Monthly Archives: September 2013


I love Tums. I eat em like candy. I like to take a “preemptive-Tums” right after dinner.

I brought a whole thing of Tums to the bar couple months ago. Shit was gone in like two weeks. Who’s eatin all my Tums, damn it?!  I know it’s not just me.

A buddy of mine, he’s a musician, we always talk Tums. We have that in common, our love of Tums. He comes in the other day, I say, duuuuude, just got the bomb Tums. Orange Cream Sugarfree Tums. Delicious. Has the same texture as Bottle Caps, kind of chalky. You gotta try em! He says, I still gotta get to Sam’s, get the giant container of Tums. Oh, shit, I say, they got em there? In bulk? Oh yeah, he says. Damn, I say.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Martini Shaker

Four people come in last night, three guys, one gal. They order martinis. A Manhattan, which is one of our martinis, two Frenchys, and a 2013, that has champagne in it. I make em, put the martini glasses in from of em, and start to pour. When someone orders two martinis the same, I make em both in a double sized shaker. Saves time. So right as I’m about to pour the second martini from the big shaker, the guy goes, would it be possible to drink it out of the shaker?

A lot of things ran through my mind before I answered his question. The first one was, in ten years of bartending, I’ve never heard that request. Secondly, it sounds unhygienic. What’s somebody gonna think if they see some guy gluggin on a big martini shaker? A shaker I use for their martini. But then I think, you know, what’s the difference? People drink out of martini glasses. We clean em, and then use em again. Of course, we clean the martini shaker after each and every martini is made. So what’s the big deal, right?

Finally I say, sure. I’ve never heard that one before. Go for it. He hands me the top of the martini shaker, and says, you can keep that.

I go back to washing dishes, looking over occasionally, at a guy drinking a martini, out of a big-ass martini shaker.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

A Devastating Blow

I’m bartendin, like I do, five nights a week, it’s pretty busy, there’s these guys at the bar, actin real loud. One of em says, watch this, and throws a balled-up, dirty napkin in our trash can behind the bar. He makes it, and boy, you’d think he made the winning basket at the NCAA Championship. Oh, high-fives all-around, fist pumps, the whole shebang.

I go up to him and say, real nonchalant, yeah, good shot, bro. But that’s not a trash can. It’s where we put our empty cans for recycling.

His face falls flat. A devastating blow. He did not win the game.

I did.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Macking 101

I’m behind the bar, pretty slow, this guy comes up, plops down, chillin by himself, we talk for a bit, then two girls come up to him and say, are these two seats taken?  And they’re cute girls, one blond, one brunette.  He says, no, they’re all yours.  They sit down, start chattin.  And I’m watchin him, sittin there, doin nothin.  WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT, DUDE?  AN INVITATION TO GO INTO THE BATHROOM FOR SOME HANKY PANKY?  After five minutes, I can’t take it anymore.  I approach the girls, hey, what’s up?  How’s your night?  That sorta thing.  After a couple minutes of chatting, I say, what’s your names?  They say their names, I say, I’m Clint, then I go, have you met this gentleman sitting next to you?  They say no, he introduces himself, they chat for like twenty seconds, then the girls resume talking amongst themselves, and the guy sits there like a log that hasn’t been flushed down.

The girls leave, I say, what’s up, man?  What else did I have to do for you?  He says, yeah…um, thanks for that.  I didn’t know what else to say.  Dude, I say, come up with some shit.  It doesn’t matter what it is.  TALK TO THEM.  Why do girls come to the bar usually?  To meet men.  You’re a man, they sit right next to you, and this whole bar’s empty!!!!  You dropped the ball, dude.  He says, yeah, I know.  How old are you?  I ask.  He says, 21.  Well, ok, you gotta start somewhere.  One piece of advice.  Don’t be afraid to strike out.  They don’t want to talk to you?  Who gives a shit.  Their problem, not yours.  Go up to women, talk to them, get their number if it goes well, by the end of the night, you’ve got six new numbers in your phone.  Believe it.  He says, Ok, I’ll try it next time.  You better, I say.  Life’s too short to dick around.

I go back to my bartending, he gets back on his phone, and another lesson will never be learned.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis.  Bartender.

Dick Tap

I’m at the bar, end of night, I see a guy I know, and as I’m walking by him, I give him the dick tap.  What’s a dick tap, you ask?  Well…it’s when you lightly tap a Man’s private area, usually with the knuckles of the hand. You usually try to do it when they least expect it. It sometimes hurts and can take the wind out of a person, but it’s a friendly pain, not too hard.

After the dick tap, I look back at the guy, and he doesn’t seem amused. You have to be really careful with the dick tap. Usually, you need to know where you stand with the person, and how they’d receive the playful tap. I’ve known this one guy I’ve worked with for years, and I would never do it to him. He’s just not the dick tap kind of guy.

As I’m driving home, I’m thinking about the aforementioned dick tap. I think he was pissed about it, and I feel guilty. I put it out there, but I guess he just didn’t find the humor in the DT (dick tap).

I resolve, by the time I pull into my driveway, to be more careful, with my screening process,

for my dick taps.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.


It’s gotta be about three years ago, Templeton Rye ran out of their supply. For those of you not in Iowa, Templeton is a delicious, rye whiskey made here in Iowa. I guess it was Al Capone’s favorite whiskey in the Prohibition Era. Anyway, three years ago, they run out of Templeton, and then, of course, the demand goes through the roof. I remember people coming to the bar, sayin, hey, man, you got any Templeton?  No, we do not.

I recall being at my cousins 21st birthday party during that time, and I found Templeton at a bar. I bought two shots of it, one for me, one for my cousin. Two shots, $24. People were paying 100 bucks a pop on eBay, and standing in line at the grocery store at 6am, ‘cause they heard the store was gettin six bottles in.

Fast forward three years later, the grocery store is stocked full of it, we’ve got two bottles behind the bar, collecting dust.

It’s a fact of life. You can’t get something, you can’t do something, you want it, you gotta do it.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.


As I was walking into work today on 4th Street, I see this gentleman, finish off a Twix Bar, crumple up the wrapper, and throw it on the ground. Ohhhh, man, I love this guy. Classy. He’s a busy man, sure, there’s a garbage can, 10 steps away, but he’s obviously too good for that. Maybe, he even owns the street, and he kindly is thinking of others, who have to clean up after him. He employs them, so, in a roundabout way, he’s giving them something to do. A true humanitarian.

I jog over, and pick up his trash. I say, Oh, sir, let me get that for you. He says, oh…that’s not mine.  I’m sorry sir, I thought I saw you drop it. Did you want to keep it?

And then, for some reason, he walked away, without saying another word.

I understand. In his position as an advanced human being, it was an honor that he let me pick up his trash.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.


I’m at the bar, this mature woman asks for her tab.  As I’ve done, a friggin thousand times, I get her card, run it, hand it to her. She flips out. Did you not see the back of my card?  It says SEE ID. Oh, it does? I didn’t notice. Yes, well, it’s there for a reason.

I just look at her. With the strength of Zeus, I keep my mouth shut. I’m sure the not saying anything is causing my face to turn beet red. A surge of anger flows through me, as if I was taking a shower in the asshole of hell. After a moment of containment, I say, I’m really sorry bout that. I’ve actually never done that before. Next time I get one, I’ll be sure to check it. She says, yes, that would be a wise idea.

Tonight a girl asks if I can run her card. I say sure, I grab her card, check the back, and notice that it says SEE ID. Before I run it, I go back to her, hold up the card to her, and point to the words on the back of her card. She says, oh yeah, and gets her ID from her bag. Then she says, oh, thank you so much for asking. Not everybody does that. I really appreciate it.

Yep. One of the best lessons this stubborn asshole has ever learned in bartending.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Just Jiggle It

I’m at the bar, door guy comes up to me, says, dude. One of the urinals is overflowing. Oh shit, I say. Did you try to jiggle the handle?  That’s as far as my expertise in plumbing goes. Just jiggle it. Yep, he says, jiggled it. All right, I’ll go check. I get the bar covered, go to the bathroom. Yep, overflowing. What do I do?  Duh, jiggle it. Maybe the door guy just didn’t know how to jiggle it. Guy comes in to use the bathroom, I say, hey man, do you know anything about plumbing? He looks at me like I’m an idiot. He says, not really. Did you try jiggling it? Oh yeah, I’ve been jiggling the thing for five minutes. The jiggle is not working. Shit is overflowing.

I run down to the martini bar. There’s a guy there, knows plumbing. I go in, frantic, dude, the toilet is overflowing in the Men’s room. What should I do?

He says, did you try jiggling it?

Yes, I say. I did.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

The Long Walk

I’m at the bar, cuttin fruit, I realize, I’ve left my coffee in my car.  I get done with the fruit, tell the door guy I’m goin out to my car, and take off. I gotta decent parking spot today, pretty happy with it, but it’s three blocks away. No problem, it’s beautiful out, and good to get a little exercise.

I get to my car, and my coffee cup is not there. Damn!!  I must’ve left it at home. Whatever. I’ll get a cup at the coffee shop next door. As I’m turning the corner onto fourth street, on my way back, I see an acquaintance of mine, half a block away, walking towards me.  We do the wave at each other. Then…what do you do?  You don’t just stare at em. It’s not The Sound Of Music. You don’t run into each others arms. It’s an awkward walk.  A lonnnng walk, until you get to that person.

I just put my head down. Stare at my feet walking. After an hour of this, we finally get to each other. Hey, man, what’s up?  Not much. How are you? Good.

Now that that is over.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.