Here’s one of my favorite bar stories: A guy, maybe mid-twenties, strides into the bar and tosses a wad of bills on the bar. The only other customers at the time were three men in their forties, sitting together. The kid says, “Keep my glass full, get yourself one and get a drink for those old guys at the end, if they can handle it.” Those ‘old guys’ didn’t really appreciate being called ‘old’ I guess because they started sending this kid shots of bourbon and had me pour them equivalent shots of iced-tea that looked like bourbon. They just kept pouring them on and this kid kept pounding them back and telling them how he was going to drink them under the table. About ten shots and thirty minutes later, the kid was passed out in a cab, with just enough money to get home. Then we all had a drink on him. I guess there is something to be said for age and wisdom. Never mess with an old dog when you don’t know any tricks.

I’ve got a great drinking trick I saw a guy pull on another one night a few years back and I’ve made some good money from it. The bet is that you can drink two glasses of beer before the other person drinks five shot glasses of beer. The only catch is that you can’t touch each other’s glasses. Here’s the trick: Say go, pound back one glass and turn it upside down and place it over one of the full shot glasses. Then, take your money, kick back and enjoy your second drink. Try not to gloat, some people like to fight after being duped.

Anyone else out there have any good tricks to share? It’s a good way to make extra money or at least to entertain yourself.

Now, a quick shout out to the bar owners. I’m not talking about the chain restaurant bars where the owner never shows up; I’m talking about the real bars where that bastard (or cool dude as it may be) shows up everyday to count money and chew ass. I’ve worked for both and I’m going to have to go with the owner who still has some hands on and some sense left. Let’s face it: owning a bar is the #1 fantasy of men under 30 and the #2 fantasy for those over 30. Lot’s of misconceptions here. First off, there are two types of bar owners: those whose profits go into cute chicks, fair-weather friends, and themselves AND those who don’t go broke in two years. You can mix and match but you’d better have your shit together. You’ve gotta run a bar like you know you can get laid. If not, you’re busted, broke and will never get laid again. Owning a bar is for the weak and stupid or the drunk and brave. Every bar owner drinks; they just don’t all drink their mortgage. Thus, I have to give a shout out to those who have managed to make a fucking living in the roughest business in America (other than madam of cheap whore house and sometimes---what’s the fucking difference?).

That being said, we’ve all worked for bad asses and fucking weasel fucks. You know the difference on day one and you work accordingly. Like I said before, I’m here for the tips. There has got to be an equation (and I’d like to see someone better at math than I am figure it out) that shows the ratio to bullshit a bartender will take from their boss before purposefully breaking glasses on the floor and throwing the door key at their head hoping to hit an unguarded eyeball. That doesn’t even include the bullshit we take from customers but that’s not the point right now. We all have our price but we all have our dignity too. If our boss has our back, our dignity can hold out a bit longer.

If you find yourself ready to complete that ultimate male fantasy and buy a bar one day, here’s some advice: Marry it. Work that bar everyday for five years. Don’t drink. Save every penny. Sell it after five years and get into something that will keep your liver and sanity intact. That’s just my opinion and my plan someday.

I am convinced that every facet of human existence is alive in a bar. Every facet of human drama is shown each and every night within its confined spaces. A bar is humankind, whole and incomplete within their triumphs and defeats. And we, as the bartenders of the world, have to soberly see it all (unless the boss is gone or allows us to get a good buzz through the whole mess). Every bar/restaurant is a mini-soap opera complete with every type of character you can imagine (some even have the evil twin). And every bar has its regulars. A regular is basically someone who feels comfortable getting drunk in your bar every day. Many regulars are cool but some you just tolerate and move on down the bar to talk to the tourists. Sometimes you just want to pour drinks in silence or turn up the tunes and plow through the day.

One thing that has always blown me away is how quickly people open up after a few drinks and spill their life story all over you like they were on day TV. I’ve met a few people who could’ve done a week on Montel by themselves. Be careful what you say to your bartenders folks—it could end up on a blog somewhere.

I’ve never ‘blogged’ before but I’ve bartended a lot. I figured this might be a good place to toss some bartending stories around. I’ve bartended for over 8 years and the last 4 of those on Venice Beach—one of the craziest places on this particular planet. I won’t say what bar because I’d like to keep my job and I’d also like to be honest on this blog; I work for tips—just like the rest of you.

A bartender in general is a cheap therapist, a keeper of the peace, the settler of disputes, an adult baby-sitter, and the guy (or gal) who ultimately controls the alcohol supply and the remote control: a very powerful figure to say the least.

We also make some decent cake (always got cash in the pocket), drink the good shit for free (when the owner ain’t around), and have a reason to talk to all the hot chicks that roll through that door. You can also meet some pretty cool people and make some good connections. That’s all balanced out though because when some drunken moron decides he wants to start shit with some other knucklehead, you’re the guy that goes in first.

Anyway, this place where I work in Venice is right down on the boardwalk. Something like seven or eight thousand tourists a day decide to come to this human zoo. It’s nuts. The people who make their living on the boardwalk are the craziest displays by far. There’s everything from great artists and musicians to other people that you just can’t figure out what the fuck they’re doing or why the fuck they’re doing it. There’s actually a guy in a speedo who stands around juggling ONE ball. He keeps a fishbowl for tips and if you take his picture, you’d better deposit some jack, Jack.

All right…I need to get back on track. I guess what I’m trying to say is that bartender’s always have the best stories. I’ve been collecting mine and I’ll be sharing some from time to time here.

I’d love to have comments or other members of the Bartending Brother/Sister Hood write some of their experiences. Especially any who’ve ever worked Venice.