your achilles? sorry 'bout that. but, hey, whats a barback to do?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

yeah, sorry 'bout your achilles tendon. but the club is loud, and you didn’t hear me say “excuse me” the first three times. and you are pretty hammed, so it’s not like you would’ve moved outta my way without that prodding. i mean, last time i came through this way, you just stared blankly at me, and refused to budge an inch, even though you could plainly see i’m carrying three cases of beer (or the time before that, when i was carrying two stacks of rocks and a stack of shots,) heading towards the bar directly behind you. this time you had your back to me, and you weren’t listening, or just couldn’t hear. so i stepped on your achilles tendon. and you moved, and i got my job done.

it’s just a small part of what i got to do to survive.

hey you over there - mr. open shirt with the gold chains and the bruised shin - i’m sorry, but you were standing in front of the kitchen door. and man, i didn’t want to kick you to get you out of the way, but one can only ask politely so many times, especially when carrying two full busbins over ones head. i mean these things are heavy. and, just so ya know, if i have to drop one, it ain’t landing on me. hint. hint.

oh, cute girl with the sore forehead - it was your own fault. completely. i mean, you just walked into the corner of my bin. i know it makes a cool sound when you do that, and i chuckle a little, but please, please, remember that a bin full of glass & ice & etc weighs around thirty pounds. plus, i’m moving forward with it, and well, it’s locked into my shoulder; and if it’s a two or three bin stack, that’s sixty to ninety pounds about to come into contact with you. so you best keep an eye open next time, cause i can’t maneuver all that fast around you when you pop outta the crowd, especially when the bins are really loaded.

but dude with the grabby hands - when i’m trying to bring more bottles to my bars, even if they are stuffed into the cases i’m carrying, and my pockets, if you try to grab for one, feel lucky that you only got tossed outta the club head first by the largest bouncer available. it could be worse. you mighta had your head smashed into a pillar or two on the way out, and it’s only the calm reasonableness of your buddy that kept you from being banned permanently.

yeah, i got a comment for you as well, mr. & mrs. can’t-stop-dancing-no-matter-what; someone dropped a drink - there’s broken glass on the floor all around you, and i’m just trying to sweep it up, so nobody falls on it and gets cut, and we don’t get sued and have to close down. just back the fuck up for a few seconds, let me clean up the mess that neither of us created, and you can go back to that funky thing you were grooving on or whatever you are calling it these days.

and lastly, cougs, i mean the flirting is cool, and i know it’s why you tip so well, and i try to give you every spare second i have, but seriously - the next time you even try to tickle my armpit when i’m carrying thirty pounds of glass over my head, it’s landing on your head. what you are doing is dangerous, and i guarantee it, the first person to be hurt by it will be you. i really don’t get paid enough for that kinda shit.

p.s. to all bar patrons/clubgoers - the barflap is where i come & go from on a very regular basis. and i’m most often carrying something essential to your enjoyment of the evening; whether it’s more booze or glass in for the bar, or glassware out to get cleaned (and moved back to be refilled for your drinking enjoyment.) it is a very poor choice of location for you to hang out there. you ever wonder why it takes the bartender so long to get to you when you lean over the flap, no matter how well you’ve been tipping? it’s because (s)he doesn’t want you to hang out there. and if you are dumb enough to be leaning over the flap without an arm on it to guard you, i will raise it right into your chin without a second thought. the brass bar in front of the flap is there for a reason. it means “don’t hang out past here!” and we are not joking.

please, please, please people, obey these simple club rules, have a great night, and come again. we want your business. we just don’t want you fucking with ours.

2

This was weak; kinda sounded like it could be a diary entry.

3

whooops, this was meant for the mundane & pointless forum.

mods? please & thanks.

and stupid me for running too many tabs while i composed this crap.

4

OK, so moved.

Lynn
For the Straight Dope

5

Kinda funny how this is a concern, but all the (necessary) ass-kicking you bring on isn’t.

But yeah, to an extent, I feel your pain. Last bar I was at (Delerium, for you Mission types), I realized what I really needed was Fezzik, so he could above everyone and yell, “Everybody, MOVE!!!” I was following two guys towards the back, and they both stopped in the middle of the “lane.” One guy heading the other way was trying to get by and was also trapped. He kept trying to explain that they needed to move, but was met with “Well, move then!” These guys weren’t very bright. I finally yelled “Someone move the fuck that way right now!” They seemed to get it.

I hate Delerium.

6

Geez, no wonder barbacks like me so much. I’m apparently one of those rare types that can spot them moving thorugh the mob in a determined fashion and get out of their way, or gently pull someone else out of their way.

And, more than once, I’ve told someone that they’d have better luck by finding that spot on the bar with the two brass rails and find the line of people extending out from it and getting into that line.

7

Hmph, learn something new every day! Course, I haven’t been in a bar in that way in a good 10 years. :frowning: But heck, here’s one less guy that’ll do that in the future.

8

and geeez, folks, i know it’s a private party, but that’s no reason to treat the bar staff like shit. the bartenders & barbacks are still just doing their jobs - i mean we are paid as if it’s a regular club night; if you got ten drink tickets in your hand when you walk in the door, you should still be tipping all night. i mean, your company paid for your booze, you should at least show a little appreciation to the folks who took care of you all night.

and please, please, don’t get all lippy with the backs & doormen, even though your boss paid for your drinks. you are still gonna get thrown outta the place head first if you do. we have a liquor licence we would like to keep.

and dude, “smoking room” means the the room you can smoke in. don’t try to smoke outside that room. there are not only the non-smokers you work with worried about this, but the employees of the establishment that do not want to get shut down over your licence violation to think about.

c’mon. just be freakin reasonable about that kind of shit.

and man, just use common sense. treat the club as if it’s your friends house - i mean, you wouldn’t just smash an empty glass on the floor there, would you? or at your own house? (and if you would - remember, the establishment at which you are drinking is not one of those kind of places.)

and please, above all, remember that the guys cleaning up shit are on your side – they are moving glassware to be cleaned, and then refilled.

and it’s a nightclub, so if we are short on red or white wine glasses, or martini’s, bear with us. we are trying our hardest to make it happen for you. we don’t usually sell that much wine or 'tinis - i mean, it is a night club.

fuckin’ suck it up, and drink your errazuraz from a fuckin tarapaca glass. what? is it gonna kill you? if it does, i hope to be laughing at your grave. you fucking sick piece of shit. this is a night club you rented out, not a w(h)ine bar.

and just to be clear, walking around, barking orders, pretending you own the place, it isn’t going over well with the actual owner, who is hanging out over there, in the other corner. he can see you, and he’s not gonna give your company such a great deal next year, thanks to you. ya you. you fucking douchebag.

you just earned yourself a lost deposit, and a cancelled christmas party, for not being able to control your people. so ya. take that and and suck it, ya fucking whatever we can fit down you whore-sized throat.

and just wait till the caterers get you for the glasswear of theirs you broke.

your $175,000.00 (prepaid) tab ain’t coming close, bitch. it’ll be more like $250,000.00 if you are lucky.

and you best count yourself lucky, 'cause us 'backs gave your kids some wicked slack tonight.

and fifty other reasons why i hate woking private parties. the fucking fucknut bastards.

9

dudes, if you were at the party tonight, you’d know how it’s done.

it shouldn’t take an industry night to show how respect is given to the tenders & backs.

400 people, and not a drink spilled, not a miplaced napkin, and we all got hammed. i mean, it’s taking me several many minutes too long to write this message, despite the fact i have more than a couple too many drinks in me. but hey, whats that on your shoe? nothing. thats what. we kept the place spic & span cause we know. we have respect.

so bargoers geez man, stop being idiots. its just better fo everyone. and i gotsta go now… a btender is pulling me away from the computer, i gotta be the lovermasn or somehting now. so ya. take it cool and easy folks. it’ll help[ you in the long run. but please, keep rock rockin on!