I should probably preface this rant with an apology for being more pessimistic than usual. I predominantly work on the patio and because of the cold front the last few days, we were wicked slow. I didn’t make nearly as much as I had planned on and budgeted for monthly (rent, bills, fantasy football dues, weed… the standards)

    Like I’ve acknowledged in prior posts, I’m usually a pretty miserable son of a bitch in my ramblings here. The thoughts and ideas I have scrambling my brain midshift make it to this page as a form of therapy for me so I don’t commit an unhonorable form hari cari (I’m pretty sure that’s an oxymoron) as I’m pouring another Mich Ultra to Pecs McGoo because “I’m on Atkin’s… Watchin’ my carbs, brah.” I normally feel a sense of relief the second I start jabbering away at my keyboard. I think my subconscious knows that all the horrible garbage I’ve just witnessed and tucked up and away during my nine hour shift of slinging drinks will soon be released out of my head and on to a page… kind of the same way that monstrous, gargantuan inmate from the Green Mile used to literally suck the evil out of people. Tonight my aggravation took on a whole new form I’ve never dealt with prior.

    The short and the end is that I’m pretty miserable as it is as I walk on shift. I know I need to make X number of dollars and I can quickly conclude that’s not going to happen because of the weather. It’s just simply too cold. Realizing this, I say brief prayer to the service industry Gods for a quick, painless shift (and by that I mean dumping three shots of Jameson and Bailey’s in my Dunkin Donuts Great One). I should have realized at the time that karma’s already stacked against me so nothing of the sort was possible.

    See, when it’s wicked slow like tonight, you run into a couple of problems. For one, you’re standing around doing nothing but thinking about how much money you need to be making but aren’t. Then when somebody *finally* walks up, there’s no escaping them. When you engage a guest when it’s busy and he starts talking about how (insert mindless topic you have no interest in whatsoever here), its very easy to give the illusion you’re interested for a few moments and then use any number of excuses (greeting a new table, checking food in the kitchen, ringing in drinks on the computer, etc) to slither away. When it’s one on one, like tonight, you’re friggin trapped man. It’s doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, only having the one guest to entertain and to talk to. It’s just that Murphy’s Law always kicks in when it’s just that one dude.

    99.8% of the time it you’re tending bar on a night the tumbleweeds are rolling in the distance and you’re entertaining one guest an hour, that single guy is always a depressing individual. He’s not depressing in the sense of “Oh, I just came home and found my wife banging the pool boy…and we don’t even own a pool.” He’s always depressing in the sense that he’s a ‘regular’ at the bar you work at, you see him *literally* every shift you work, and he offers the same mindless banter time and time again.

    To those outside the industry, that may not seem that bad at all. You don’t realize, however, what a toll that takes on you as an individual. You first start to realize that this guy is, in all honestly, probably at your work more than you are and he’s not even paid to be there. You realize this guy has the same stock stories, jokes, and anecdotes he recycles ever two months. Most importantly, you realize how this guy has been coming up to see you, sucking back his Dewars on the rocks, for over two years and not once have you ever heard about his wife, son, daughter, niece, nephew, or job for more than maybe a minute. Nothing.

    He probably spends six or seven hours a week in your vicinity and has never once cared to talk about something you or I would deem important or of value. The author of Waiter Rant, who only goes by the alias of The Waiter so his guests don’t know his actual identity, touched on the same topic. He said “It’s unfortunate. It’s unfortunate these people have almost no connection to the outside world. Their lives, dreams, hopes, and ambitions only come to life within these walls. The second they pay their tab and walk out our door, they are instantly nothing again.” He’s referring to the same sadness I see shift after shift. The depressing fact that so many people’s individual significance is dependant on the burnt out, scruffy haired, pot smoking college student who is paid to pour his drinks and listen to him literally talk about nothing.

    THAT was my night tonight. The most ironic part about it… right now, this second… I wish he stayed for a few more rounds…babbling about the trade he made for Hines Word in his fantasy league so his teams weekly score would be that much higher…and then his tab would have been that much higher…and then my tip would have been that much higher…and then I’d have the money to buy that bag and I’d be that much…better.