that, meanwhile showing you pictures of their brother-in-laws dog who just had surgery on his anus. At that same time that you are smiling and acting like you care, you also have to make the servers drinks that rang in some ridiculous shot that no one has ever heard of but some douchebag at their table heard once at a bar in jersey and is trying to impress his date. Then a wide eyed food runner comes walking out of the kitchen and just stands in front of you with arms loaded down with food mouthing the words "where's seat 10" with a mixed look of fear and too much eyeliner. While all this is going on some butt-munch walks in and wants a $2.50 beer and hands you a $100 and you know you don't have the change but the manager is at the host stand attempting to be witty with the 16 year olds he's hired to boost his ego. About this time a server brings you a chocolate martini that you made half an hour ago and says the customer wanted an apple martini instead however they didn't realize what they had until they drank half of it. Then your regular at the end of bar yells for another round of whiskey and pabst blue ribbon for his buddies and while yer at it let him get a look at those 'big ol titties'. By this time a hostess has come to inform you that there is a To Go order waiting on line one and you look up to see your ex boyfriend walk in with a 5'10" blue eyed blonde with brand new boobs and Gucci bag.

Still want my job?