The Bartender’s Life

I just want to take a moment to clarify what it is actually like to be a bartender. I can’t tell you how many times people tell me every week that being a bartender has some how made me some sort of jigalo that people tip tremendously because I pass drinks across a counter. To be honest, I am kind of sick of this and other stereotypes involving my chosen career. For the record, I am not an uneducated college dropout. I enjoy my job, and I choose to keep working behind a bar because I like the profession. The only reason I can’t work at a desk all day is because I couldn’t stand it. And, I’ve been dating the same wonderful girl for over five years. So forgive me for a moment, while I correct the misconceptions of some of tonight’s bar guests and countless others who continue to assume too much about a profession they don’t understand. If you’ve ever wondered what it is like to be a bartender professionally; here you go…

I think people make a ton of assumptions about bartenders because our jobs are seemingly visible. We work in front of an audience seated at the bar, and people observe what they think is someone getting paid to work at some sort of party every night. This is the story I usually get from Joe, a regular guy disappointed with his life choices, resulting career, and recent divorce:

“I bet people come from miles to try your Original Cocktail #975649. You probably make great money too because every person in this country wants to forego their IRA in this period of economic decline and drop you a picture of Benjamin Franklin. I bet all kinds of beautiful women from foreign lands find your magical drinks irresistible, and, long after abandoning any inhibitions, they wait for everyone to leave and seduce you right there on the bar top. They probably then take you home, and treat you like a king…with their roomates. Man, every night must be like this, and another group of these beauties will appear at dusk, unaware of your skill as a mixologist, but drawn in by some rumor of a mysterious love potion. You’re going to be famous; your recipe will be in all kinds of books and you can go on TV whenever you want. Why did I go to school when you’re here doing this? You could open a bar where only Original Cocktail #975649’s are served, and you do this until you retire. At which point, you will still make this drink in your house and people will still come over and tip you. Hey, that’s probably why you don’t need a retirement package right? I wish I could do all this and only work weekends. Maybe I should quit my day job.”

I can’t tell you how many times people have told me how lucky I am to be bartending and described the scenario above. It is ridiculous. Let’s put some accurate information about our profession out there for a change. To begin, nobody ever creates a drink that everyone likes. Women that wait for bartenders don’t result in an orgy with friends; they give herpes. I work more hours than 99% of the working population. Bartenders don’t generally make a ton of money, but if you put a few years in you can make just as much as your everyday suit. I can’t tell you how many bartenders I know who have a more extensive education than most, though we don’t use it to compare ourselves to others or justify preconceptions about others in alternative professions.

If you’re a bartender, your night usually ends in the following ways. Generally, you’re tired after a long, busy shift. The base of each of your pant legs is soaking wet from the water that finds its way on every back bar floor. You smell like beer, not because you spilled any on yourself, but simply because like any industrial job, you dealt with beer all night and it now permeates your clothing. You spend at least an hour after the last guest leaves trying to clean everything and reconcile the night’s deposit. Sure, you might have made some cash, but depending on how your bar distributes tips, you now have to tuck the money into your back jeans pocket and walk out the bar facing the empty streets, where you are the perfect target for someone trying to score some cash to feed their meth habits.

Your parents call occasionally to make sure you are doing alright because they never see you anymore, and they frequently ask when you are “going to put your degree to use and get a real job”. Guests frequently ask the same questions and leave business cards for you find them the next day so they can help you find a job at their company.

Professional bartenders actually live lives more like vampires than Fabio. The freaking bank is never open along with other stores, so you can’t get anything done that normal people accomplish on a daily basis. You have to fight the stockers at your local supermarket to get groceries. And, the only friends and family members you can talk to are the ones who are awake well past the last airing of Sportscenter, leaving crazy Uncle Joe and the people you just spent an eight hour shift with. Who, by the way, generally have an expectation for you to fill this lonely post shift existence by going out after the shift to a bar open later than yours or going over to someone’s house. If you choose to opt out of this unhealthy daily routine, your co-workers want to know what is wrong.

See, if you’re a bartender, you have to get used to everyone being concerned about you. Either, it is Mom worried about what you’re doing with your life, the barback wondering why you didn’t go out that night, or the guest who is trying to get a recruiting bonus at work. When, in all actuality, you’re doing just fine. You didn’t want to go to the city bar that offers and industry discount because you just had to do some freaking laundry.

Alright, there, I feel much better now.

For the record, I love my job. I keep doing it because I love talking to good people and making them drinks. So few people get to do something they enjoy for their career, and if I’m going to spend a quarter of my life working, I am going to have fun everyday. And, generally, I do. I’ve been doing this long enough now so I don’t have to put up with the frat boy or coke head who want their drinks quick and stiff anymore. I have some of the best regulars any bartender could ask for, and I get to work at a place where my owners and guests appreciate what I do. But every once in a while, I get that person who comes in and tries to treat me like a charity case. Save your time; help the homeless guy down the street.