I’ll Never Do That Again (yeah right?!?)

Stop me if you have heard this story before, as I am sure something similar happens somewhere every week.

I am not a big drinker, never really have been, don’t get me wrong, I am no saint. I spent five years at boarding school, and six away at university, not to mention the influence of the industry I work in. Most of us unwind with a drink or two after work, and we do not always stop after one. Before Saturday night, I would have been hard pressed to recall the last time I was truly drunk. Saturday night was different.

Saturday night my sister, Susan, held a surprise 40th birthday party for her husband, Mark. Mark is a firefighter and a dedicated father of three, but he is also a former high school quarterback, get him together with his buddies and the man can party like a rock star.

I spent a good part of the day helping Susan set up for the party. She did a good job of getting him out of the house, telling him his present was arriving sometime that day, but that they could not give her a specific time. When you think about it, she was being completely honest. His present was the party, and in truth she did not know how long it would take to set up. She rented a dance floor that Luke (my other brother-in-law) and I put together in the living room after we moved all the furniture to the garage. Luke then set up the stereo with an old set of speakers I lent Susan for the occasion (more on that latter). She even rented a tent that we set up outside the sliding doors at the back of the house, to serve as the bar area. Luke managed to secure a keg and Susan was able to keep everything out of Mark’s way by storing everything at our mother’s house.

Susan had arranged the surprise well in advance, and everyone did a great job of keeping Mark in the dark. Anticipating the copious amounts of alcoholic beverages that everyone was likely to consume, Susan had arranged for people to take cabs or stay over at friends and relatives in the neighborhood. No need to worry about drinking and driving, and perhaps this goes a long way to explaining my behavior.

By the time I arrived at 11:30pm, there was still a good crowd and everyone was in full drunken party mode. One of these days I will sit down and tell you about the restaurant I worked at after I graduated from university. It was a great place to work and I made some good friends while I was there. Ivan was a career server and supplemented his income with a woodworking shop he had set up in his garage. He was married with three children, and a typical maritimer. That is to say, he could drink like a fish and had a very high tolerance for alcohol. Ivan had some great expressions, some of which I have adopted myself. For example, every time we sat down for a beer he would follow the first mouthful with a satisfied sigh and proclaim; “that tastes like more.”

Saturday night that first taste of draught tasted exactly like more, and more, and well you get the idea. By the time I left to walk home, somewhere around 3:00am I was officially three sheets to the wind, feeling no pain, juiced, laced, stewed, totaled, and generally !@#$%^ up. Susan went with an 80’s theme, and everyone really got into the spirit of the occasion, great music and great people. Speaking of music, do you remember those speakers I lent to Susan for the party? Well I only have one now. If you have never experienced a blown speaker let me tell you I am certain it is better to be a little out of it. First the foam around the woofer blew across the room. This was followed by a loud whoop and column gossamer smoke rose from within the wood box. You are probably thinking this signaled the end of the party. Hey not so fast. A little thing like a blown speaker is not about to slow down this crowd. Out comes an ipod and portable speaker system and we barley skipped a beat.

Getting out of bed the next morning was an adventure. In fact, I had to attempt the maneuver twice. The first effort left me feeling dazed and confused. Fortunately I was able to sit back down before falling head first into the bedside table. How ironic would that be, walk home safely in a drunken stupor, only to get myself injured crawling out of bed the next morning?

I wandered downstairs for breakfast, washed two Advil down with a bottle of Gatorade (the only real hangover cure) and then drew myself a long hot bath to sooth my full body aches. Feeling much better, I crawled back into bed and called a friend for comfort and support. I received none, not that I really deserved or expected any, but a man can hope can’t he?

Mid day was fast approaching, so I had four hours to get myself in some kind of condition to work that night. It was at this time I first thought, “I’ll never do that again.” I took a small amount of solace from the fact that both Mark and Luke were apparently in much worse shape than I. Unfortunately, in this case solace did not cure my headache. I spent most of the day in bed.

Sunday was a complete write off and fortuitously the restaurant was slow. Not sure I could have handled a busy night. Fortunately I have been serving long enough that I could do it in my sleep, a fact some of my guests that night can attest to I am sure. The ribbing I took from the rest of the staff was well deserved and in some ways kept my spirits up. Sunday’s we close early, for which I was extremely thankful. I stumbled through the front door, no longer suffering from a hangover, but exhausted and in need of sleep. Once the front door was closed I made a beeline for my bed. Oh how I longed for sleep. I swear, “I’ll never do that again.”

The Barman

Bad Timing

I raised the subject of bad timing not that long ago and I have some further observations on the subject. As I recall, the subject of bad timing came up previously with regard to Tweedledum and the issue of inventory. While I could spend a great deal of time ranting about inventory, and I will at some point, it has become clear to me that Tweedledum suffers from bad timing and a sever lack of judgment.

A few weeks back, on a very busy Saturday night I was bar-tending as I often do. Things started out poorly and went downhill from there. I had no bar back, no cocktailer and quickly ended up deep in the weeds, with all four booths filled, all five high-tops, about 10 people at the rail (or wood), and service chits a mile long. In desperate need of help, I asked a server to get the MOD to take care of service. Mary came to my rescue and was working her way through the chits, when Tweedledum decided now would be a perfect time to talk about next weeks schedule. They get into a protracted conversation, meanwhile the printer continues to spew drink orders like it’s the fountain of youth and a bus load of blue hairs have just arrived. Pure chaos, but Tweedledum is oblivious to the immediacy of the situation.

As I come back to the bar to close a few tables she is blocking my entrance to the bar and is unaware of my presence. My first instinct is to scream at her about the need to serve guests and to focus on the here and now, not what’s going to happen next Sunday afternoon. I hold my tongue, actually I almost bit through it, but that’s not important. Eventually the rest of our staff arrives and sometime near closing time I finally emerge from the weeds.

Talking to our executive chef Jack at the end of the night reveals the depths Tweedledum will go to in order to demonstrate her skills in the area of timing and judgment. The incident at the bar took place around 5:15pm and was in part due to an unexpected early rush. Jack informs me that at about 6:00pm Tweedledum jumped on line and started to make her self dinner. We are in no way through the rush, the board is full of chits and we are on a 30 to 40 minute wait. Is there a better time for the owner to jump on line and start her own meal? I mean really, you supposedly worked as a bartender, and it does not take a genius to figure out when the store is busy. Or maybe I have not given my fellow servers and cooks the credit they deserve. Perhaps it does take a genius and we are all in the wrong line of work. Perhaps the solution to the world’s problems can be solved by the servers, bartenders and chefs of the world. Wow, what a concept. Then again, perhaps I have given Tweedledum too much credit.

You might think this was enough when it comes to the subject of bad timing, but alas I have one more story. It has become a regular practice of the Tweedles, to entertain friends and family at the restaurant. On a theoretical level I am perfectly fine with this. The demands of owning a restaurant make it very difficult to have a social life and we are by nature social beings, so why not. In fact, as guests, they are low maintenance; they tip very well, and then comp everything, so you don’t have to tip out.

As you may have guessed the issue is with timing. For some reason they do not feel the need to wait until after the rush to entertain, and more often than not, sit down on Friday or Saturday night the second we get on a wait. I drove our Head Chef home the other night and we talked about this phenomenon. He informed me that at first it pissed him off, but that he no longer lets it get to him. He simply places their order in line with the others just like any other table, and if the board is really full, he puts them last.

All this simply demonstrates the truth of life in the hospitality biz. When it comes right down to it, the inmates run the asylum.

I am fascinated with their inability to get it. I suppose it just demonstrates one of my theories on life. You see, the problem with common sense is that it is not really all that common.

Until next time,

The Barman

Just a Note

If there is anyone out there who started to follow this blog I owe you an apology. I have been distracted lately and have neglected the blog. I have renewed my commitment to writing and will be posting consistently from now on.

I have added one new feature to the site however. I am an avid reader and have decided to add a list of the books I have read most recently. If you have comments or would like to know more about a particular book let me know.

The Barman