Bartending 101: Ethical and Financial Considerations in the Bartender-Customer Relationship Dynamic
"Dude you bartenders are the greatest. No, hey... I really mean that. Seriously. I love you. And you're the best one. I MEAN THAT. HEY... Seriously. No. Seriously." - Drunk People
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Let me guess, you had one hell of a week. You've just spent several hours bathing, dressing, doing your hair, hydrating, and pre-funking, and now you're in the mood to truly defile both your liver and your good standing in the community. It's (insert day of the week here) night, and you've simply no desire to remain even remotely sober for a single second longer. Your pain is a familiar one to me. I can help you.
I was just like you, once.
Roughly 9 months ago, my career as a bartender was conceived in a most unexpected fashion. As I wandered the streets of Moscow on either Mardi Gras or St. Patrick's Day (am I the only one who can't tell these two March-ish sin-fests apart?), I bumped into an old friend who had been managing The Plant for a couple of years. I hadn't talked to him in ages, so I was as surprised as anybody when he revealed to me that he would be moving soon and he would be honored if I'd take his place behind the bar, despite having no previous bartending experience.
There are only two possible responses to somebody asking you if you'd like a job as a bartender. They are as follows:
Option 1: Shake his hand, thank him, and tell him you'd be pleased to talk with him further about this opportunity.
Option 2: Dance. Dance right there in the street, because holy shit HELL YES BARTENDING.
So I did. At least I did one of the two above, at the minimum. I'll leave it up to your imagination. It's also worth noting that, at that point, I was drunk enough that you may even remember what happened better than me, despite the fact that you weren't even there when it happened. In fact, if you have any other details from that night, please come forward when it's safe. Thank you.
In any case, I believed, at the time, that I had landed my dream job. I wasn't wrong, but it's been nothing short of fascinating to discover how little I knew about a job that I felt so strongly that I would love. I've learned a lot; some about myself, some about alcohol, but mostly about all of you crazy assholes over there on the other side of the bar. Make no mistake, I'm one of you, most nights. It could be convincingly argued that I am your king, even. But when I tend bar, I learn more about people than any of my sociology and/or psychology books could have ever taught me (had I purchased and/or read ANY of them). Because I have this blog now, I want to educate you, my faithful readers, in some of these areas.
Thus, welcome to your coursework in Bartending, a complex series of classes. You're undoubtedly aware of at least a few of the phenomena that I've encountered, but I would like to share with you some things that you may or may not know about tending bar (and all of the gloriousness that comes with it). This particular course (101) covers a single complex topic, as it is both lengthy and delicate. The following chapter will outline professional feelings regarding good tippers (or "VIP's"), average customers, and poor tippers (or "flagrant, unparalleled douchebags"). Please (please) take notes. Please.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LESSON ONE: Money. Talks. Period.
Let's get this one out of the way first. I don't want to sound greedy. I don't want to sound materialistic. I'm going to anyway, but please let me explain myself.
You see, we are tip whores.
I want to guide you through an exercise in cognitive reframing. From this point forward, if you even remotely frequent any one bar, it will benefit you to stop thinking of tips as "optional extra money," and start thinking of them as an investment in the quality of your future experiences at that particular bar.
If you find it in your best interest to stiff me after your experience at my bar, it will not ruin my night. I don't really need the money. Other people will tip (better people than you). Odds are actually pretty good that I'll be just fine. No, it's far more likely to ruin your night the next time you decide to visit. You see, we remember you. Whether it's by your face, or by your name, or by your drink, we absolutely remember you. And we talk about you. We do this because you deserve it. We do this because we hate you.
There is only one excuse for not tipping: poor service. Most people in the service industry get paid less than minimum wage. This is only legal because it is understood that, barring some sort of freak customer shortage, we will exceed minimum wage via tips by varying amounts each night. If you have received poor service from any one of our bartenders, then you are absolutely entitled not to tip. Unfortunately, this happens a lot less often than you think it does. Here are the most common reasons people actually stiff bartenders, as well as the corresponding arguments for why these people are still soulless douchebags:
Again, I can't legally or ethically refuse to serve you simply because you didn't tip me last time. But I can absolutely tell you that it's in your best interest to have a friend behind the bar. You'll be amazed at the difference it makes. To illustrate, I present the following real-life example:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chuck, Keenan, and Joe are three regulars at my bar. They're students like many of you. They are, by no means, rich, but they make the effort to tip every single time, and it's usually above what's expected. Because they did this even early on in our relationship, I reciprocated by making the effort to go above and beyond to get them their drinks faster, stronger, cheaper, or all of the above. On nights where they spend a lot of money, a couple of drinks are absolutely going to be on the house.
It gets better.
On busy nights where the line extends to the back of the bar, instead of waiting 20 minutes for a drink, one of these three gentlemen can wave at me or call my name (which, by the way, works so much better than just yelling "HEY!!!!!!"), and they can give me one finger (for "another drink for me" or "eff you," depending on the finger), or they can signal for another round for each of them, and I'll get it while I'm getting drinks for the people waiting in line. In one or two minutes, while still playing their game of pool, they can wander up and grab their drinks without ever having stopped what they were doing.
And there are so many more perks. Try them all out! Still complaining about lines? Come in on a couple slow nights and get to know your bartender. You will not regret it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In summary, it's important to remember that, for me, what we've discussed thus far isn't about the money. I have a full-time day job where I make more than enough for a lifestyle with relatively few expenses. However, this isn't true for everybody. For some of them, it's a way to get through college or something noble like that. I bartend because it's friggin' awesome.
No, this is about what your money represents. I may have already earned my keep for the night, but it's absolutely not in your best interest to make excuses for not tipping me. Unless I've slighted you in some legitimate way (trust me, I didn't), your reasoning for withholding a tip is faulty. If you believe that we shouldn't look so much into the tips, and should instead put more stock in the meaningful interactions and thank-yous that we get with individual customers, you're not entirely wrong. Still, you're strikingly similar to the idiot who won't buy his girl an engagement ring because it should be enough that he means it when he says "I love you."
Sure you do, until the next bar with mammoth boobs comes by.
Everybody talks. Put your money where your mouth is. It's for both of us, trust me.
Anyway, what I'm saying, I guess, is this: if you make excuses for not tipping, then you're a douchebag (seriously, sorry, I know I've said that a lot, but you just are, and I hate you), but if you're a good tipper, then I'd like to marry you. All of you.
Soooo....... Yeah.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Let me guess, you had one hell of a week. You've just spent several hours bathing, dressing, doing your hair, hydrating, and pre-funking, and now you're in the mood to truly defile both your liver and your good standing in the community. It's (insert day of the week here) night, and you've simply no desire to remain even remotely sober for a single second longer. Your pain is a familiar one to me. I can help you.
I was just like you, once.
Roughly 9 months ago, my career as a bartender was conceived in a most unexpected fashion. As I wandered the streets of Moscow on either Mardi Gras or St. Patrick's Day (am I the only one who can't tell these two March-ish sin-fests apart?), I bumped into an old friend who had been managing The Plant for a couple of years. I hadn't talked to him in ages, so I was as surprised as anybody when he revealed to me that he would be moving soon and he would be honored if I'd take his place behind the bar, despite having no previous bartending experience.
There are only two possible responses to somebody asking you if you'd like a job as a bartender. They are as follows:
Option 1: Shake his hand, thank him, and tell him you'd be pleased to talk with him further about this opportunity.
Option 2: Dance. Dance right there in the street, because holy shit HELL YES BARTENDING.
So I did. At least I did one of the two above, at the minimum. I'll leave it up to your imagination. It's also worth noting that, at that point, I was drunk enough that you may even remember what happened better than me, despite the fact that you weren't even there when it happened. In fact, if you have any other details from that night, please come forward when it's safe. Thank you.
In any case, I believed, at the time, that I had landed my dream job. I wasn't wrong, but it's been nothing short of fascinating to discover how little I knew about a job that I felt so strongly that I would love. I've learned a lot; some about myself, some about alcohol, but mostly about all of you crazy assholes over there on the other side of the bar. Make no mistake, I'm one of you, most nights. It could be convincingly argued that I am your king, even. But when I tend bar, I learn more about people than any of my sociology and/or psychology books could have ever taught me (had I purchased and/or read ANY of them). Because I have this blog now, I want to educate you, my faithful readers, in some of these areas.
Thus, welcome to your coursework in Bartending, a complex series of classes. You're undoubtedly aware of at least a few of the phenomena that I've encountered, but I would like to share with you some things that you may or may not know about tending bar (and all of the gloriousness that comes with it). This particular course (101) covers a single complex topic, as it is both lengthy and delicate. The following chapter will outline professional feelings regarding good tippers (or "VIP's"), average customers, and poor tippers (or "flagrant, unparalleled douchebags"). Please (please) take notes. Please.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LESSON ONE: Money. Talks. Period.
Let's get this one out of the way first. I don't want to sound greedy. I don't want to sound materialistic. I'm going to anyway, but please let me explain myself.
You see, we are tip whores.
I want to guide you through an exercise in cognitive reframing. From this point forward, if you even remotely frequent any one bar, it will benefit you to stop thinking of tips as "optional extra money," and start thinking of them as an investment in the quality of your future experiences at that particular bar.
If you find it in your best interest to stiff me after your experience at my bar, it will not ruin my night. I don't really need the money. Other people will tip (better people than you). Odds are actually pretty good that I'll be just fine. No, it's far more likely to ruin your night the next time you decide to visit. You see, we remember you. Whether it's by your face, or by your name, or by your drink, we absolutely remember you. And we talk about you. We do this because you deserve it. We do this because we hate you.
There is only one excuse for not tipping: poor service. Most people in the service industry get paid less than minimum wage. This is only legal because it is understood that, barring some sort of freak customer shortage, we will exceed minimum wage via tips by varying amounts each night. If you have received poor service from any one of our bartenders, then you are absolutely entitled not to tip. Unfortunately, this happens a lot less often than you think it does. Here are the most common reasons people actually stiff bartenders, as well as the corresponding arguments for why these people are still soulless douchebags:
- Long lines - This is tragically common on nights like Thursday at my bar, and is often mistaken by the ignorant and feeble-minded as "poor service." For those of you who are unfamiliar with The Plantation, Thursday night in Moscow is "Plant Night." On these nights, we are often at capacity, and we fit as many bartenders behind the bar as we are functionally able to (four). Lines are often long, and tempers are always short, thus typically resulting in slower service and lower tips. Seems fair, right? Here's my biggest problem with this line of thinking: Unless you're a surprised visitor from out of town, you know damn well what you're getting into. When you get all of your friends together for Plant Night, you're doing it because it's popular and because it's fucking awesome. Guess what? Everybody else is on the same page. As the expression goes, "You can't have your cake and eat it, too." If long lines because of high attendance drive you crazy, stay the fuck away from busy bars. If you continue to return on these nights, I am forced to assume that your experiences simply could not have been all that terrible, and that the reason you're not tipping is because you're a cheap, selfish douchebag.
- No money - I understand that I live in a college town, and that most students naturally exist in a state of poverty normally exclusive to the poorer regions of India. I get it. I was you, once. Remember? Still, if you are suffering from financial hardship so severely that you can't afford to throw a couple dollars my way, then you absolutely shouldn't be drinking at my bar in the first place. You came to me for help in fixing whatever unfortunate pain/stress/sobriety you were currently encountering, and I was there for you. If the alcohol was all you wanted, you can pick up any drink at the liquor store or the gas station for a third the price that I will charge you. If you came to me for you drinks, then do the honorable thing and take care of me the way that I have you. If you don't, I will understand exactly how far down your list of priorities I am. You will fall to a similar location on mine.
- High bill already - This drives us absolutely out of our minds. This is the high-maintenance person that we poured 16 Watermelon Crawls earlier for him and the 15 hot girls that he'll progressively be rejected by as the night goes on. He drinks eight double Jack and Cokes by himself, and orders eccentric and time-consuming drinks and shots to impress ladies 16 through god knows how many until he finally goes home alone and begins to estimate how much money he'll need to spend next time so that he can actually get laid. He thanks me for my help and my hard work all night, and, to his credit, he actually means it. I hand him his tab, which comes to a soul-crushing $97.50 on a night that he'll likely spend sweet-talking his right hand. He winces, shrugs, and nods at me in understanding, as if to say, "Yeah, I highly doubt this was worth it." The self-awareness in his drunken eyes in this moment is off the charts when you consider that this is a man who is alarmingly likely to make the exact same mistake tomorrow night, and on many nights yet to come. He signs his receipt, shakes my hand, thanks me again, and exits the bar. I look down and discover that, in an effort to make things nice and neat and even, he has decided to tip me and the rest of the staff a total of $2.50. He's actually a pretty decent guy, more aloof than malicious, but because he's absorbed entirely in himself and what his money can get him, he has forgotten that his bill is not just a fun little math problem to cap off the night, it's the physical manifestation of what I mean to him. And apparently that value is less than the convenience of making his total a neat, clean $100. He has just tipped us maybe 3%, and what started as a promising bartender-customer relationship has gone south quickly. If you have the money to drop a Benjamin on alcohol, you can afford to tip appropriately.
- While we're on this note, I'd like to make an effort to increase awareness in an area that can be relatively annoying for employees in the service industry. When you tip us a certain amount of money on your debit card, we pull that exact amount of money out of our register at the end of the night. So if your bill comes to $17.71 at the end of the night, and you tip $2.29 so that you can be at an even $20, we hate you. Alright, that's probably extreme, but in all seriousness, just tip us $2. Or $3. Or $5. TIP US AN EVEN NUMBER. Please. Even quarters ($2.25 or $2.50) are fine because we can group them up into dollars relatively quickly. But once we get started in pennies, we often have to either just take the pennies home or color them up into the more appealing nickels, dimes, and quarters. Some people have even admitted to struggling in making a decision between $1 and $6 on a $19 tab. Please listen closely: If your bill ends at $22 or $23, you're gonna be ok. In all honesty, there are worse problems to have, and I'm aware of that. However, most people fail to recognize that it's not important at all to your bank account if you spend an odd amount. We, on the other hand, have to deal with obsolete change that we don't even use regularly. If you think we deserve $2.29, just make it $2 or $2.25, or even $2.50 if you're feeling generous. It's difficult to explain exactly why that is unless you receive tips regularly. In fact, it wasn't something I was aware of until I began tending bar, so I'm willing to forgive in this department. For a little while. But take my word please, we'll like you better for it.
- Really low bill - So you only bought one drink, and your total was $2.50. Do you really owe me anything, even though I really didn't do a damn thing? No, you don't, but remember that it says something about you. Especially if you pay with a card, just throw an extra little fifty cents on there. Did that hurt you? I'm very sorry, but guess what: we noticed. I know it's almost nothing as measured in value, but it's a pretty standard 20% tip, and you wanted us to have it. If you neglect to do this regularly, you're not really hurting us badly in each individual transaction. No, you're more like a leach, one who's slowly obtaining more and more alcohol without ever tipping - one who's gradually sucking the life out of the bartender-customer relationship. You're a terrible person. Not in the same way that the douche above is, but you're still nothing short of an absolute monster. Spend $4? Throw one or two our way. Spend $8? Go crazy and make it an even $10. We notice, and you'll benefit from it.
- "Yeah but it's your job to serve me" - You're not wrong, I'll give you that. However, as I've pointed out before, we make less than minimum wage. If everybody approached us the way that you do, we would not be receiving adequate compensation legally for our work. "But not everybody is going to not tip you." This is true, so my question to you is this: Why you? Why are you the person that doesn't have to tip? You've successfully twisted your assumptions that we'll ultimately make at least minimum wage, and you're somehow using that line of logic to justify saving yourself a couple bucks? You make me physically ill. And you're not that uncommon. You're falling victim to what's known as the "Bystander Effect," where each person believes that somebody else will come along and make whatever situation they're in right. You're suffering from varying degrees of narcissism, depending on the severity of your convictions, and you're absolutely everything that's at the root of what's wrong with this world. Everything. You feel entitled to be the exception, and you're the supreme ruler of each of the douchebags I've discussed already. If this is indicative of your approach to other areas of life, then from a Darwinistic perspective, I literally don't want you alive anymore. The thought of your traits being passed on to each of the twelve children you'll probably end up having because the government gives you more of my money for each one you have is unbearable to me. I will make it my life's ambition to have people like you legally castrated, and future generations will read about me and revere me for my efforts in making the world a decent place to live again. I'm not joking. When somebody uses this sort of bullshit rationale, everything I just discussed goes through my head. Needless to say, you will receive no favors from me at my bar. Douchebag.
Again, I can't legally or ethically refuse to serve you simply because you didn't tip me last time. But I can absolutely tell you that it's in your best interest to have a friend behind the bar. You'll be amazed at the difference it makes. To illustrate, I present the following real-life example:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chuck, Keenan, and Joe are three regulars at my bar. They're students like many of you. They are, by no means, rich, but they make the effort to tip every single time, and it's usually above what's expected. Because they did this even early on in our relationship, I reciprocated by making the effort to go above and beyond to get them their drinks faster, stronger, cheaper, or all of the above. On nights where they spend a lot of money, a couple of drinks are absolutely going to be on the house.
It gets better.
On busy nights where the line extends to the back of the bar, instead of waiting 20 minutes for a drink, one of these three gentlemen can wave at me or call my name (which, by the way, works so much better than just yelling "HEY!!!!!!"), and they can give me one finger (for "another drink for me" or "eff you," depending on the finger), or they can signal for another round for each of them, and I'll get it while I'm getting drinks for the people waiting in line. In one or two minutes, while still playing their game of pool, they can wander up and grab their drinks without ever having stopped what they were doing.
And there are so many more perks. Try them all out! Still complaining about lines? Come in on a couple slow nights and get to know your bartender. You will not regret it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In summary, it's important to remember that, for me, what we've discussed thus far isn't about the money. I have a full-time day job where I make more than enough for a lifestyle with relatively few expenses. However, this isn't true for everybody. For some of them, it's a way to get through college or something noble like that. I bartend because it's friggin' awesome.
No, this is about what your money represents. I may have already earned my keep for the night, but it's absolutely not in your best interest to make excuses for not tipping me. Unless I've slighted you in some legitimate way (trust me, I didn't), your reasoning for withholding a tip is faulty. If you believe that we shouldn't look so much into the tips, and should instead put more stock in the meaningful interactions and thank-yous that we get with individual customers, you're not entirely wrong. Still, you're strikingly similar to the idiot who won't buy his girl an engagement ring because it should be enough that he means it when he says "I love you."
Sure you do, until the next bar with mammoth boobs comes by.
Everybody talks. Put your money where your mouth is. It's for both of us, trust me.
Anyway, what I'm saying, I guess, is this: if you make excuses for not tipping, then you're a douchebag (seriously, sorry, I know I've said that a lot, but you just are, and I hate you), but if you're a good tipper, then I'd like to marry you. All of you.
Soooo....... Yeah.
Comments
Post a Comment