Nothing says your establishment encourages responsible alcohol consumption like cheap deals for multiple shooters. No customers or groups would take advantage of that to get drunk as fast as possible. No guy would take them to get enough liquid courage to make a move on some girl at the bar. And no alcoholic would slam them all at once, thinking he could drive home before the alcohol entered his blood stream.
By the way I’m being sarcastic!
***
More than a decade ago I bartended at a second-rate pizza chain 10 minutes outside my city. I had helped open it and started as the head bartender (mostly because few people were willing to make the commute). The staff were green, the owners pleasant but lax, and the managers were generally obnoxious. Then again, it was a low point in my career and I doubt I was the most pleasant subordinate. At least I was reliable and efficient, which put me ahead of 95% of the staff.
It doesn’t matter. In hindsight I appreciate my time there, if only for the stories and lessons I learned. I was at least a decade older than most of the female staff and my aloof, mysterious nature meant some had innocent crushes on me. However, I liked someone else from another job, who was naturally not interested, and I missed a few opportunities in front of me. But that’s for another time.
Then again, I was a mess at the time and had anything happened it likely would have complicated things on the job. Word to the wise, sometimes it’s better to settle for what you got, even if it’s nothing. Because as I once said to a manager at this bar “sometimes the only thing worse than being single, is not being single.”
Anyway, one of the girls who showed some interest in me was named Whitney. She was above average height, blonde, had a cute face, and was thick (in the good way). As I recall she had an estranged relationship with her stepfather, a millionaire who owned the bar, and claims she was hired in spite of this connection. But given how she sparred with the owner’s son, who managed the place, this may have been true.
I’m unsure why I never made a move on Whitney, even after the girl from the other bar rejected me. She was flirty and occasionally physical with me, and had a pleasant demeanour. Most likely she wasn’t single, or I assumed she wasn’t. Or maybe it’s because she had an eternally bubbly and positive disposition, and during that time I was more sour than I cared to admit. Sometimes you have enough self-awareness to realize not to pursue someone who isn’t right for you… or someone you could end up hurting.
***
It was a Friday night in the summer soon after we introduced the four shots for $15 deal. I can’t remember which shots qualified but I think there was 6-8 of them. But they probably included Pornstars, Burt Reynolds, Marijuana Milkshakes, and Apple Pies. I won’t describe them because Google or AI prompts are literally just a few clicks away from your hands. It’s possible we let people upgrade to Jägerbombs for $6 because I remember being pissed off making dozens of these, which kept sinking my bar.
For some reason I wasn’t the closing bartender, either due to a scheduling error or the manager cutting my hours to punish me for occasional insubordination. I didn’t care as I was tired of working until 3 a.m. each weekend and looked forward to hanging out with my friends on Friday night for a change. It was probably between 10-10:30 p.m. so I decided to have a staff beer before meeting my friends. It’s likely I also wanted to chat up Whitney or a cute patron at the bar.
While nursing the drink I counted my tips, a faux pas in front of customers but such acts were my way of rebelling against management. I noticed that with my tip outs I’d received more money than I expected. The smart thing to do would’ve been to save as much as possible for a rainy day. But the more I noticed the 4 shots for $15 deal spread across the lounge the temptation to take advantage of it became insurmountable. As public relations and common sense would teach me, advertising works.
Beside beerconomics I wanted to pre-drink enough to match my friends by the time we met. It’s stupid and irresponsible but young men like to compete in such matters. I also wanted to impress the girls and shock the managers at the same time. Of course in hindsight I likely just looked like a drunk to the ladies and a fool to my bosses.
Anyway, I got the closing bartender to line up 4 shots, likely pornstars as they were the tastiest. Typically I’d call out the cheers myself and back then they ranged from things like “to the British Empire,” “to the mission,” or “to communism,” despite my hatred of communism. Don’t ask me why I chose such silly cheers, they were likely what first came to mind or I wanted to take people off guard. No wonder many waitresses found me… eccentric.
This time I asked Whitney to call out the cheers, because I found her intriguing and it would provide some welcome variety. But her cheers would turn out to be far more rosy and sunny than my cryptic ones.
“For beauty,” she started. I was confused but went with it. “For the future,” she continued. “Okay…” I thought. “For happiness,” she went on. I nearly scoffed. “For love,” she finished. “You gotta be kidding me,” I thought as I scowled and downed the last shot.
Feelings and hope… that’s what she cheered for. At that time in my life I suppressed the former and had little of the latter. I thanked Whitney for her efforts but she likely sensed my amusement. No wonder her and I never got together, despite our mutual attraction.
***
I quickly downed my beer, paid the bill, and drove home within 15 minutes, convincing myself I’d get there before the shots overran my bloodstream. I’m not proud of drinking and driving or the rationalization, but back then I often didn’t think of the future or consider the consequences of poor decisions. That’s what alcohol and a stressful industry does… you start to lose sight of what matters and live day by day.