TimBones wrote:
My special message to the DR Bartendistas: Just serve me my beer, return my correct change before the next year and I will tip you an appropriate amount; Expect no Jaeger Shots or 100% tip so you will think I am important; other than that, I got 200 hookers willing to rub their tits on my back, so why care about a bartender?
Agreed. Call me crazy -- OK, you're crazy
-- but I like a good bartender. I do enjoy the chica bartenders, especially on vacation, but sometimes I just want a professional bartender. Got spoiled by one in Atlanta a few years back. Alex, a rather smart-looking gray-haired fellow who always wore a 3-piece and a tie to work, never complained about anything, and when not actually serving a customer, stood facing the bar with his hands crossed behind his back. Answering his cellphone would have been sacrilegious and a disgrace to the profession, almost as much as not knowing how to make a respectable drink. In fact, the only time he ever took out his cellphone was to browse the internet for sports scores (only when requested by a customer), and he had all the major sites programmed in. You were always "Mister" whatever, and he knew everything about the local area. Never had to pay a parking ticket for infractions incurred while sitting at his bar either -- really good customers got out of worse or got a referral to a top-notch lawyer (tell them Alex sent you). Fantastic mob connections, which meant pretty much anything you wanted, anytime you wanted. He never mopped a floor or restocked a bar -- that's for barbacks. And... he never, ever, ever, EVER, asked you to buy him a drink. Real bartenders never drink on the job. And if you ask for a beer (bottle or draft) they will glady pour it, but you can see the look of disappointment on their face. Real bartenders not only know what a barspoon is, but also know what it's for.
Professional bartending is a dying profession, but if you can find a good one, consider yourself lucky.
About the "Mister" part above, I once told him "Alex (he insisted you call him by his first name), how many times do I have to tell you to call me John." His reply was "at least one more time, Mister Smith". I accused him in front of another customer of stealing that line from Pirates of the Caribbean. The other customer corrected me, insisting Alex had been using that line since the late 1980's. Considering some of the clientele in that bar, I often wonder if Orlando Bloom or someone higher up the Hollywood food chain was a regular customer at that bar.
SR
Great post and I too would frequent a bar like that, however, the bartenders at the Del Rey are the antithesis of everything you describe; they cheat you, pretend to do a shot with you to pocket the cost, talk on their cells, take forever with your change (some speculate because they hope you forget) are bitchy and think they are hotter then they are. That's why I concentrate on the whores in front of the bar, rather than the ones behind the bar.
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