The Bartender’s Plea

Originally published June 2004

Recently I was asked by some of my friends in F&B, [ed.—food and beverage] bartenders specifically, to tackle the rather delicate issue of how you, as patrons, should handle yourselves when at the bar. Having done a decade in the restaurant biz myself, I feel the bartender’s pain immeasurably. So consider this your own personal boozehound Bible.

First of all, whether or not you hail from a third world country where the barter system is still alive and well, you are not in a third world country now. When you ask for a drink and the bartender tells you it’s $6.00 the wrong response is “I have $3.50” or “Is this enough?” If you can’t afford to go out and drink, don’t.

On that same note, don’t come out looking for the “hook up.” If you get hooked up, be grateful, but I promise that if you come in looking for, or expecting, the hook up you’ll learn a hard and expensive lesson.

And for crying out loud, when you’ve been standing at the bar for a few minutes waiting to order and a visibly winded bartender gives you the point and nod KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT TO DRINK! It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who will ask the bartender with a straight face, “I don’t know, what do you think I should have?” I think you should have… gone to someone else’s bar. (I worked at a bar where the standard response to a question that stupid was a Rugger. Don’t know what a Rugger is? Count your blessings.)

Grenadine has no business in a bottle of Corona. Period.

Eat before you go out. Olives, maraschino cherries and orange slices do not constitute a balanced diet, and more importantly they’re not free. It’s a bar, not a buffet.

The soda gun is behind the bar. You’re in front of the bar. Let’s keep it that way.

If a bartender rolls his or her eyes at you, go ahead and take it personally.

Don’t order a beer, whip out your credit card and dismissively say, “just close it out.” Do that and you may as well get on the bar and tell everyone else who’s waiting for a drink to grab their ankles.

Now this next point is very important to a dear friend of mine, and I fear that if you people don’t cut this crap out, he’s gonna go right over the edge. So for those of you who have ever paid with bills that were more spherical in nature than flat and rectangular, pay close attention. Do you intentionally wad your money up before putting it in your pocket, or is it some sort of involuntary spasm that causes you to mold your cash into itsy bitsy balls of currency? Bartenders want cash, not origami.

I’ve never met a bartender named Hey You, Wait, Over Here, or Yo.

Bartenders are not cabs, so don’t try to hail one. Nor are bartenders dogs (in the canine sense), whistling and/or snapping will not make one come running.

Pounding on the bar—with a fist or empty bottle—will get you a great view of the parking lot.

Don’t question the bartender’s pour (especially in the mini-bottle south). The 10^th drink will never taste as strong as the first. And, as an aside, you aren’t supposed to taste the alcohol in Piña Coladas, etc.—if you’re going to order Froof, drink it in silence.

There is one thing between you and your next drink: the bartender. Arguing with the bartender will leave you sober and thirsty. There was a great sign that hung behind the first bar I tended and it read, “When we’re at your house, we’ll play by your rules.” Words to live by, kids.

If the bar is packed, Keep It Simple Stupid. Don’t order drinks that require, “splashes,” “smidgens,” or “just a hint of” anything.

Don’t be surprised when a 20% tip shows up on the tab you walked out on.

And while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about tipping. Ye gods, where do I start? Bartending is not charity work, gang. And more often than not the difference between a 10% tip and a 20% tip is in the neighborhood of 50 cents (per drink). But that 50 cents, whichever side you care to come down on, will get you remembered. Your service will either improve exponentially or you will become invisible. It’s your choice. A good rule of thumb: a buck a beer. Can’t figure out 20%? Take the first two numbers, double them and round up. It’s that easy.

Finally, bartenders “know the owner” too. If you were that important the owner would have dropped your name.

Look, I realize this isn’t anything a rooftop and an AK-47 won’t cure. But I think a better solution is to just be a little more considerate. Imagine, for a minute, being at work. Think of all the knuckleheads you interact with during your work day. Now imagine them dead drunk or hell-bent on getting that way. Yikes is right. Remember that bartenders are servers, not servants and should be treated as such. All it takes is another ‘please,’ a few ‘thank yous’ and an extra couple of bucks on the bar when all is said and done. But that’s enough out of me—it’s gotta be 5 o’clock somewhere, and I need a drink.