Prologue
It looked like a dive from the outside - there were no windows, no trees, no lawn - just stones and a sea of black top with every imaginable truck model anchored to it. Green and beige paint was peeling off of the building. I tried really hard, but I just couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would want to spend that much time in this place – especially during the day, when sunlight gave away all of the flaws that night was meant to hide. Nothing stirred except for a tall skinny man who looked like he could have been ZZ Top’s twin flicking ashes off of his cigarette. He narrowed his eyes when he saw me, and gave a quick nod. I smiled meekly, and hastily averted my eyes. I was twenty years old and completely outside of my comfort zone of books and papers.
I pulled the heavy wooden door open, and a musky scent was sucked towards my face. I stepped in and immediately regretted my clothing choice. The white of my “interview” outfit directly contrasted the dark and dismal bar that was to my left. I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb, and all I wanted was for the wooden floor to open up and swallow me whole before the row of drunken old men sitting at the bar did. I knew that if I worked here I would be torn to shreds, but what choice did I have? My family had been pushing for me to get a job serving for so long, and every other place I had tried demanded experience. I gulped down the lump that was forming in my throat, and walked towards the bar to ask for Pete.
I hid behind a mask of silence from July until October.– I was fresh meat, and I knew it more than anyone. I would answer questions as curtly as possible, and kept away from bar gossip as much as I could. Regulars would try every pickup line in the book, other servers would do whatever they could to undermine me and screw me out of tables. The owners were watching me like hawks – when my manager wasn’t high on coke, I could practically feel him breathing down my neck. They were all waiting for me to slip up. It would only take one wrong move, one more reason other than my sheer novelty.
After almost a year of hiding behind avoidance, I began to breathe a little easier. I stopped ducking out of conversations and began to engage. I learned what customers, questions, and conversations to avoid. My skin was scaling over, and I realized that if I ever wanted to survive here, I’d have to belong…
This project confronts those changes, experiences, and events that I have witnessed that have made this bar my second home, and those who also work there my second family.
The tweets:
"Ohh, you wanted dirty ice with that? I’ll give you dirty ice…"
" Mid-day Crowd on Sunday except for those of u who decided it’s necessary to come @11 I don’t know whether or not to be impressed"
" 'hold down the fort!' have I really been here for that long?"
"You have become more of a big sister to me than my actual sister, and I never thought I’d find that anywhere"
“no roberta today! It’s going to be a good day!”
"Overnight, it has been transformed from a place of insanity back to my second home. I love the quiet and relaxation of Sundays"
*all of these were tweeted on Feb 13th because I had to write them down over the course of my shifts over the weekend and then post them up when I had access to my computer.
I pulled the heavy wooden door open, and a musky scent was sucked towards my face. I stepped in and immediately regretted my clothing choice. The white of my “interview” outfit directly contrasted the dark and dismal bar that was to my left. I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb, and all I wanted was for the wooden floor to open up and swallow me whole before the row of drunken old men sitting at the bar did. I knew that if I worked here I would be torn to shreds, but what choice did I have? My family had been pushing for me to get a job serving for so long, and every other place I had tried demanded experience. I gulped down the lump that was forming in my throat, and walked towards the bar to ask for Pete.
I hid behind a mask of silence from July until October.– I was fresh meat, and I knew it more than anyone. I would answer questions as curtly as possible, and kept away from bar gossip as much as I could. Regulars would try every pickup line in the book, other servers would do whatever they could to undermine me and screw me out of tables. The owners were watching me like hawks – when my manager wasn’t high on coke, I could practically feel him breathing down my neck. They were all waiting for me to slip up. It would only take one wrong move, one more reason other than my sheer novelty.
After almost a year of hiding behind avoidance, I began to breathe a little easier. I stopped ducking out of conversations and began to engage. I learned what customers, questions, and conversations to avoid. My skin was scaling over, and I realized that if I ever wanted to survive here, I’d have to belong…
This project confronts those changes, experiences, and events that I have witnessed that have made this bar my second home, and those who also work there my second family.
The tweets:
"Ohh, you wanted dirty ice with that? I’ll give you dirty ice…"
" Mid-day Crowd on Sunday except for those of u who decided it’s necessary to come @11 I don’t know whether or not to be impressed"
" 'hold down the fort!' have I really been here for that long?"
"You have become more of a big sister to me than my actual sister, and I never thought I’d find that anywhere"
“no roberta today! It’s going to be a good day!”
"Overnight, it has been transformed from a place of insanity back to my second home. I love the quiet and relaxation of Sundays"
*all of these were tweeted on Feb 13th because I had to write them down over the course of my shifts over the weekend and then post them up when I had access to my computer.
Interview
Pete: “So where are ya from?”
He was trying to bring down my guard; his lax language didn’t fool me. It was difficult to keep him from seeing me sweat - my legs were crossed so tightly my thigh was beginning to cramp.
Liv: “A few blocks away, I grew up here.”
P: “Oh, a local girl! That’s great! We prefer to have people from the area working here. What’s your experience like?”
L: “I’ve worked in two pizza shops behind the counter, and I’ve worked as a hostess at a wine bar in New Brunswick.”
P: “How did you like the experience at the wine bar?”
L: “It was okay, it was most definitely a different experience.” I avoided eye contact to keep him crom seeing through my lies. I hated that place.
P: “Why did you leave?”
Because I had nightmares every night after my shift? The only good dream I had after working there wasone in which I punched my manager so hard he was knocked out. The job terrified me. Those people could not have their noses in the air any higher if they tried.
L: “There were too many scheduling conflicts, they kept scheduling me when I had class, so it just wasn’t working out.”
P: “Oh, I see. Your schedule isn’t going to be in the way with working here, is it?”
L: “No, I have several nights during the week and weekends open, time won’t be an issue.”
P: “That's good, we definitely have a few shifts that need coverage. Just out of curiosity, what have you been studying?”
L: “I was studying Psychology at Rutgers in New Brunswick, but I will be transferring to Rowan to study Early Childhood Ed and Special Education.”
P: “Ahh, psych, eh? Sounds like you can deal with people pretty well…when can you start?”
'Sounds like you can deal with people pretty well"? Deal? As if the scene at the bar wasn't enough of a warning for me...I should have taken these last few words much more seriously than I did at the time.
He was trying to bring down my guard; his lax language didn’t fool me. It was difficult to keep him from seeing me sweat - my legs were crossed so tightly my thigh was beginning to cramp.
Liv: “A few blocks away, I grew up here.”
P: “Oh, a local girl! That’s great! We prefer to have people from the area working here. What’s your experience like?”
L: “I’ve worked in two pizza shops behind the counter, and I’ve worked as a hostess at a wine bar in New Brunswick.”
P: “How did you like the experience at the wine bar?”
L: “It was okay, it was most definitely a different experience.” I avoided eye contact to keep him crom seeing through my lies. I hated that place.
P: “Why did you leave?”
Because I had nightmares every night after my shift? The only good dream I had after working there wasone in which I punched my manager so hard he was knocked out. The job terrified me. Those people could not have their noses in the air any higher if they tried.
L: “There were too many scheduling conflicts, they kept scheduling me when I had class, so it just wasn’t working out.”
P: “Oh, I see. Your schedule isn’t going to be in the way with working here, is it?”
L: “No, I have several nights during the week and weekends open, time won’t be an issue.”
P: “That's good, we definitely have a few shifts that need coverage. Just out of curiosity, what have you been studying?”
L: “I was studying Psychology at Rutgers in New Brunswick, but I will be transferring to Rowan to study Early Childhood Ed and Special Education.”
P: “Ahh, psych, eh? Sounds like you can deal with people pretty well…when can you start?”
'Sounds like you can deal with people pretty well"? Deal? As if the scene at the bar wasn't enough of a warning for me...I should have taken these last few words much more seriously than I did at the time.
We may be a little crazy, but we make this place what it is...
Ninja
She rarely smiles, but has the energy of a rocket. Quick-witted, always ready with a comeback. Ninja, one of our head bartenders, has been there the longest of any of us. She’s intimidating at first, but once you get to know her, you come to find that she is the big-sister type. She’s always there to listen, and knows how to get you to have a good time. She’s a party girl, but knows how to keep things together. Whatever you do, do not piss her off; unless you want to see her leap over the bar and single-handedly “escort” you out of the bar, keep yourself in check when she’s working. She has a very low tolerance for b.s., so leave it out of the picture. It took a year since I’ve started working there, but she has become the person that I am closest with and have found that I have the most in common with.
“Heyyy hooker!” Ninja laughed and hugged me even though her eyes are barely open.
“Hey, chicky! Why are we still here? I seriously didn’t get to bed until 6 this morning. My head is POUNDING. Did you get to bed right away after we got home?” I asked. I knew I wasn’t feeling too great after last night’s escapade, but she looked like she was in worse shape than I was.
“Nahh, Jenelle and I were up until about 7:30 just bsing on the couch. We were talkin about that guy from Richeez last night…the one who just walked over and lifted up his shirt. Remember that guy?”
“HAH! The ‘you know you want this’ guy? He was out of his friggin mind! Who does that?!”
“Apparently he thought it was gonna work.”
“I wanted nothing to do with that one, I walked away. I was laughing too hard to even yell at him.”
“Not me! I was like ‘First of all, jackass, if you’re gonna lift your shirt up like that at us, at least have SOMETHING worth showing off. You’re a skinny little shrimp! Second of all, you look like you’re about 19. Do you really think any of the three of us would want any of that? Get real. Leave us the hell alone!’” Ninja recounted.
“He must have been embarrassed!”
“I don’t give a shit, he should have left us alone. And then his white-trash ugly-ass chick came over and tried to start something because he approached us. I cursed her out and called over a bouncer to get her away from me. You were in the bathroom at this point.”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“What, you know I don’t take any crap from anyone!”
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that one, Ninj. I don’t think you’ll ever have to remind me.”
“Heyyy hooker!” Ninja laughed and hugged me even though her eyes are barely open.
“Hey, chicky! Why are we still here? I seriously didn’t get to bed until 6 this morning. My head is POUNDING. Did you get to bed right away after we got home?” I asked. I knew I wasn’t feeling too great after last night’s escapade, but she looked like she was in worse shape than I was.
“Nahh, Jenelle and I were up until about 7:30 just bsing on the couch. We were talkin about that guy from Richeez last night…the one who just walked over and lifted up his shirt. Remember that guy?”
“HAH! The ‘you know you want this’ guy? He was out of his friggin mind! Who does that?!”
“Apparently he thought it was gonna work.”
“I wanted nothing to do with that one, I walked away. I was laughing too hard to even yell at him.”
“Not me! I was like ‘First of all, jackass, if you’re gonna lift your shirt up like that at us, at least have SOMETHING worth showing off. You’re a skinny little shrimp! Second of all, you look like you’re about 19. Do you really think any of the three of us would want any of that? Get real. Leave us the hell alone!’” Ninja recounted.
“He must have been embarrassed!”
“I don’t give a shit, he should have left us alone. And then his white-trash ugly-ass chick came over and tried to start something because he approached us. I cursed her out and called over a bouncer to get her away from me. You were in the bathroom at this point.”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“What, you know I don’t take any crap from anyone!”
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that one, Ninj. I don’t think you’ll ever have to remind me.”
Jenelle
Another bartender, best friends with Ninja, but more calm with a much higher tolerance level towards people and their ridiculous antics (although she is not afraid to put you in your place). She’s quiet, but not shy.
“Hey honey! How are you?”
“Hey Jenelle! I feel like I haven’t worked with you in so long!”
“I know! Oh, by the way, we’re thinking about going to AC next week…MurMur Mondays are coming back! You should come down with us!”
“I’ll have to rain check on that one.”
“Oh, come on! You haven’t gone down with us in so long!”
“I know, I have to wait until the semester is over. I’ll go down after finals when I’ll have the time and won’t have to worry about class. So, how much trouble is Ninj going to get into this time down there?”
“Haha, nah, she’ll be good. I’ll keep my eye on her.”
“It was scary the other night with her without you there. She almost got into a fight with some chick while I was in the bathroom,” I told her
“I heard! She’s nuts. She told me all about it after she got home. I don’t think I’d ever go that far with some dumb chick like that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. You stand your ground, but I don’t think you go as crazy as she does. I’ve only seen you physically kick someone out of the bar once, I’ve seen her do it plenty of times.”
“I don’t get as mad as quickly as she does. So what are you up to tonight after work, you down for coming out or do you have other plans?”
“I’m not sure yet, it depends on how tired I am when I’m done.”
"Okay, well make sure you call Ninj when you're done if you wanna come out. I'm thinking it's not going to be as nuts as last time you guys went out, I think we're going to keep it pretty low-key. At least, that's what I'm hoping."
"Yeah I'm with you on that one!"
“Hey honey! How are you?”
“Hey Jenelle! I feel like I haven’t worked with you in so long!”
“I know! Oh, by the way, we’re thinking about going to AC next week…MurMur Mondays are coming back! You should come down with us!”
“I’ll have to rain check on that one.”
“Oh, come on! You haven’t gone down with us in so long!”
“I know, I have to wait until the semester is over. I’ll go down after finals when I’ll have the time and won’t have to worry about class. So, how much trouble is Ninj going to get into this time down there?”
“Haha, nah, she’ll be good. I’ll keep my eye on her.”
“It was scary the other night with her without you there. She almost got into a fight with some chick while I was in the bathroom,” I told her
“I heard! She’s nuts. She told me all about it after she got home. I don’t think I’d ever go that far with some dumb chick like that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. You stand your ground, but I don’t think you go as crazy as she does. I’ve only seen you physically kick someone out of the bar once, I’ve seen her do it plenty of times.”
“I don’t get as mad as quickly as she does. So what are you up to tonight after work, you down for coming out or do you have other plans?”
“I’m not sure yet, it depends on how tired I am when I’m done.”
"Okay, well make sure you call Ninj when you're done if you wanna come out. I'm thinking it's not going to be as nuts as last time you guys went out, I think we're going to keep it pretty low-key. At least, that's what I'm hoping."
"Yeah I'm with you on that one!"
Len
Also a bartender. Perhaps the most intense person in the bar at any point when he is working. He is covered from the neck down in tattoos, is as skinny as a twig, but can break you in two. He is sharp-witted, sarcastic, and has a very dry sense of humor. He swears he hates all people, and is so jaded from tending bar for so long. Maybe he’s right, but I’ve always thought that there was a sweet side to the guy – I just can’t let on that I can see it.
I was talking to Poker, one of the regulars at the bar. He was telling me about his latest run-in with the pool team last week, when I felt a tinge of discomfort. Someone was starting, and I knew exactly who it was. I turned to the bar, and there was Len with his signature icy death stare.
"What the hell did I do now?" I asked. He hadn't even been on his shift for more than five minutes, and he's already starting this crap?
"Nothing." He broke his stare and grinned sheepishly. "I just wanted to make you feel uncomfortable."
"Do you really think that I'm not used to this by now?"
"Nope." He said curtly. He pivoted and strode off to the other side of the bar serve a customer who had sat down at the far side of the bar. I glanced to Poker, who was shaking his head and laughing.
I walked behind the bar the help out with the glasses that were stacking up on top of the dishwasher. Suddenly there was a quick jab in my side, and a hissed "Get out of my bar!" in my ear. Guess who was at it again! I turned and went to punch him in the stomach, but he grabbed my fist and twisted me around so that my back was to him. I tried to break free of his grasp, but I was laughing too hard to manage. He gave me a quick shove, smiled, and cocked his head to the side just to rub his "victory" in a little more. He put his hand on top of my head and messed up my hair.
"Now get the hell back to work!" he shouted, and stuck his tongue out at me.
At least I got my nightly Len Beating out of the way for that shift.
I was talking to Poker, one of the regulars at the bar. He was telling me about his latest run-in with the pool team last week, when I felt a tinge of discomfort. Someone was starting, and I knew exactly who it was. I turned to the bar, and there was Len with his signature icy death stare.
"What the hell did I do now?" I asked. He hadn't even been on his shift for more than five minutes, and he's already starting this crap?
"Nothing." He broke his stare and grinned sheepishly. "I just wanted to make you feel uncomfortable."
"Do you really think that I'm not used to this by now?"
"Nope." He said curtly. He pivoted and strode off to the other side of the bar serve a customer who had sat down at the far side of the bar. I glanced to Poker, who was shaking his head and laughing.
I walked behind the bar the help out with the glasses that were stacking up on top of the dishwasher. Suddenly there was a quick jab in my side, and a hissed "Get out of my bar!" in my ear. Guess who was at it again! I turned and went to punch him in the stomach, but he grabbed my fist and twisted me around so that my back was to him. I tried to break free of his grasp, but I was laughing too hard to manage. He gave me a quick shove, smiled, and cocked his head to the side just to rub his "victory" in a little more. He put his hand on top of my head and messed up my hair.
"Now get the hell back to work!" he shouted, and stuck his tongue out at me.
At least I got my nightly Len Beating out of the way for that shift.
Conner
Baby-faced sweet-hearted bartender. He is perhaps the most innocent person at the bar. Can be considered a work-a-holic: he often comes in and helps with cooking on weekends when he is not tending bar or saving lives with his other job. He always knows how to make you laugh, no matter how bad your day has been. You are more than likely to find him singing karaoke along to Toto after downing several Guinnesses.
John
Owner, manager. Can’t sit still to save his life, but is very easy going - one of the nicest people I’ve ever worked for. He takes great care of his employees and patrons – I know several customers that come there just for him. If he were to ever leave, I’m sure the majority of us would follow him to wherever he went. He’s like a father figure, and always makes sure that we are protected. Also easily loses his temper, has what we all call “John moments” when he gets angry – they are sure to get your attention – he already has a loud booming voice.
Bruce
Part cook, part manager, part owner, part bouncer, part handyman... I think you get the picture. In another life, this man would have been a bounty hunter. He’s huge, buff, but older and graying - so although he may not look like he could kill someone, not very many people (if any at all…I honestly can’t think of a single soul) have won in a fight with him. He’s another one not to piss off when he’s in a mood. He is another father figure, and will deny it until the day he dies, but he is one of the most caring people in the bar.
"Hey Olivia, did I tell you my latest?"
"No, Bruce, you didn't. I'm not so sure I want to hear it though..."
He leaned against the wall and rubbed his back against it, like a huge black bear would do to a tree. "Sure you do! So what's the difference between Martin Luther King Day and St. Patrick's Day?"
I sighed deeply and gave in. "Go ahead, what is it?"
"Everyone wants to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day..."
I shook my head and tried to walk away, but he caught me again.
"Did I tell ya about this guy last night who tried to break a bottle over my head?"
"Oh, christ, Bruce, now what the hell happened with you?"
"Nothing happened to me, I can assure you that. He just ended up kissing some pavement, that's all. Hey, by the way, we have a party coming up next week. There's gonna be 40, and it's a sit-down lunch deal for something in Poker's family."
"Do they have a meal option or is it off the menu?"
"They're gettin either prime rib or chicken parm. You're just gonna have to figure out wh decided to get what adn what the meat temps are gonna be for each of them."
"Is anyone else working the party with me?"
"I don't know, and I don't really care. You know how these parties go. As long as it's you and me on it, I don't really care who else is there."
"True."
"Just keep it in mind when you start to get nervous when things get a little crazy with figuring out who wants what. Pretend it's just me and you, and we'll work it out."
"Hey Olivia, did I tell you my latest?"
"No, Bruce, you didn't. I'm not so sure I want to hear it though..."
He leaned against the wall and rubbed his back against it, like a huge black bear would do to a tree. "Sure you do! So what's the difference between Martin Luther King Day and St. Patrick's Day?"
I sighed deeply and gave in. "Go ahead, what is it?"
"Everyone wants to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day..."
I shook my head and tried to walk away, but he caught me again.
"Did I tell ya about this guy last night who tried to break a bottle over my head?"
"Oh, christ, Bruce, now what the hell happened with you?"
"Nothing happened to me, I can assure you that. He just ended up kissing some pavement, that's all. Hey, by the way, we have a party coming up next week. There's gonna be 40, and it's a sit-down lunch deal for something in Poker's family."
"Do they have a meal option or is it off the menu?"
"They're gettin either prime rib or chicken parm. You're just gonna have to figure out wh decided to get what adn what the meat temps are gonna be for each of them."
"Is anyone else working the party with me?"
"I don't know, and I don't really care. You know how these parties go. As long as it's you and me on it, I don't really care who else is there."
"True."
"Just keep it in mind when you start to get nervous when things get a little crazy with figuring out who wants what. Pretend it's just me and you, and we'll work it out."
Ultra
Patron, usually seen sitting behind a “Tall Boy”, our 23 oz beer special, or the cheapest beer we have on special. He will not let you forget to take off his “senior discount”, even if it only takes off 80 cents. He will tell you the same story 50 times, and he’s getting worse with age. He is almost ALWAYS there; he might as well be a piece of furniture in the bar.
"Hiya, Olivia."
"Hey, Ultra, how are you?"
"I'm fine, just fine. You know I won't be needing a dinner special menu today, I already had a huge great lunch at Red Lobster today. Six ninety-five for a jumbalaya lunch special there, and it was delicious! Of course, I got a senior discount there, so it was even less, but boy, it was good."
"Oh, okay. I'm glad you enjoyed it!" I went along with it, but I knew he told me the same thing not even two days ago. It was almost verbatim.
"Yeah, the jumbalaya was delicious. Hey, nice weather we're having! Did you know the Phillies are on tonight?"
"Yeah, I'm wearing my Phillies shirt. Gotta be ready, you know?"
"Yeah, you're all ready! All right, nice talkin to you, uh, Olivia."
"Nice talkin to you too, I'll come check on you in about an hour or so, okay?" Thank god that was one of his shorter conversations. He always knows how to suck you in, and there is no polite way to get away. I knew he'd be hungry in an hour, he probably dind't even eat lunch today.
"Okay, sounds good Liv."
"Hiya, Olivia."
"Hey, Ultra, how are you?"
"I'm fine, just fine. You know I won't be needing a dinner special menu today, I already had a huge great lunch at Red Lobster today. Six ninety-five for a jumbalaya lunch special there, and it was delicious! Of course, I got a senior discount there, so it was even less, but boy, it was good."
"Oh, okay. I'm glad you enjoyed it!" I went along with it, but I knew he told me the same thing not even two days ago. It was almost verbatim.
"Yeah, the jumbalaya was delicious. Hey, nice weather we're having! Did you know the Phillies are on tonight?"
"Yeah, I'm wearing my Phillies shirt. Gotta be ready, you know?"
"Yeah, you're all ready! All right, nice talkin to you, uh, Olivia."
"Nice talkin to you too, I'll come check on you in about an hour or so, okay?" Thank god that was one of his shorter conversations. He always knows how to suck you in, and there is no polite way to get away. I knew he'd be hungry in an hour, he probably dind't even eat lunch today.
"Okay, sounds good Liv."
Poker
The only person I’ve ever seen bring their laptop into a bar every time and play online poker for hours on end. Has been known to get a little out of hand on occasion when drunk – has been involved in a few fights (most recent injury: broken jaw, but still came in on a regular basis with his jaw wired shut), has kicked a hole in the wall on one occasion, but honestly cares about every single person that works in this bar – which is usually why he ends up in fights in the first place. It just wouldn’t be the same bar without him there, and everyone knows it.
Ethel
Sunday morning regular. Sits in a booth by herself, is at least over seventy years old, and starts off with an Absolut Martini as soon as she walks in the door. Extremely particular and picky. Has a routine that we all must follow when serving her – everything has a specific time to come out, and should be set in a specific way down on the table. Known for squabbling over fifty cents, but otherwise very well-mannered and well-spoken. Great story-teller, and loves to talk. Part of the Sunday Morning Routine.
The Importance of Tolerance
1. “Do you have a bar?”
Do you know the name of the place you are calling? Aren’t the words “Bar and Grill” in the name? Okay then. Good talk.
2. “Are you open?”
Did we answer the phone? (This was around 6 o’clock on a Saturday…)
3. “How many fries come with the burger?”
Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven fries will come with your burger.
4. “Can I see a dessert menu?”
-Where do you think you are, the Cheesecake Factory?
5. “Oh, that tequila sunrise is so pretty. It looks really good. Does it have tequila in it though? ‘Cause I don’t like tequila…”
6. “Why are these Fried Chicken Tenders so greasy?”
7. “Do you dance for tips?
8. “Does a Long Island Iced Tea have alcohol in it?”
9. “Are you interested in trying an appetizer?”
“No, we didn’t have dinner yet.”
10. “Do you want your wings naked or breaded?”
“What does breaded mean?”
11. “How much am I supposed to tip you?”
A lot.
12. “Can I get BBQ sauce on the side?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Then can I get the BBQ sauce on the wings?”
Nope. Not possible.
13. “I know that it is really busy, but I don’t want to eat until the second period is over and there is a longer commercial break, so please wait 20 minutes before putting in this order. I want…”
Seriously, he couldn’t have just waited 20 more minutes before ordering? I’m not a clock watcher, that is not my job..
14. On the phone: “Heyy, I just tried to get in, but the door was locked. Are you guys closed or something?”
15. “Do you have frozen drinks?
“No, sorry.”
“Then can I get a strawberry daiquiri?”
Do you know the name of the place you are calling? Aren’t the words “Bar and Grill” in the name? Okay then. Good talk.
2. “Are you open?”
Did we answer the phone? (This was around 6 o’clock on a Saturday…)
3. “How many fries come with the burger?”
Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven fries will come with your burger.
4. “Can I see a dessert menu?”
-Where do you think you are, the Cheesecake Factory?
5. “Oh, that tequila sunrise is so pretty. It looks really good. Does it have tequila in it though? ‘Cause I don’t like tequila…”
6. “Why are these Fried Chicken Tenders so greasy?”
7. “Do you dance for tips?
8. “Does a Long Island Iced Tea have alcohol in it?”
9. “Are you interested in trying an appetizer?”
“No, we didn’t have dinner yet.”
10. “Do you want your wings naked or breaded?”
“What does breaded mean?”
11. “How much am I supposed to tip you?”
A lot.
12. “Can I get BBQ sauce on the side?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Then can I get the BBQ sauce on the wings?”
Nope. Not possible.
13. “I know that it is really busy, but I don’t want to eat until the second period is over and there is a longer commercial break, so please wait 20 minutes before putting in this order. I want…”
Seriously, he couldn’t have just waited 20 more minutes before ordering? I’m not a clock watcher, that is not my job..
14. On the phone: “Heyy, I just tried to get in, but the door was locked. Are you guys closed or something?”
15. “Do you have frozen drinks?
“No, sorry.”
“Then can I get a strawberry daiquiri?”
Sunday Funday - Not your typical "Family Dinner Table" conversation...
Sunday mornings smell like bleach – Harry is mopping; the pungeant smell of alcohol from last night's stale bar mats and dirty french fry grease have not yet had the chance to permeate the air. I’ve come to love that smell. There is a certain purity to the bar on Sunday mornings – we even get a bit of sunlight in instead of the blaring neons. Ninja is restocking the bar. Trashcans scrape against the floor, bottles clank in the case as they are carried from the walk-in fridge to the ice in the bar. I glance around the dining room and at the booths – only 6 tables have been reset, so it must have been a fairly decent night last night. Now I have the pleasure of cleaning it all up. Will someone please explain to me why people find it necessary to stick their chewed up gum on the plates, instead of in a napkin that can be easily thrown away? I hate scraping off that stuff!
“Heyyyyy, how are ya?” - Seriously, best impression of Ultra ever. “I already vacuumed, I’m not sure if you do that normally on Sundays or not, but I just did it really quick.”
“Thanks, Conner. Was it really bad?”
“Naaahh, just friggin napkins and shit everywhere. Not too bad. There are bagels on the bar if you want one.”
“Yeah, I’ll grab one when I finish up with this stuff.”
“Hey, you going to eat or what?”
I pull up a bar stool and grab a bagel.
“Hey Bruce, I think we’re missing a light or two in the men’s room..”
“Yeah, no kidding. I guess you didn’t hear about our latest lunatic.”
“Oh Jesus, that guy was fucked up!” Ninja laughed.
“Why, what happened now? And why does this involve light bulbs?”
John, our manager, walked in from the bank and overheard our conversation. “Ohh, I gotta hear this, it just doesn’t get old!”
Bruce had a gleam in his eye. He must have gotten physical with someone last night, that’s the only other time I see his chest swell and smile like that.
“So there’s this crazy guy, his hair was a damn mess, and he reeked of piss. He comes in here last night and drags his dirty backpack into the bathroom with him. Fifteen minutes later, Ron comes out of the bathroom and comes up to me and tells me that there’s a weird guy taking down the light bulbs out of the ceiling. I walk in there, and this retard is sticking his finger in where the socket is and trying to turn on the water in the sink. The damn light bulbs he took were in his backpack. “
“What?! Why the hell was he doing that? Was he trying to kill himself?”
“I guess. So I grabbed him and threw him out of the bathroom. He tried to walk back in, so I dragged his ass outside. “
“Did he leave after that?”
“Liv, do they ever wise up and just leave?” John snorted.
“No, of course he didn’t leave. The fucker threw a punch!”
“Sooo you had a field day last night, didn’t you?” I chuckled.
“Listen,” Bruce got real close, his eyes twinkled even more. “I punched that guy so hard his friggin’ head bounced on the pavement, and the crazy ass still got up! We called the cops and they hauled ‘em off.”
“You just can’t make this shit up. That’s gonna be our motto. John? Let’s paint it above the door!” Conner emphatically raised his hands above over the doorway. His eyebrows were raised, and he chuckled proudly. John sipped his coffee.
“Nope, you know our motto. If no one else will take you, we will.”
“Heyyyyy, how are ya?” - Seriously, best impression of Ultra ever. “I already vacuumed, I’m not sure if you do that normally on Sundays or not, but I just did it really quick.”
“Thanks, Conner. Was it really bad?”
“Naaahh, just friggin napkins and shit everywhere. Not too bad. There are bagels on the bar if you want one.”
“Yeah, I’ll grab one when I finish up with this stuff.”
“Hey, you going to eat or what?”
I pull up a bar stool and grab a bagel.
“Hey Bruce, I think we’re missing a light or two in the men’s room..”
“Yeah, no kidding. I guess you didn’t hear about our latest lunatic.”
“Oh Jesus, that guy was fucked up!” Ninja laughed.
“Why, what happened now? And why does this involve light bulbs?”
John, our manager, walked in from the bank and overheard our conversation. “Ohh, I gotta hear this, it just doesn’t get old!”
Bruce had a gleam in his eye. He must have gotten physical with someone last night, that’s the only other time I see his chest swell and smile like that.
“So there’s this crazy guy, his hair was a damn mess, and he reeked of piss. He comes in here last night and drags his dirty backpack into the bathroom with him. Fifteen minutes later, Ron comes out of the bathroom and comes up to me and tells me that there’s a weird guy taking down the light bulbs out of the ceiling. I walk in there, and this retard is sticking his finger in where the socket is and trying to turn on the water in the sink. The damn light bulbs he took were in his backpack. “
“What?! Why the hell was he doing that? Was he trying to kill himself?”
“I guess. So I grabbed him and threw him out of the bathroom. He tried to walk back in, so I dragged his ass outside. “
“Did he leave after that?”
“Liv, do they ever wise up and just leave?” John snorted.
“No, of course he didn’t leave. The fucker threw a punch!”
“Sooo you had a field day last night, didn’t you?” I chuckled.
“Listen,” Bruce got real close, his eyes twinkled even more. “I punched that guy so hard his friggin’ head bounced on the pavement, and the crazy ass still got up! We called the cops and they hauled ‘em off.”
“You just can’t make this shit up. That’s gonna be our motto. John? Let’s paint it above the door!” Conner emphatically raised his hands above over the doorway. His eyebrows were raised, and he chuckled proudly. John sipped his coffee.
“Nope, you know our motto. If no one else will take you, we will.”
Ethel
I saw her round silhouette at the double doors, groaned, and made my way over to her usual booth to clear it the way she liked. Eleven thirty, right on the dot. The heavy door swung open without much struggle (something that never failed to impress me about good ol’ Ethel) and she waddled in, with most of her weight unevenly balanced on her cane. A plume of salt and pepper hair rose above her head, and if it weren’t for the hair, I might have mistaken her for a plum. She was all decked out in purple today – it was a rather tacky choice for a woman who held herself so highly.
“Well hello!” She gave a toothy grin as if we were truly that excited to see her.
“Hey, Ethel, how are you?”
I prayed to God Rob was already on top of making her first cocktail. I really didn’t need to start off my morning listening to how she didn’t have her martini in front of her within the first ten seconds of her sitting down. I saw her examining the contents on the table, and briskly made my way to the bar to pick up her drink before anything could be said. Shit, Rob wasn’t there. I didn’t want to know how the martini-less Ethel felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking. I glanced over to her, and shrugged in response to her mouthing “Where the hell is my drink?” Rob burst through the kitchen door with a look on his face that told me that he knew damn well he should have had that drink ready by now. I gave him the best death stare I could muster up.
“Channel 36 please; and don’t forget to put the captions on for me.” At least she said “please”. Maybe I got lucky, maybe Rob put a little extra Absolut in that martini to calm her down today. She picked up the fork I laid out for her and shook it in my face, and pushed her nose a little higher in the air.
“Olivia, can you please get me a different fork? This one is bent.” Are you serious, lady? It’s a bar…ALL of our forks are bent.
“Sure, no biggie.”
I looked over six forks, and picked the best out of the selection and laid it down on her napkin. She promptly snatched it up and began scrutinizing it, bringing it as close to her glasses as she could.
“No, this one is still bent.”
I refused to make eye contact with her, spun around on my heels, and headed straight back for the kitchen to find the bar fork fit for a self-pronounced queen.
Midway through her weekly meal of filet mignon (do not call it a steak in front of her, by the way; that is one mistake you only make once with Ethel), I took a seat in the booth with her. I got the same story out of her that I had gotten many times before, and yet I still sat there, completely intrigued. “You know I came down here from Long Island several years ago, I wasn’t always from around here. My sister and I never got along, and for some reason, my mother always took her side. She would yell and scream at me – everything my sister ever did to me was my fault.” I filled in the blanks with her previous stories but coaxed more out of her. “What exactly would your sister do to you?”
“She’d steal every friggin’ thing I owned! She took my dolls when I was little, my clothes when I was older, my sanity when I was even older…what the hell else was there? And every time I went to my mother to tell on her so I could get my stuff back, my mother would holler at me and tell me that I should either let her take my things, or it was up to me to get it back. My mother also used to beat the living day lights out of me. It was absolutely intolerable!”
I never dared to ask about the father figure in that family, I figured that was a whole other can of worms.
I took a quick glance around to make sure no one else had come into the bar, and prompted her a little further. “So…how did you get out of there?”
“The same way anyone else gets out of hell – I packed up my shit and left! I moved to Long Island and struggled on my own. I left with three suitcases to start over. I got a job with a medical equipment company, worked from nine to five, and was as happy as a pig in mud in my own little studio apartment. The girls and I would go out on the town every weekend and have a blast getting drunk. My family found it absolutely despicable that I was running around as a single gal in Long Island. I never married, and I think they were always horrified over that.”
“How long did you stay up there for?”
“Oh, about thirty five - forty years. I moved back here about ten years ago.”
“Did you ever see your sister after all of that?”
“We attempted a relationship but that was short-lived. After we had our final fight, I’d catch her snooping around my yard, looking for me to start shit. She’d bang on my door until I had to call the cops – the crazy bitch.”
“Well hello!” She gave a toothy grin as if we were truly that excited to see her.
“Hey, Ethel, how are you?”
I prayed to God Rob was already on top of making her first cocktail. I really didn’t need to start off my morning listening to how she didn’t have her martini in front of her within the first ten seconds of her sitting down. I saw her examining the contents on the table, and briskly made my way to the bar to pick up her drink before anything could be said. Shit, Rob wasn’t there. I didn’t want to know how the martini-less Ethel felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking. I glanced over to her, and shrugged in response to her mouthing “Where the hell is my drink?” Rob burst through the kitchen door with a look on his face that told me that he knew damn well he should have had that drink ready by now. I gave him the best death stare I could muster up.
“Channel 36 please; and don’t forget to put the captions on for me.” At least she said “please”. Maybe I got lucky, maybe Rob put a little extra Absolut in that martini to calm her down today. She picked up the fork I laid out for her and shook it in my face, and pushed her nose a little higher in the air.
“Olivia, can you please get me a different fork? This one is bent.” Are you serious, lady? It’s a bar…ALL of our forks are bent.
“Sure, no biggie.”
I looked over six forks, and picked the best out of the selection and laid it down on her napkin. She promptly snatched it up and began scrutinizing it, bringing it as close to her glasses as she could.
“No, this one is still bent.”
I refused to make eye contact with her, spun around on my heels, and headed straight back for the kitchen to find the bar fork fit for a self-pronounced queen.
Midway through her weekly meal of filet mignon (do not call it a steak in front of her, by the way; that is one mistake you only make once with Ethel), I took a seat in the booth with her. I got the same story out of her that I had gotten many times before, and yet I still sat there, completely intrigued. “You know I came down here from Long Island several years ago, I wasn’t always from around here. My sister and I never got along, and for some reason, my mother always took her side. She would yell and scream at me – everything my sister ever did to me was my fault.” I filled in the blanks with her previous stories but coaxed more out of her. “What exactly would your sister do to you?”
“She’d steal every friggin’ thing I owned! She took my dolls when I was little, my clothes when I was older, my sanity when I was even older…what the hell else was there? And every time I went to my mother to tell on her so I could get my stuff back, my mother would holler at me and tell me that I should either let her take my things, or it was up to me to get it back. My mother also used to beat the living day lights out of me. It was absolutely intolerable!”
I never dared to ask about the father figure in that family, I figured that was a whole other can of worms.
I took a quick glance around to make sure no one else had come into the bar, and prompted her a little further. “So…how did you get out of there?”
“The same way anyone else gets out of hell – I packed up my shit and left! I moved to Long Island and struggled on my own. I left with three suitcases to start over. I got a job with a medical equipment company, worked from nine to five, and was as happy as a pig in mud in my own little studio apartment. The girls and I would go out on the town every weekend and have a blast getting drunk. My family found it absolutely despicable that I was running around as a single gal in Long Island. I never married, and I think they were always horrified over that.”
“How long did you stay up there for?”
“Oh, about thirty five - forty years. I moved back here about ten years ago.”
“Did you ever see your sister after all of that?”
“We attempted a relationship but that was short-lived. After we had our final fight, I’d catch her snooping around my yard, looking for me to start shit. She’d bang on my door until I had to call the cops – the crazy bitch.”
Conner's Karaoke Song
To close out this project, I would like to include Conner's song. I wish I had a video of everyone singing along, but I'm not exactly able to whip out my phone in the middle of a shift to record our staff epically singing along to Toto. No matter where I am or what I am doing, this song will always remind me of my second home and the second family that I have a few blocks away. I will always love you guys!
