I know, I know. But this is SO VERY TRUE.
I speak from years of experience waiting tables at a dive-y bar, which were full of exchanges like the following:
What can I get you?
Do you have any specials?
Well, what’s a good shot then?
[Jesus.] I don’t know. A Kamikaze? A Jagerbomb? [A punch in the face?]
Hmmmm. How much is a Miller Light?
How much is an Amstel Light?
What kind of vodka do you have?
[BITCH JUST ORDER SOMETHING]
The usual…Ketel, Absolut, Grey Goose, Belvedere….
Hmm. What are you guys getting?
[WOMAN. IT’S A COCKTAIL FOR FUCK’S SAKE. NOT A MARRIAGE OR AN EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT.]
Okay, let me get a well vodka with a splash of cranberry and a splash of grapefruit.
So, a Sea Breeze?
Oh, it has a name?
Yeah, that’s its name. That it? [turning to leave]
On second thought.
Can I get an Irish coffee?
Yeah, that sounds good.
Sure, fine. I just have to go brew some coffee.
Oh, do you have decaf?
[WOMAN. YOU ARE GETTING DRUNK AT A DIVE BAR. DECAF???]
Yeah, sure. [Lies, all lies]
[Puts in order, makes coffee, finds the ONE FLAGON-LIKE GLASS we keep for Irish coffee, tops said disgusting abomination of a bar beverage with whipped cream that has been sitting in the beer cooler for 2 months. Ugh. Serves drink.]
Okay, that’s $5.50.
Wow, that’s expensive.
Well, I don’t set the prices.
Okay, here’s six. Keep the change.
Great, thanks. [Resolves never to return to this table again.]
Could you wipe this table off? It’s kind of sticky?
[OH. MY. GOD. If you want customer service, go to fucking Applebee’s.]
When the bartenders would leave me alone** so they could get food or smoke a bowl or walk their dogs or what have you, I instituted my own set of completely arbitrary rules, namely: I will make you a cocktail, provided it contains exactly two things, i.e. gin+tonic, vodka+cran, rum+coke. No “splash of this” or any of that bullshit. Or you can have a beer that comes in a bottle. Or a Coke. Those are your options.
*This may have been exaggerated for comedic effect. But not much.
**Granted, never during a rush, because I can’t actually pour a draft beer. Or open a bottle of wine. Or properly gauge the amount of booze that goes into a standard cocktail. No wonder I never got promoted. Hmmm.