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