I get into the bar at 9pm sharp, looks pretty slow, about 10 people in the house. I say hello to my fellow bartender, he collects his things, takes off.
I’ve got a couple friends at the bar. We talk, tell stories. A few people come up to the bar, order pints, a few martinis.
By 10:15pm, it picks up. Nothing too crazy, I’d say 35 people in the bar. Everybody’s being awesome, courteous, in a good mood. I’m in a good mood. Why wouldn’t I? I pour drinks for a living. And talk.
It’s midnight. Ok here it comes. Not to sabotage the perfect night, but this is the time some drunk guy comes in, I have to deal with it. It’s like clockwork. The odds of going through a night without any kind of confrontation are low. But let’s stay positive.
At 12:30am, here he comes, stumbling in the bar. What do you have on tap? I say, do you need another beer? He says, what? I say, why don’t I just get you a cup of water, you can chill for a moment. He says, all right.
Well, that was pretty easy.
The clock ticks down. I think I’ve got everybody done, then four people come into the bar. Fine by me. More people, more money.
It’s 1:40am, I stop the music. A guy says, welp. I think that’s it. And then EVERYBODY LEAVES. What the holy hell? What is up with this night?
I rush to the door, lock it. Don’t want to ruin the game in the last 20 seconds.
I walk back to the bar, look down on the floor by one of the chairs. Huh. Looks like money.
I pick it up, it’s a crumpled $10 and a $20.
I shove it in my tip jar, and start cleaning the bar.