The Mews Way

There’s a term the employees like to use at our place of business. It’s called “The Mews Way”. The definition is simple; it’s when you want to half-ass something; like fixing a door, redoing a floor, questionable cleaning of the Green Room – or really any part of the bar, having no stall for the Men’s Bathroom (You need to drop a deuce? Sure. Go over to Java Joes), an outdoor bar that was once referred to as The Dumpster, carpet that was installed during the Prohibition Era, a bottle of lotion in sight of the patrons labeled Dick Cream, beer cooler doors that are so old you have to lift up first, then shimmy back, an import beer cooler that has no working florescent light in it; you have to use some jank clip light to be able to see the bottles at all; no merch area to speak of – another clip light blaring down on a cheap plastic table under the stairs, booths upstairs that have red duct tape covering numerous rips and tears (the booths are burgundy), 200lb tables from some long-forgotten coffee shop, that are so fricking heavy, you can’t lift them, you have to roll them, a pool table that rarely has pool balls (we finally got rid of it, after 9 years), bartenders who read books and play Scrabble during business hours…when it’s busy (guilty as charged), bathrooms that customers have said would be a “good place to shoot heroin,” a side-door that a child could sneak into, and the coolest, most forgiving boss I’ve ever had, who lets an idiot like me post fun stuff like this on our Facebook page.

It’s The Mews Way. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.


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