Royally Bored

The shifts are increasingly quieter these days, but the staff finds ways of having fun to keep up morale.

Yesterday involved a fancy-hat theme in honor of the royal wedding that all day had been the buzz of celebrity, style and gossip writers/reporters/bloggers worldwide and people in general who are under the impression that their opinions posted via Facebook have clout. The idea---dreamed up by our head waitress--- reminded me a bit of a gimmicky spirit day in high school, but won over even the most disgruntled of customers. Everyone loved it.

A slow day, but a fun day. Tonight I'm crossing my fingers for both high spirits and high volume---is it too much to ask for both?

The Terrible Tuesdays

Tuesdays are both the grossest and lowest grossing day of my work week.

Case and point: The guy who couldn't say a sentence without garnishing it with a profanity nor speak at a reasonable amount of decibels. His friends apologized, but apparently their apology was preemptive of their super sub-par tipping. Thanks for nothing. Oh wait, you did make my night worse, so thanks for that. And yes, I am being sarcastic.

Taking a Shot at Easter

This year marked the third Easter in a row that I've spent working in a bar. No matter the weather, it's always painfully slow, and today was no exception. The most productive thing I did was create a display of fake drink specials involving the Easter candy our manager had put out for customers. It was a lot like a dessert tray except that it was pretty much a given that no one would be interested. Oh, wait... it was exactly like a dessert tray.

It all started with "The 'Peep'le Pleaser" which evolved from the entertaining idea of simply using the chick-shaped marshmallow Peeps as a drink garnish. We later decided that "The 'Peep'le Pleaser" was nothing more than a shot of Rumplemintz with a blue Peep shoved onto the rim of the glass.

When we discovered that we also had purple Peeps available to us, the idea for the next shot was instantaneous---"The Purple 'Peep'le Eater." Basically it was a Purple Hooter shot with a purple Peep predictably serving as the garnish.

We started to realize that we were failing to incorporate the wide variety of candy we had at our disposal, so the next shot involved a Reese's peanut butter and chocolate candy molded into an Easter bunny straddling a shot of expresso-flavored vodka. To add a little more to it, we also threw a couple of candy eggs in there. The given title of "Hop On It" nicely conveyed the sexual undertones we were going for.

Of course no one took us up on these "special" offerings, but it sure did make five hours go by a hell of a lot faster. Oh, and did I mention that at the end of my shift I filled a 10-inch hallow chocolate Easter bunny with Guinness and proceeded to drink out of it? Oh, well I did.

Happy Easter.

I Traveled Back In Time Last Night

The topic for my first entry presented itself most unwelcomely immediately upon my arrival to work yesterday. Little did I know that the blinking red light at the last intersection I cross on my route to work cruelly foreshadowed the lack of power that extended to include the bar. Had I recognized the warning, I might have just turned back then.

This is something that I've only had to deal with maybe a few times in my six years in the service industry, and while I consider myself a seasoned pro in the biz, I am notorious among my coworkers for being the first to lose my cool in these conditions. Why? Because the jaded self-proclaimed "beer connoisseurs" of Dallas do not care if a power loss means you have to do the same job harder which thus, takes longer; they are far from compassionate and anything but patient in these situations. So during these shifts, my tips suffer, my spirit dies and the phrase "fuck my life" runs through my head repeatedly.

Several people leave due to our limited menu, then we lose draught beers to heat. Half of the computers come back up---a much appreciated miracle---but all in all, the shift predictably proved tiresome and unrewarding.

The quaint and simple ways of the 1950s have no place in the fast-paced modern Metroplex. Sure, our reliance on computers can always be criticized with the hypocritical statement of "the world managed without them before." And yeah, it did. But waitresses in the 1950s weren't averaging $1500 sales on weekends.

My sister works the day shift today and just sent a text to let me know that the power is back on. It's a good thing too because I'm not sure my will could withstand another trip back to the past tonight.

Back to the Ol' Grind

I should've done this a long time ago, but I'll just start now.

My name is Savannah, and I am a cocktail waitress at a bar in Dallas. This line of work generates some spectacular stories, but most are expressed in petty complaints to co-workers and then quickly forgotten.

You would not believe some of the stuff people do in bars. You wouldn't know because I am assuming that you are one of those stand-up people, the ones who can civilly have a few, pay the bill without contest and be responsible enough to find the safest way home---not the ones breaking pool cues on a punching bag, slitting his best friend's throat with a broken bottle or hiding in the bathroom till after close to strangle the guy who tried to calm him down (all true stories).

I go to work the Friday night shift in two hours, and today will mark the first day of many where I will be chronicling my misadventures in this crazy job. To remain sane, I have to remind myself daily, "you'll get out of this, that's why you're going to college." It doesn't always work, but maybe this will help.