The Polar Bar in the historic Arctic Club Hotel is an upscale cocktail lounge reminiscent of the bar from “The Shining.” The walls at the entrance are littered with pictures of its early members who made their money from the gold rush, the pool table dates back to its original opening as a gentleman’s club in 1916 and the lead bartender even dons a classic white jacket just to add to that “old timey,” sophisticated style. One would think that with such a classy feel to the business, the cliental would most likely match that sense. Yet, week after week, I am faced with a clusterfuck of the wretched assholes this city has to offer. Don’t get me wrong, a majority of the people who frequent my bar are making six figures, sending their children to private schools and banging their 22 year-old secretary. Unless you have worked in the industry at some point, though, you may not realize that these upper crust fuckwits are the worst offenders of all that make my job a joyous hell. It would seem the more money a person has, the more likely they are to ask me to take my pants off to get a look at the scar on my leg. Let’s go over a few basic rules you may want to abide by when going to my bar or bars similar to it.
1. No matter how softly you think you’re talking, the bar staff is always listening.
I was standing at my station ringing up a few tickets, when from behind I heard a group of lawyers change their subject from their most recent verdict to how one could tell the difference between a hooker who’s a transvestite and a cop. Words like “hooker” and “transvestite” stand out, I thought this was common knowledge, but perhaps I just listen very hard for discussions about prostitutes. By the way boys, if there’s an Adam’s apple... that’s a dude. Not rocket science.
2. Stalking is not as flattering as you may think.
During my shift, my phone was hiding at the side of the bar, unseen unless you knew where it was. After my shift was over at around 1 am, I got a text from an unknown number telling me the party was in room 1001. I, of course, wanted to know who it was and they kept responding in a come-hither, coy “you know you want it” manner. Turns out they had snuck to my phone while I was away from it and called their own phone to get my number. This is a no-no. This kind of privacy invasion results in a swift, well-aimed dick punch. Don’t do it. It’s creepy.
3. Do not touch your server or bartender.
I dropped a drink off for a man and he said, “Thank you, sweetheart,” and then proceeded to put his hand on my thigh. I slapped his hand away and he gave me a look of total shock. “I’m sorry,” said, “did me smacking you get in the way of you groping me?” If you don’t know them, no touchy.
4. Do not ask the server or bartender to touch you or your friends
I had been serving three gentlemen over by the pool table for about an hour when the older one (probably late 50s) said in a mildly slurred voice, “Anna, would you do my friend a favor?” Now this is always a loaded question, so tread gently. “What do you need?” He got real close to us and said, “Could you spank him for me? Just a quick slap? He’s had a rough day.” The answer to this is always “no” and it’s a sure way to get yourself cut-off. I make it a personal rule to not spank my customers, because it doesn’t give the right impression of what I do. His friends apologized profusely and then proceeded to give me a 100% tip. I felt like a prostitute who gets paid beforehand for a blowjob, but the client passed out before the fellacio could be performed. Bad analogy. Not the point. I won’t spank you, so don’t ask.
5. Don’t linger once the bar is closing
When we say “last-call,” that means order your drinks, down them and get the fuck out of our bar. I don’t know if you realize this, but bartenders love to drink. Some may say we border on alcoholism, but the point is you’re not the only one who wants to get blasted and make bad decisions. I have an indefinite appointment with an outside table at Il Bistro for a pack of Camel Lights and a gallon of Redbreast Irish Whiskey and I don’t like to reschedule.
1. No matter how softly you think you’re talking, the bar staff is always listening.
I was standing at my station ringing up a few tickets, when from behind I heard a group of lawyers change their subject from their most recent verdict to how one could tell the difference between a hooker who’s a transvestite and a cop. Words like “hooker” and “transvestite” stand out, I thought this was common knowledge, but perhaps I just listen very hard for discussions about prostitutes. By the way boys, if there’s an Adam’s apple... that’s a dude. Not rocket science.
2. Stalking is not as flattering as you may think.
During my shift, my phone was hiding at the side of the bar, unseen unless you knew where it was. After my shift was over at around 1 am, I got a text from an unknown number telling me the party was in room 1001. I, of course, wanted to know who it was and they kept responding in a come-hither, coy “you know you want it” manner. Turns out they had snuck to my phone while I was away from it and called their own phone to get my number. This is a no-no. This kind of privacy invasion results in a swift, well-aimed dick punch. Don’t do it. It’s creepy.
3. Do not touch your server or bartender.
I dropped a drink off for a man and he said, “Thank you, sweetheart,” and then proceeded to put his hand on my thigh. I slapped his hand away and he gave me a look of total shock. “I’m sorry,” said, “did me smacking you get in the way of you groping me?” If you don’t know them, no touchy.
4. Do not ask the server or bartender to touch you or your friends
I had been serving three gentlemen over by the pool table for about an hour when the older one (probably late 50s) said in a mildly slurred voice, “Anna, would you do my friend a favor?” Now this is always a loaded question, so tread gently. “What do you need?” He got real close to us and said, “Could you spank him for me? Just a quick slap? He’s had a rough day.” The answer to this is always “no” and it’s a sure way to get yourself cut-off. I make it a personal rule to not spank my customers, because it doesn’t give the right impression of what I do. His friends apologized profusely and then proceeded to give me a 100% tip. I felt like a prostitute who gets paid beforehand for a blowjob, but the client passed out before the fellacio could be performed. Bad analogy. Not the point. I won’t spank you, so don’t ask.
5. Don’t linger once the bar is closing
When we say “last-call,” that means order your drinks, down them and get the fuck out of our bar. I don’t know if you realize this, but bartenders love to drink. Some may say we border on alcoholism, but the point is you’re not the only one who wants to get blasted and make bad decisions. I have an indefinite appointment with an outside table at Il Bistro for a pack of Camel Lights and a gallon of Redbreast Irish Whiskey and I don’t like to reschedule.
2 comments:
Well, looks like I'll never visit you at work. What a prude!
Post a Comment