“Fuck Landan drinks alot!” 

During my career I usually had better relations with the kitchen than the FOH. Partially, this was due to most cooks being guys and since I treated them better than whiny waitresses the boys loved me. We also worked in different areas and I respected their autonomy. But most crucially, even cynically, I needed them more than they needed me and being a realist I respected the balance of power.

***

Landan worked with me at the second rate pizza chain 10 miles outside the city. He was a veteran of the industry like me and ran the kitchen. Landan was an effective leader, manager, and could do any role in the kitchen better than anyone. I don’t use the word meritocracy often when speaking of the industry, but he’d risen up through the ranks on ability alone. I say this because while Landan was a nice and easygoing he could also be stubborn and hot headed (much like myself). While he showed patience and fairness to his staff he also suffered no fools and ran the kitchen with an iron fist when needed. 

Given the kitchen never gave me trouble and got my food out quickly 99% of the time I never faulted Landon on a professional level. On a personal level we also got along very well, despite both having strong, opinionated personalties. As I recall we had plenty of arguments at the bartop or when we went out drinking, but they were never mean-spirited. He even kept his mouth shut when I’d shoot my mouth off about the many inadequacies displayed by the FOH managers while slinging drinks behind the bar. Since colleagues in the industry will throw you under the bus for nearly anything I consider that loyalty. 

But eventually Landan and I would become… separated from service from the pizza chain due to our outspoken nature combined with I’ll advised scandals. Yet such stories are for another time.

Besides our strong personalties we had other similar flaws. We liked hot women, took alot of physical risks, and drank too much. I used to believe the ability to outdrink co-workers was an admirable, perhaps even necessary quality. With hindsight it’s stupid and immature but when most of your superiors think cocaine and chicken wings are vital parts of the four food groups you can develop the wrong set of values. Thus, it was my belief owners should be able to outdrink managers, who should be able to outdrink the serving staff, who should be able to outdrink the hostesses… who probably shouldn’t be drinking at all!

Being a veteran of the industry and a raging alcoholic I could more than hold my own, but I soon learned the futility of trying to match Landan’s alcohol tolerance.

***

Landan had a well established routine every Friday and Saturday night. He’d get off work around 8 p.m, sit at the bartop, and drink like a fish until 12 a.m. (or whenever we went somewhere else to drink). He rarely ate, never drank water, and subsided on a diet of Pilsner cans, MGD bottles, and Jägermeister shots. He claimed Jäger shots prevented him from getting sick and given I never recall him taking a sick day maybe he was right. 

He could drink hard and fast and over a four hour “shift” at the bartop his bill often exceeded 20 standard units of alcohol. Bartenders are trained to never over-serve patrons but much like warfare theory tends to be pulverized by practice (and the quest for tips). Being a manager and swell guy Landan would get cheap drinks and one of my favourite things was seeing management discount his bills. Our POS system was a literally a piece of shit so rather than being able to discount all drinks at once managers had to do each one manually. I remember one busy Friday when Landan had over-imbibed more than usual and the manager went through three columns of drinks. About three quarters in he lost his patience and said “fuck Landan drinks too much!”

You would think he’d be so fucked up on booze each weekend to even be able to walk but I’ve never seen a man handle his booze so well… in 17 years. He would even go back to the kitchen to pick up slack or chew out an employee when needed during drinking sessions. Did I mention this was highly illegal?

Landan also had no problem with the ladies… or at least hitting on them. He was surprisingly confident and coherent, despite a blood alcohol level higher than Barney’s on The Simpsons. Landan would hit on any girl at the bar top under the sun whether it was a colleague, customer, or even a manager! But I’d never call him inappropriate or creepy, as he was respectful and never crossed the line. I’m unsure of his success rate as his was often significantly older than our serving staff (as was I) but I think we struck out more times than Nolan Ryan.

I remember us competing for a cute, skinny, dark haired girl ten years younger. But she showed more interest in me, I invited her to my birthday party, and said I’d invite Landan. Of course I didn’t and Landan said he waited for my text that night until 9 p.m, laughed, and said “that son of a bitch!” It didn’t matter, nothing happened between her and I and she ended up dating some abusive asshole… as too many girls in their 20s do. 

***

Landan did many hilarious things but the best occurred during our staff party around Christmas. Brandon had cleaned up for the night, being decently dressed and clean-shaven. No doubt he hoped to take one of the girls home. As far I remember the party was lame. They had one of those Chinese gift exchanges, which I’ve never figured out how they work. The only amusing thing I recall was one of the girls opening a gift that was literally a bowl and a plate one of the cooks stole from his kitchen at home. Needless to say, no one wanted to trade their gift in for that “treasure chest.”

There was also an ugly Christmas sweater competition and alot of drinking, but otherwise the night was meh. Until near the end! I don’t remember how it happened but at some point a can of whip cream circulated among the group. The connotations were obviously sexual as we’d spray it in our drinks, or down our throats, and it was pretty funny. Of course I didn’t partake… given the prevalence of smart phones and my sense of dignity.

Eventually the can got to Landan, who was at the end of the table. By now he was drunker than usual, which shows how much we drank that night, and a sinister look suddenly overtook his face. Full of more liquid courage than a Russian on V.E. Day he jolted out of his chair. Then he jumped onto the bartop to the horror of the staff, who thought he’d fall off and break his neck.

Without warning he turned around, shook the whip cream can roughly, and unceremoniously emptied its contents at crouch level to simulate excessive male ejaculation. Whip cream went flying across the bartop, covered the well bottles, and even hit wine bottles on the back counter.

…I’ve never seen a group howl in laughter so hard in 17 years of bartending. Even the crusty female co-owner burst into tears. I can’t remember if I was roaring too or if I was momentarily disgusted he’d disrespected the sanctity of my bar. But as far as I know the only person who disapproved was the wife of the millionaire who owned the place, who spoke of “the incident” even five years later.

***

A few months afterwards I left the pizza place for what I hoped would be a better restaurant but it ended up being the worst restaurant I suffered in my career. But it’s hard not to think the grass is greener on the other side when you’re drowning in the weeds. Brandon would also be fired due to speaking truth to power and being caught drinking and driving.

I’d see Brandon occasionally during the next few years as we kept circulating in the industry and frequented many places to drink. Unlike many former colleagues I was always glad to see him. We’d catch up, ask where we were working, and laugh about old times. As far as I know he’s still working the bar industry, working at a local independent tavern that respects his talents… and drinking habits. 

I’m just glad I got out of the industry alive.