I’ve had two off sale jobs (selling booze) in my career and I have mixed feelings about them. On the plus side they were good places to work for, with good management and staff. You could also read and do schoolwork when you aren’t selling beer or stocking alcohol. Individual interactions with patrons are also generally brief and to the point.

However, you deal with alot of obnoxious customers. Many are drunk or rude, some are annoying and difficult, and on a busy night you have no time to read, sit still, or relax. Stocking can also be a bitch, especially when you have to stack forty 24 packs on top of each other, while constantly going back to the counter to sell beer whenever a customer comes in. 

Then there’s the theft. Most places have a wall of shame, covered with printed off pictures of people who “liberate” booze from the off sale. They tend to try this while we stock, when we are busy with customers, or simply whenever we lower our guard. Vigilance is the price for law and order in the bar industry.

But theft is also a gamble for potential thieves. There was a magnetic lock on the exit door we could activate if we saw them steal and made a run for the door. In that case they’d have to run back through the bar and a gauntlet of pissed off bar staff, who could tackle the offender. Frankly, it’s not worth the potential fine, jail time, or damaged reputation just to steal a $20 mickey of cherry whiskey liquor… but who said raging alcoholics are known for their judgement.

I was lucky my tours of duty in the off sales were mostly uneventful and without incident… until one Friday night in the middle of the summer of 2008.

***

It was a typical busy night, with a constant stream of customers coming and going and I probably only had two short reprieves the whole shift. It’s always just you alone in the offsale, which made it a lonely job for even someone quiet like me. However, some of the staff would come in for brief chats when they weren’t busy, which gave me much needed distractions. There was Daniel, a chill, easygoing manager who did drugs and had demons, but was a standup boss. There were a few cute waitresses who made small talk, and there was the owner, who made sure to check on this post a few times a night. You can tell the good bosses from the bad ones in the industry by who talks to every employee and tours every station, and those who stay in the office or linger behind the bar.

But that night was so busy I soldiered on alone until 2 a.m. when we closed. With hindsight the industry messed up my sleeping patterns so badly that when I went back to University I struggled to show up to 9 a.m. classes. I’ve been a night owl since 2006, which takes  a toll on your health and relationships. 

Anyway, we had a deal on 24 packs of Coors Light, which were placed RIGHT NEXT to the exit door. Perhaps this wasn’t an ideal location given what happened. 

I was serving two regulars when a suspicious young man walked in. When you’ve been in the industry long enough you pick up vibes and signals and it was clear he was trouble. You could tell he knew he wasn’t suppose to be there, he wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, and he walked with his head down. The hoodie and sun glasses hiding his face were other dead give aways. 

With hindsight a quick “can I help you sir” from me would’ve been enough to chase him off, but I was too busy with the regulars and hadn’t fully registered him as a threat. Suddenly, the little punk grabbed a 24 pack of Coors and moved towards the exit. As I shouted out, “hey you, sir, sir, sir” he bolted past the customers going through the door. Had no one been leaving at the time I could’ve activated the magnetic lock, but the bastard had been smart to wait for this opening.

I didn’t have much time to think. Should I run after the kid to get the booze, or stay with the off sale to guard it and take the loss? The smarter thing is to shrug your shoulders and accept defeat but I was young, stubborn, and didn’t want to let it go. Thinking “NOT ON MY WATCH” I asked a trusted regular to inform the staff while I raced out the door. 

The kid was only 20 feet away and as I chased him I temporarily closed the distance between us. Unfortunately, I was out of shape then… in fact at least 30 pounds overweight. I pursued him for about 30 seconds before running out of breath. Meanwhile, the little bastard had youth and adrenaline on his side, turned around the corner of a 7/11, and got away. I felt a sense of shame… not only out of letting the bar down, but that I was out of shape.

Had I been in peak physical condition like I would be in a few years I would’ve caught up to the little punk, retrieved the cube of Coors Light and… “politely” tell him to not to show his face there again. Instead, I came back to the off sale empty handed and demoralized, with the owner waiting for me.

I liked Bevin, he’s the kind of owner who is always professional, never yells, and gives a lot of slack (as long as you care and do your job). While I expected some censure for leaving the off sale he gave me no grief. Instead, and I always laugh when I recall this, he said “that little cunt… how dare he?” Bevin told me to write off the 24 pack, walked back to h office, and reviewed the video footage. The incident was over.

***

A few hours later we got a phone call about some dumb teenagers drinking a 24 pack of Coors nearby and asked if we sold it to them. “Those cocky little bastards,” I thought, “to drink openly in a convenient store parking lot within two blocks of here.” While the staff were itching to confront the teens, the owner wisely cautioned us against it. Not only was the bar packed but we had nothing to gain from the situation. While we could’ve scared them and got back a few cans of beer the chance of assault and violence wasn’t worth it. Plus there would be questions on how underage teenagers acquired the beer cube.

Thus, we did nothing, I had lost a 24 pack on my watch, and the offender got away with it. More than 15 years later I have mixed feelings. In one sense, I’m still displeased the teen had defiled my precious off sale. But the older I get the more I admire his guts and am secretly glad he succeeded. Because we all do stupid things when we’re younger and I’ve done more regrettable things in the industry than steal beer. And I never got caught or paid the price. 

But such stories are for another time.