And For My Sins, They Gave Me One

I’m not gonna lie. I did not like St. Patrick’s Day. The funny thing is that I was actually looking forward to it. Since it’s the super bowl of alcoholism and pushing booze is my occupation, I figured it would be good times. I was wrong. It wasn’t all bad. The first few hours were alright. Let me rephrase that. The first few minutes were sheer terror, then the next few hours were alright, then there was a couple of hours of never wanting to set foot in a bar again, followed by the slow climb out of hell with my second wind and ending with sheer giddiness.

I got to work an hour and a half early. I know being early is a compulsion, but when it’s a really big event like St. Patrick’s Day, I can’t sit at home. I get super anxious about the coming storm and I feel as long as I can watch it for an hour, then I can ease into it better. I had lunch at Barney’s with my girl, Erica, then hopped on the Tide to work. Last year, I rode my bike and when I passed by Finn McCool’s I saw that it was dead. I thought, bad sign. Then I got to O’ Brien’s, which was over capacity, and realized, so this is where everyone is. That was last year. When I arrived this year, I expected a similar crowd. I was disappointed to say the least. I ran into my old boss, who having been out of the bar business for six months seems to have lost his tolerance for alcohol, because he was annihilated. We had coffee together, I watched him sway a bit, then it was time to work.

The first thing I learned about our computer system is that there is one button you never press. When you cash out a register it offers you to clear the totals, which you press “no.” Since Kimi and Stewart were done, I deleted their comps, transferred some checks and ran their cash out reports. For some reason, maybe my therapist can explain it, when given the option to clear out the totals I pressed “yes.” I won’t say that I took it well. In fact, I began to scream and shake. I was apoplectic. It’s the biggest day of the year and I reset the sales. Personally, I don’t know why there’s a nuclear option on our system. In any case, Aoife and Kimi came over trying to figure out what happened. I tried to explain while also trying to breathe. They and Kevin were great and said it would be okay. I called Nicole over who ran a cash out report and hers came out fine. Phew. I probably lost a couple of months of my life from my two minute fit (not that I want to live forever) but I got back into the groove. I was bouncing around waiting for customers to order drinks. The first check presenter I picked up off the bar, I saw that the customer left us “0” on twenty-one dollars. Now I try and give customers the benefit of the doubt. I asked Tim and Aoife if she left cash. No. I called her over and said, “Zero? You’re stiffing us on St. Patrick’s Day?” Customers, believe you, me, St. Patrick’s Day is not the time to start fucking with a bartender. It may take a couple of hours, but demand for my time will far outstrip supply. She wasn’t the only customer I had to set straight. One guy held out a brown fiver and said, “Is a bottle of Bud Light, five bucks?” I replied, “It is without tip.” I had a couple of regulars wring a buck out of this guy. It’s nice when customers have your back.

Our staffing was different this year. Yesterday was the first time we had four bartenders behind the bar. Since four to nine is the busiest time, Nicole decided that it was better to be overstaffed than overwhelmed. I couldn’t figure out if it just wasn’t busy during this time or if having the extra bartender was exponentially more efficient. I’ll just say this, from nine to two it was busy and I missed having a fourth pair of hands. I don’t know when it happened but I started to lose it. I decided to order some food, which helped a little. Then I had a small shot of Jameson which helped, but I was still feeling like shit. During this time, the only fight of the night broke out. Carlton, a regular, who is black, was closing out his tab. He and another guy were having words. I don’t know how it started but there was mention of taking it outside. Then in a flash, Carlton turned and clocked him. The guy went down and his buddy tried to grab a hold of him. People immediately broke it up. Although I had a front row seat, I had no idea that Carlton decked this guy for a reason. Turns out the guy called him a “nigger.” Some people say you should never utter this word. I say go for it, just don’t expect to live very long after you say it. I was happy to see Carlton pop this guy, but was ecstatic today when I found out why.

During my ten hours I peed four times. It was the third time that I went out front (not to pee, but to go upstairs and pee) and saw that there was still a line to get in. Last year we got hit early and it died. This year I realized it would not end. Now this sense of eternal damnation to making drinks for drunken amateurs did not help my general well being, but I got my second wind some time around eleven. I don’t know what changed. Some how I got a surge of adrenaline and that carried me through the next three hours. Around twelve-thirty I poured myself a Guinness and it was perhaps the best beer I’ve ever had in my life. I rang the last call bell a few minutes early and the bar was cleared soon there after. It was finally over.

Counting the money took forever. It still isn’t clear how my end of days button press affected our totals, but I’ll find out today. When we finally counted our tips, I decided it wasn’t worth it. I’m all about making money, but given the choice I would’ve let someone else have my shift. I don’t know what makes St. Patrick’s Day so difficult. Maybe it’s all the amateurs or maybe it’s just sheer volume, but it’s not a lot of fun. Hopefully, writing this post will remind me of my disdain for the day and prepare me better next year. I was excited for this year’s St. Patrick’s Day, I wanted to work, the only place I cared to be was behind the bar. Be careful what you wish for. After it was over, all I could think of was Willard’s quote in Apocalypse Now, “I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one.”