Monthly Archives: February 2014

Shot Etiquette

A customer came up to me tonight, we’re talking, she says, what do you think about this?  I asked a bartender if he would do a shot with me. The bartender did the shot with me, and charged me for both. Is that wrong?

There is nothing wrong with that. It all depends on the bartender. If you say to a bartender, I want to buy you a shot, then the bartender is completely justified to charge you for both shots. I don’t feel comfortable with that, though. I have never charged someone for a shot I’ve done. I will charge them for their own shot. If I’m the one who says, let’s do a shot, then it’s my responsibility to get the round. If you want to get completely specific with the bartender, which I know they will appreciate, you can say something like, I want to buy a shot. Would you do one with me? Then, everything is clear, and the bartender can answer honestly, and everybody feels good.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

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Theatrical

Guy comes up to the bar, long brown dreadlocks, white eyes. Is he an albino? But they have really fair skin and white hair. He does not.

I ask him, is that your real eye color? He says, no. They’re contacts. They’re not prescription. I say, cool. He continues. I have about eight pairs. Different colors. He lists off the colors. How much do those things run?  I ask. He says, not much. Thirty, forty bucks a pair. That’s not bad, I say. So…you wear em all the time?

He says, yeah. I like to get theatrical.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Fifteen

I’m talking with an acquaintance of mine, at the end of the bar, he’s with his girlfriend, enjoying the evening.  Kids come up in the conversation.  I tell him, I have two kids.  He says, yeah, been there, done that.  I’ve got a twelve-year-old.  Holy shit, man!  A twelve-year-old?  How old are you?  He says, thirty-four.  Damn, I say.  You were young when you had your kid.  He turns to his girlfriend, says, she’s got five.  I’m looking at this girl, she’s definitely in her twenties.  Five?  Jeez.  How old are you?  She says, twenty-six.  I say, how is that possible?  Five kids?  How old were you when you had your first one?

She says, fifteen.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis.  Bartender.

Too Much

I’m cleanin dishes, I’ve got two martini glasses in my hand, strangely, one of them breaks. The palm of my hand starts bleeding. My fellow bartender just took a break. I have a customer text him with my phone, just cut my hand. He comes back, I go to the back room, wrap my hand with gauze, wrap some scotch tape with it. Hey not bad. I kinda look bad ass.

Half-hour later, customer goes, what happened to your hand?  I tell her,

Masterbating.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Do You Have A Bathroom?

Girl comes up to the bar, I make my approach. Hey, how you doin?  What can I get you?  She says, do you have a bathroom? I look at her straight-faced. No, I say. We don’t. Just go in the corner. She looks at me, confused, says, I’m sorry? Yeah, I say. Just go in the corner. Squat down, no one cares. She says, ok. She looks bummed. I say,

Around the stage, down the hallway, on your right.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

The Woo Girls

I’m at the bar, chatting it up with my fellow bartender, he worked the night before, I ask him, how was your night? Busy, good crowd, but the last two hours, lot of woo girls. Woo girls? What’s that? I ask. He says, you know, those girls, real loud go, WOOOOO. Oh, yeah, I say. I know those girls.

Then I say, there’s the name of your next band. The Woo Girls. Nah, he says. That’s gonna be the name of my next electronica project.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

A Bunch Of Wrappers

I pick my seven-year-old son up from school today, it’s Valentine’s Day, he’s got a shoe box, filled with cards and candy. We’re talking, he says, somebody puked in my class today. Oh yeah? I say. Why’d they do that? He says, too much candy. Well…that’ll do it. My son says, I went through his bag of candy, and there was like one candy left, and

A bunch of wrappers.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.