TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | JUNE 2017 25 By Alaina Loughridge BARTENDERS ARE HUMAN TOO Bar Chronicles is usually reserved for bartenders who want to vent about their hatred for their customers anonymously. So you can understand that’s why I began the article, because those that know me know that I, more than anyone, appreciate a good venting of the spleen in an f bomb dropping orgasmo of hatred of those that have done pissed me off, all the while doing it under the cover of someone else. Ah, anonymity. While I still love that little undercover scene and will continue to use it at will, it is time to fess up. Bartenders aren’t perfect. Even super-human, bionic, amazing Marvel characters error now and again. So, here are three stories (all three errors that I could get any one of us to admit to) that I may or may not have been at the center of… ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ and obnoxious ladies hanging out at the bar. The day shift bartender had cashed them out and was in the back doing the money and paperwork. I was out front prepping for another wonderful evening when the loudest and drunkest of them all hollered out that she needed another cocktail. I said, “No problem, what are you drinking?” She said, “Well hell, I don’t remember! Go ask the other bartender.” So I went back to the office and said, “Do you remember what the drunk bitch at the table was drinking?” The day shift bartender looked up at me and said, “Oh, you mean my mom?” I damn near died. ���� ���� �������� ���������������� �������������� ������������ ������ �������������� �������� ���������� �������������� �������� �������������� �������� My bar is 21 and over, so I asked him if he was lost and looking for his mother. Hey, I have a heart too and I don’t want a child wondering about alone. The little boy looked up at me and said, “Look lady, I am a 40 year old woman and I would appreciate a little respect.” No words to say there. ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������“Hey, how are you doing and have a seat wherever you would like.” So, this guy walked in and I said my spiel. He did not respond AT ALL. No eye contact, no head swivel of acknowledgement of any kind, nada. He kept cruising down the bar and, me being me, said, “Well, I am good too! Thanks for asking!” The guy turned to me and patted his ears and mouth with his hands. He was deaf and mute. I wish I could have died right there. So, yes. Bartenders are human too. However, you didn’t hear it from me. If you tell anyone I told you these tales of woe, I will deny it.
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