Look ma, no training!

Bartender [bahr-ten-der] noun

1. a person who mixes and serves alcoholic drinks at a bar

For all intents and purposes, let me outline what a real bartender is for you. Yes, they make drinks and serve them to you. They also take your food orders, run your food, bus the tables, and cash you out. If it’s a gaming establishment, they closely monitor EACH AND EVERY PATRON for their play. They are constantly surveying the entire establishment, making sure you are not getting too drunk, are not already drunk, and then having to handle you if the situation occurs. They are the clean-up crew when you spill something or vomit all over. They are the bouncers when your mouth starts running. They’ve been spit on, attacked, violated, and threatened, sometimes all in one day.

Here are a couple things that separate you from them.

No, you’re not. No bartender in the history of bartenders has even gone into a place and announced to someone that that was their profession. You’re seeking validation. You’re searching for that camaraderie that can only be felt between two people who completely loathe the same person. Bartenders are part of a larger community called the service industry. IF someone was, in fact, a member of this band of brotherhood, that is the last thing that would come out of their mouth.

You just got out of your nightly class at ABC bartending school. You want to try some new cool drinks you learned. You and nine of your classmates go down to the local bar and order a series of stupid fucking drinks with a million parts. Some are rimmed. Some are layered. Now the bartender is pouring through Google trying to find the seven ingredients to make a Mongolian Mother. And while your bartender is doing that, he’s not able to monitor his bar or floor, isn’t engaging with others guests, who are undoubtedly more important than you. You’re literally taking money out of his/her pocket. No one wants to be a burden to a fellow comrade. Order a beer or a Jack/coke and sit the fuck down.

You’re greedy for information. You’re too friendly. You’re wasting valuable time and mental clarity bombarding them with minute details. Bartenders are naturally guarded and rightfully so. It’s not appropriate to ask them fifty fucking questions, especially while they’re working. If you were really a bartender, you’d know that although they’re taking someone’s drink order, they still haven’t rang in the food for table 15 (that they didn’t write on a scratch pad), have to cash out 29, and 5 needs a side of BBQ sauce. The bank is also out of change, and the printer needs paper. Don’t ask them how they started bartending, do they like it, and how much they make.

After the barrage of dumb drinks and stupid questions, you leave anything less than 40-50%. Does that sound like too much? You’re not a bartender then. You order your first drink and you drop a $20, general rule. That is the international sign of respect. That is how you tell someone which direction this exchange is going to go without a single word. This is the trade secret. You do a bunch of extra shit and require real work? That’s a automatic 50%. Here’s why. A tip is To Insure Prompt Service. A gratuity is after the fact, to show your appreciation for their hard work and customer service. If you know how hard they work and what they’re putting up with on a daily basis, it feels good to give another person that much. That is what real camaraderie is.

In this case, you are, in fact, a bartender. The job application said bartender. You most likely work at Chili’s or Applebee’s or some other family restaurant with delicious fajitas. You just make drinks and that’s ok. You measure 6 oz. of wine and make a few specialty cocktails. You are still not a bartender. Las Vegas bartenders are a brand all their own, and nowhere else in the world is quite the same. I’m referring to 24 hour, full service, run-your-ass-off-without-a-break bartenders. They are bouncer, busser, server bartenders. Shit, some even cook your chicken tendies for you when the kitchens closed. They are the heroes holding this great city, and nation, together. You don’t have the responsibility of 50 drunks and thousands of dollars; you are simply not cut from the same cloth yet. One day maybe, but today you’re simply slanging margaritas. Don’t embarrass yourself and make the correlation between the two.