Bring your own booze
Bruce is off this week, so feel free to go to his house and steal stuff. This encore column is from 2000.
In the last year, I've been doing a little bartending at a certain restaurant/bar in downtown Reno. I started out as a pretty piss-poor excuse for a barkeep, and I haven't improved a whole lot. In fact, I've firmly established myself as one of the truly awful bartenders in the Truckee Meadows, awful enough to inspire a customer, after watching me in action for about 10 minutes, to remark, “You must own this place.”
I'd like to share some of my secrets that have enabled me to irritate the bejesus out of a few of Reno's most dedicated barflys.
1. If the drink involves complex ingredients and preparation, try to talk the customer out of it. I've developed a handy little facial tic that fires off involuntarily any time I get an order for anything trickier than wine. It's a quick little flinch that conveys to the customer, “Hey, I'm back here trying to daydream and you want some major production!” Whenever someone orders a blended Margarita, for example. I immediately try to talk her into having it on the rocks, implying that only louts who just fell off the pumpkin truck order tequila-laced slurpees. It never works, and I always end up blending the damn Margarita, but at least I've started an argument.
2. Get involved in conversations at one end of the bar so as to ignore the slobs with empty glasses at the other end. It's really rude to break off a nice conversation when it's in mid-stream. I like chats to have some kind of closure. So, if your glass is empty, spare me the pained look of thirst. I'll get there in a sec. And please, don't knock your tumbler over, or some other kind of sophomoric hissy fit. That kind of stuff doesn't make me move any faster. If anything, it makes me check the pepper spray in my pocket.
3. Have a useless bartender’s recipe book on hand. As a rookie in the bartending racket, I have come to value the aid and comfort supplied by a solid bartending guide. I wish I had one. The feeble pamphlet that's backing me up at our bar is infamous for being stumped at critical times. One night, I got an order for a vodka gimlet. Right off, I knew vodka was gonna be in there, probably a snort of something citrusy, and maybe a splash of something weird. When in doubt, check the book. No gimlet recipe. Unbelievable. I'm convinced we have the only bar guide in town written by an Amish guy.
4. If somebody asks for a real oddball drink with a silly name, make sure the first words out of your mouth are, “What the hell is that?” I mean, what else can you do when a customer orders a Brain Tumor, Nuts on a Navel or a Gooey Load Blower?