live::.life.love.lost.found

This is my first blog, not necessarily my last unless it reaches my employers past, and present unsettlingly.

We folks are a dime a dozen. Plain bare bold… we are the lines of defense between our employers and the customers we serve. We are so easily forgotten because at one glance a wave of us may disappear. With the hopes of the new fill be satisfactory, we bleed, sweat and give our lengthy hours to those, who because of their credit cards think that WE have to put up with their over allowed shit. Above and besides a handful, they may think of us as servants, we are carpenters, carpenters of their night. We make the drinks that they want, we make them feel invisible to all the denying women… we are gods. We are gods. They yell, they fight, they try to tell us how good of a customer they are… but really? But really? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??? I serve you; I make the best drinks in Raleigh…I make your girlfriends mouths water, make them ask you, “one more baby, one more.”  No matter what genre of bar you might work at, our encounters are all the same. We have our typical ‘regulars’. We talk about the mention of our regular regulars; this does not mean that because we are pseudo employees of you, that we are not supported by your tip service. To get to the point, your drinks are not free. Unless you have a sugar daddy as a bartender at a bar where you are a regular at, we buy your drinks, we buy you drinks because we appreciate your business, we actually take money out of our tip jar to take care of you. Some places have an allowance so to speak, fortunately I don’t. this reiterates that fact that I do actually care about you because I am literally buying you a drink. The people that think that free drinks just appear are either being served by thieves that would rob you anyway, or by the desperado customers that think things come free and cheap. These people that think they are our regulars and swear that they are the best tippers on the planet, and are actually, not the best tippers… they are actually the worst. (with the assumption of our select few J )

We get the shit. We are the ones that never get the credit for having the top sales, the top service, the top anything. We are the ones that get sacrificed for the company. One note, one less sale, … we get killed off. Until we make it again in another agency.

Give your bartender some goddamn credit. He got your drink in a fashionable time. And if he/she didn’t … there are other aggravating factors. THE BAR IS BUSY. Believe me… I want to serve you all. I want to make your experience one to remember. You might be out celebrating… you might not. I treat you all like you are out celebrating. IM throwing a party for you! I don’t even know you, but have a good fucking time so that I can as well

We build so much of our businesses clientele… we are the faces, we are the actual brains that make your business work. We decipher our customers, we sell them. What do we get? WHAT DO WE GET??? We get nothing. We work for tips. We work for what is ‘acceptable’. That has been long and forgotten. The tip range has been long overdated. Twenty percent is the new fifteen. People don’t know that.

I am sick of making my parents worry about me. I have taken the life of the service industry. When you take this life, its almost like an oath, an oath to never looking back, to indenturing yourself, with loyalty to your employer, the one you love, the one you care about because you  believe in his company. You believe so much, that even while your money may decline, you have faith in his business, you have faith in what you may think is your ultimate future. Whether this is true or not, you feel bound to all of its endeavors. After all, you have been there the longest. You feel you owe it to them, you feel, while your efforts have always been true to that company, you still owe them the last part of your dying soul because you were helped out that one time; that time that was made sure that you would not forget it. There were other times, more serious times, but those aren’t allowed to be measured because that was a time a generous human nature. A nature that is not allowed to be returned; you were a young’ in.

What have you given? While your hours may have been flexible, your compassion for your fellow employees has begun to diminish. Favors asked are barely viable, due to the inevitability of disgruntled-ness from the employee who used be so jovial and agreeable. The workplace has been turned into the epitome of hell. You know longer care for your fellow employees, you no longer care for your job. You only care for a way out.

This is the dime a dozen document. Know that you may never control your destiny in the service industry. You may never see the actualization of a wrong made right… a customer made an ass out of because he was actually wrong, or the delight of a manager breaking down because he has had enough. But know that you are never alone because so many like you are the ones that make up the existence of the bars, restaurants, cafes, and other establishments that keep this world surviving. You are the ones. Not them, not the customers, guests, patrons, etcetera, YOU are the ones, WE are the ones. The world needs us to survive, to be put into the nest of their longevity of spending, to keep the world spinning. I love you all. Keep up the good work. This is my first blog, not nessesarily my last unless it reaches my employers past, and present unsettlingly.

We folks are a dime a dozen. plain bare bold… we are the lines of defense between our employers and the customers we serve. we are so easily forgotten because at one glance a wave of us may disappear. we bleed sweat and give our lengthy hours to those above and besides a handful, they may think of us as servants. No matter what genre of  bar you might work at, our encounters are all the same.