Monthly Archives: September 2013

SEE ID

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.

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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.

The Lonely Plant

I’m behind the bar, tendin, like I do, it’s winding down, one more band, a buddy of mine, is at the end of the bar, with his head hangin down.  I scoot over, what’s up, my man?  You all right?  He says, I might lose a ball.  What’s that?  I say.  Yeah, I racked myself.  Shit, are you serious?  Hell yeah, I’m serious.  I wouldn’t joke about that.  It happened two weeks ago, and I’m still in pain.  Well, I say, what happened?  I was hangin up a plant, on my patio, I was standin up, on this metal railing.  I slipped, and racked myself, full body weight.  Oh shit, dude.  Did you go to the hospital?  Oh yeah, he says.  Oh yeah.  I find out Monday if I lose a ball.  Dude, that’s terrible.  Are you gonna still be able to have kids?  Oh yeah, I still got the right nut, baby!  Then I say, so…did you get the plant up?  What?  He says.  The plant.  Did you get it hung up?

Nah.  It’s still sittin there.  On my patio.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Renegade Book Club

Have you ever started a book club?  No?  Never?  Good.  Don’t waste your time. Met this guy at the bar, we become friends, he’s a reader, I’m a reader, brilliant idea, let’s start a book club!!!  Worst idea. Here’s how it goes. Ok, you tell all your friends, I’ll tell all my friends, we’ll come up with a cool name for our book club, we’ll do some event shit on Facebook, have it at the bar here, folks will show up, line out the door. Who doesn’t like to read a good book, right?  We’ll do it once a month, surely, people can read ONE BOOK A MONTH. Yeah, yeah, sounds good. Let’s do it!  Hip, hip, hooray for Renegade Book Club!

You get there, to the bar, for the first meeting, there’s nine people there, ok, not bad, auspicious beginning, you get a drink, you sit down, all-right, folks, let’s talk about the book!!!

Chirp-chirp.

You can actually hear the crickets chirping, it’s so quiet. Ok, guys, let’s start with the basics.  Who liked the book?  They all stare at their drinks, blasé. Ok…um…how many people actually READ the book?  One person raises their hand.

At the second meeting, there were four of us. Two read the book, two didn’t. The last one?  Just me and my buddy who started it.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Let’s Do A Shot

I’m drivin downtown, on my way to work. It’s a Sunday. Nice day out. My cell phone rings in my pocket, I reach for it. It’s the booker. Calling me. Ok, in almost ten years of workin with him, he has never called me. Just text. This must be important.

What’s up, man?  What’s goin on?  He says, sorry to bother you Clint, but we have a situation. I just got a text from Ben (name change), and he told me that Secondman (name change) wants to beat the shit out of you. WHAT?!?!  I barely know the guy!  Why does he wanna beat me up?  He says, he heard, through the grapevine, you’ve been talkin shit. Talkin shit?  What the f?  I’ve never said one bad word about the guy. Andrea (name change) must’ve said somethin to him. But I don’t know what. I’ve been nice to him every time he’s played the bar!  Well, Ben’s on tour with him right now, playin bass (instrument change). I’m just passin on the info he texted me. Well, thanks, I guess. I hang up the phone.  Great, and now I have to see him, cause he’s playin the bar tonight. Should I call in sick?  Nah. Don’t be a pussy. Do what you do best, Clint. Talk your way outta shit.

As a brief recap, Secondman is a musician out of NYC (city change). He’s played the bar a bunch of times. I meet this girl, Andrea, randomly, at the bar, that dated him at one time, and now she’s living in Des Moines. Ben is a musician from Des Moines that coincidently met Secondman, and started touring with him. I’m friends with Ben also.  There’s the backstory.

I park in the back, I see his big trailer. I’m gonna find him, approach him, talk this out. Strangely, I see him in the back, and take him by surprise. Hey, Jack (first name change)!  He turns around, seems flustered for a second, then puts on a smile. Hey, Clint (no name change). Listen, I say, I don’t know what the hell is goin on, but I just received a phone call from the booker that said you’re angry with me, and want to beat me up?  What?  He says. Huh, I don’t know anything about that. Well, not to throw this guy under the bus, but he said Ben reported that news to him. Yeah, he says, that was just locker-room talk. Ok, well, whatever it was, it was misinformation. I’ve never talked shit about you. Never. I’ve actually said really good things about you. I think you’re a talented musician, and a great guy, so I don’t know where the hell this is coming from. He says, Andrea said a few things, like you thought I was psychotic. Nope, never said a word about that. I don’t know what Andrea’s tellin you, but it’s wrong. To be honest, I don’t know anything about you!  Only that you come through, and play the bar, couple times a year. And you’re friends with Andrea. Hmm, he says, guess there was a miscommunication. Yep, I say, guess there was. All-right, he says, I appreciate you talkin to me. Let’s just shake hands and move on. We shake, and I say, great. I’ll see you inside.  I go inside, and start my daily duties. I’m shaking.

He comes in a half-hour later, says, I’m sorry about all of that. I say, no problem. I just didn’t want to get my ass kicked, you psycho. He laughs. I say, let’s do a shot.

That always seems to make things better.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis.  Bartender

Animal Crackers For VIPs

Many people don’t know this, but we have animal crackers, and bar mix for VIP customers in the back. How do you become VIP?  I don’t know, become a regular, give us all your hard earned cash, then we’ll give you free animal crackers and pretzels.

I am now addicted to my nightly animal cracker fix. Around 10:30pm, I’ll go in the back, and scoop some animal crackers into a plastic cup. I put em next to the credit card machine, so when I run a credit card, I sneak a few.

Couple months ago, we run out of animal crackers. I’m like, where’d all the animal crackers go?  Basically, in my stomach. I send the acting manager a text. Need more animal crackers. And then the weeks go by, no animal crackers. I text again. PLEASE GET ANIMAL CRACKERS, NEED MORE ANIMAL CRACKERS, PEOPLE ARE ASKIN FOR EM IN DROVES. After a month of this, I give up.

Last night, I go in the back room, and GLORY HALLELUJAH WE HAVE ANIMAL CRACKERS. I get one of those big red Solo cups, fill it to the top with animal crackers, and just gorge myself with em.

And damn, were they good.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.