Bar Pet Peeve #1,672: The Money Pile

Unless you are starting a tab you must tip every round! Putting your change in your pocket or giving me exact change then saying, "Get you next time," does not fly!

Some, take an extra step in the same (wrong) direction and leave their change in a pile somewhere in between themselves and my side of the bar (where one would leave a tip). These bills stay in some sort of purgatory, not safe and sound in my tip bucket nor in the fiery furnace of their grubby little hands.

Next, their friends might come and throw cash into the pile and order more drinks while I pull money out for each drink. At no point is anyone tipping or considering the destiny of this, now disheveled mass of cheddar or more important my sanity!

Yes, the party might grow and people might throw large bills in the stack but as more shots are ordered the dough dwindles and so does the chance that someone might be sober enough to consider some gratuity for the lady who's been managing the heap all night.

I'm not asking for them to make it rain, but show some love as you go. I cannot count the times that there has been over a hundred dollars of drinks ordered, people slowly dissipate and all that is left on the bar is a few dollars or even worse NOTHING!

I choose to take the highroad but really, what can you do?

The other day I did try out a passive aggressive approach. A large group, of what I assumed were co-workers, were operating with the money pile system for a good 3 hours and slowly people started leaving, one by one. When the last two stragglers got up to leave I sweetly said, "Oh, don't forget this money. I'm not sure who it belongs to...?" (Pick me! Pick me!!!!)

The twosome counted it and talked amongst themselves for a few minutes. I'm guessing they added to the pile because when they left there was an organized stack of what I accepted as an appropriate tip. Success!

Although, it could of easily gone awry. I could have totally seen the woman sloppily picking up the wet dollars and jamming the long edge of the bills in the front pocket of her tight khaki shorts. I would have flipped!

But... everyone lived. And I could carry on my night without losing it! Speaking of losing it- those punks totally lost out on potential buy backs because I wasn't giving them shit for free without tipping me. Their loss...

Well, here's s great people pleasing buy back shot and what the next Money Pile using customer I encounter must have:

BRASS BALLS

1/3 oz. Grand Mariner

1/3 oz. Peach Schnapps

1/3 oz. Pineapple juice

IN THE NAME OF

One of the bars I work at can be quite depressing. Sometimes while I'm tending the bar I realize that I am surrounded by nothing but men. Most of them alone, waiting for me to move down the line- shooting the breeze with each of them. Often, I try and strike up a communal chat about sports or the weather and knock out two sad souls at a time.

Many of them I know exactly what they drink, where they work and live, what baseball team they root for but have know clue what their name is. Babe, Sweetie, Hun, Love or Sugar is always a great substitute.

A cute little old man that sports wire rim glasses and a significant gap in between his two front teeth visits me at least twice a week. He works at some sort of fabric place and often brings in a big bag of clothing samples allowing me to choose two or three. This being hard because most of them are made primarily of lace (not my style) but still a nice gesture.

I promptly make him his Absolut and soda (no fruit) and with his eyes beaming across the bar he accurately thanks me by name.

"No problem, Babe," I respond.

I try not to feel guilty in most cases, stressing to myself that this can't be the pinnacle of their day... or I sure hope not.

I recently started a list for myself behind the bar of descriptions of people and their names:

Tall, photographer, Guinness = Brendan

Gin and Tonic, white hair, drinks standing up= Frank

Puerto Rican, laptop, PBR= _____(still waiting on that one)

The only problem is trying to gather the information in the first place. After months or years of interacting with someone on a regular basis it's impossible to ask, "What's your name?" The ways that don't work so well are:

-"So, how do you spell your name?" That leaves way too much room for looking like a real ass when their name is John, Dan, Mark etc.

-If they are paying with a credit card you can use the name on the card but sometimes it is clear that the 22 year-old drinking Jager probably doesn't go by his birth name, Frederick.

Wish me luck filling out my list in the meantime let's have a:

THE DRINK WITHOUT A NAME

Cocktail glass with ice

2 oz. Vodka

Splash of Grand Marnier

Splash of Chartreuse

Orange peel

RAINY DAY

Man, oh, man. I had yesterday (which was warm and sunny) off and I spent most the day in doors: cleaning, laundry, manicure.

And, OF COURSE, today is the day I had planned to go fishing, biking and on a sail boat ride. Well the fishing was just too damn early- 7am (no thanks). But the rest, just like Milli Vanilli "sang" I'm blaming it on the rain.

What is a girl to do? Museum, movie...blah.

I should problem do something charitable, like volunteer at an old folks home but in all honesty I will probably end up at a bar at some point. I pray that this old timer will be at the bar and I can can get a little geriatric fix. I will tell all my friends that I selflessly spent the day watching an old geez who, in turn, taught me a lot about life, love, fitness and dignity. I'm feeling better already!

Back to old men, who I love dearly- I have to share something disturbing with you that I always come across with these old gems at the bar. Having quite a few tattoos, I often get asked a lot of these questions by the over 60 blokes:

"What do your parents think about those?"

"You know that's gonna be there your whole life?!"

"How are you ever gonna find a boy to marry you?" (that was my own father)

Well after five or six beers (out of a little glass- old men always drink beer out of a little glass!!!) the questions always take a turn for the worse:

"So where else do you have tattoos?"

"Do you have any below the belt?"

ICK! GROSS! No! It's so weird on so many levels.

First of all, I understand men over 60 continue to have sexual thoughts but Gramps, I am half your age. Let's not talk about my vagina. Second, what kind of trashy ho tattoos her labia? If I am giving off the vibe that I would have someone draw out a stencil, gently place it on my muffin and then lay there with my legs spread eagle while they operate heavy machinery on my nether regions please tell me what I'm doing wrong! Third, what kind of tattoo would you even get down there? Fire? someone's name? smoke!? "Welcome" sign? "Come again"? I need not know. Not in my plans.

We can count that out for things for me to do today.

I leave you with a shot to help erase those foul images:

FLAMING DR. PEPPER

3/4 shot glass filled with Amaretto

Slowly top off shot glass with Bacardi 151

1/2 Pint of beer (cheap American beer is good)

Light shot glass on fire, drop in and chug.

Careful not to spill. You'll light your ass on fire.

And there are hilarious, tattooed lady part pics on the web (most photoshopped) but I will let you find them yourself...

WHAT?!?!

One of my biggest bar customer pet peeves (I got thousands) has to be when they mouth a drink order instead of audibly ordering it. Just some gums gabbing and nothing coming out...

This scenario repeatedly occurs regardless of how loud it is in the bar or my proximity to the voiceless subject. It has no rhyme or reason. It is normally accompanied by a hand gesture- perhaps, to direct me to what container they would like this secret beverage served in.

I can not read lips. I doubt that many people can. Just say it!!! And I know what to serve it in.

Unfortunately I couldn't get away with just giving them the most disgusting disaster I could come up with... Or could I? Swear to god someone does that to me tonight they are getting a free (yipee!) one of these.

CEMENT MIXER

1/2 oz Baileys Irish Cream

1/2 oz Lime Juice

It is disgusting. Curdles in your mouth. ICK! Don't try at home or ever...

God Bless

The weekend is here! A long holiday weekend that is...

I guess it's time to be patriotic but I gotta put our system in check for a minute over the new bill that just passed in the Senate giving the President full control over our internet access.

Dubbed as a defense mechanism for cyber terrorism, this bill violates our freedom of speech, access to information and impedes our communication with the rest of the world if executed. If there was a terrorist attack the last thing I would want is to be isolated in any way. Shutting down parts of the internet for me to view or inhibiting my access with others- No, thanks! I say we all learn how to throw a fit and make sure this bill doesn't pass.

On that note... I hope we can all have a festive weekend and be proud to be an American because of some of the amazing inventions that came out of our great country...

A huge thanks to:

Disposable Diapers- adding 3.4 million tons of shit to landfills every year

Radar Guns- Busted!

Magnetic Stripe Cards- ever since I got my "cute" leopard print Visa I've been in debt

TV dinners- I used to pray my mom would be too busy to cook me real food

Roller Blades- Helping men come out of the closet one stride at a time

Segways- So simple anyone can do it. Ooops

Thank the founding fathers and do a

STARS AND STRIPES

Build in small cocktail glass:

2/3 oz of Grenadine (first)

2/3 oz of Goldschlager

2/3 oz of Blue Curaco

The Hangover (not the movie)

So as you might have guessed, I am hungover.

Not only am I allowed to drink at my job but I am encouraged to do shots with customers to bring some life to the party. Many people, (including myself when I first got hired) think this sounds amazing. "You get to drink at work? How cool!" Fun times? Not always the case.

My tolerance is, if nothing else, disgusting. Yeah, I can put back 10, 15, even 20 shots of just about anything and still slang drinks and count money (sometimes accurately) but the real repercussions come the following day.

Your mouth is arid, stomach is in knots, head throbbing, can't sleep, can't move, hate yourself and life- we've all been there. If you haven't than you're not doing it right.

And yes, I know it is almost 11pm and I'm still hungover. Don't judge.

So I've spent the last few hours combing the web for hangover cures and most of them were pretty generic:

-Hair of the Dog always works but can create a vicious cycle
-Bloody Mary's still hair of the dog but not as blaten as ordering a tequila shot at noon
-Greasy/ spicy food personally eating something shitty just makes me feel shitier. I'll opt for a salad and then feel like I'm doing something right
-Exercise sounds awful. last thing I wanna do when I'm trying not to ralph
-Sex! might not be up for a wild romp but there are ways to get around that
-Water, water, water most the time when I'm hungover I am so thirsty but too lazy to even drink. Best to pound that stuff the night before.

So I leave you with the perfect hair of the dog suggestion for the brave:

BANDERA MEXICANA
-Tequila (blanco is best)
-Lime Juice
-Tomato Juice

Shake and strain each liquid into three separate shot glasses. Serve and shoot the three glasses in order of the Mexican flag: green (lime juice), white (tequila), red (tomato juice). Boom boom boom! You're back!

Big Loss

SoUS lost in the second round of the World Cup this afternoon and while riding my bike home from the bar I picked up on a somber vibe from the obstacles in the bike lane. Not only is the US out of the running for a World Cup victory but millions of dignified, contributing members of society are out an excuse to drink at socially unaccepted times in the morning. Why, oh why did you do this to us US soccer team? Back to this.

Here's a good cocktail you can sneak into work.

SPIKED CAPPUCCINO
Simple cappuccino
Add all or any combination of:
Frangelico
Baileys
Sambuca (my fav)