THE BARTENDER KNOWS #2
HOW DO I BECOME A BARTENDER?
Cheers everybody! I hope you’ve poured yourself a cold and tall one because this Bartender Knows is all about an education. That’s right! We got a couple questions sent to us already; some were just goofs, others were so fantastic that I’ll have to save them for another column. I’ll stick with this week’s question. Here we go:
“Dear Bartender Knows. I used to read the old ones! Good to have you back. I was younger then, but now I’m out of college and need a job. How do I become a bartender? Do I go to school? Do you make a shitload of money? I don’t know, what do I do? Talk to me!”— Jason
Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason. Oh friend, I’m already weeping for your dear precious little heart. Thank you for reaching out. I am here to help. But I fear you are on a long path, amigo. I’m assuming you still have a “2” in front of your age and that just might save you. But let’s face it: YOU’RE A DUDE.
There is NO more sexist profession in the world then bartending. Even if you’re a relatively attractive young lady who doesn’t even know how to make a Vodka and Soda, bar managers will hire you 15 times more than a pasty bloke like yourself (I’m just being mean). Every desperate bar manager holds a secret pornographic wish that their new hire will blow them eventually. Call it pathetic, but then again, who’s more pathetic than a bar manager?
Jason, are you a super model guy? That might help. But even then, the powers that be still believe in that 1950’s bullshit mantra that a pretty face will fill bar stools. In my 30 years of hospitality work (God, I’m old), I’ve seen it time and time again. I’ve trained tons of people, both men and women, and sometimes I look at the new employees as if they just stepped off a fucking spaceship. They’re clueless. Somebody must be sleeping with somebody.
This being said — it can be done. But the road is long and hard. I’ll ask you another question: do you know any wealthy people who own a club or a bar? Cronyism, bud. It’s the American Way. No? Ok. Well, here’s your battle plan. I’ll give you a couple cheats from my own beats.
I started as a barista. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was money. You had to interact with a crowd. You learned really quick the glory of cleaning shit off a toilet. Who says sweeping up needles off the floor is a bad thing? (It was the 90's). This, at least, would be stepping into the ‘Industry’. Another way in, which suits some people, is dishwashing. It’s actually not as bad as people think. Your skin is always baby soft and you get to learn some remedial Spanish along the way.
Next stop — waiting tables. This gets you in the game son! Now you’re front of house, running food, turning tables — and getting real cozy with a frustrated and highly irritable species called The Service Bartender. For some reason, God hates The Service Bartender. Something went entirely wrong for this egregious soul to be cursed with this foul duty. Either the person lacks totally in social skills, or is on the verge of being fired, The Service Bartender is akin to the “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” line. You ain’t shit. On one side, you’re dealing with all the bitch ass waiters who think their drink must be made next and now. The other, all of the ‘actual’ bartenders are interacting with people, being charming, getting phone numbers, and taking shots with the clientele. You ever crack a wishbone at Thanksgiving? You’re that bulbous link between the two bones — split right up the middle.
But you’re behind the bar! You’ve done it. You’ve snuck your way in, you sneaky bastard. The resume is slowly filling out. The next power move?
The Barback.
I must say, for many years, I thought this was a shit job. IT IS NOT. You get to learn how to change kegs, deal with the pressure tanks, learn how to clean the lines, and all the other less than glamorous activities that take place behind the scenes. You usually get a good hourly and 25% of the bartenders tips. You meet a tried and true professional, it can be a real great time. I had this one barback who was always on point. I needed ice, it was there before I asked. Low on well Vodka? The bottles were already stocked. I loved this dude. I told him, straight to his face: “I love your work ethic man. Here’s the deal. Never fuck me up and I’ll get you wasted the whole time, tip you out 30%, and you can spend your down time flirting with anything that has a pulse. Deal?”.
Least to say, we were a great team.
Look, in all honesty, being a bartender is really easy. Most drinks have two to three ingredients and you just have to think about the portions. Remember this next time some bartender tries to throw you some shade or attitude. They are idiots. Crack a bottle, pour a beer, mix some drinks — rinse and repeat. No big deal. It’s the other lessons that come later. Situations like; throwing people out of the bar with your bare hands, how to not get punched in a brawl, how to survive an active robbery situation, dealing with drug overdoses, helping crying women fall all over the floor drunk, negotiating with law enforcement, etc, etc, etc.
This I’ll cover in future columns.
Jason. You’ve made it. You’re a bartender now. But, like I said, you’re a young guy. The men who have come before you have carved out their own slog. They, like real soldiers, have accepted their Fate. Some people think bartending is an ends to a means. The real dogs make it their life. Are you sure you’re ready for this?
Do you have what it takes?
Don’t worry. I just poured myself a drink.
I can wait.
Sincerely, The Bartender Knows.
