Forgot The Straws

I’m behind the bar, setting up. Ice, stocking beer, etcetera. I see I’m low on straws. We have them stored in the back office.

I go back, walk down the hallway to the back room, oh wait, gotta take a leak. I go, come out, I hear my phone ringing. I walk briskly back to the bar, catch it in time. It’s the wife, we talk. What’s up, how’s your day, guy coming to fix the ceiling in the den at 5.

We talk for five minutes, then say our good-byes.

Now, where was I?  Need to cut some fruit.

I cut fruit, going to be a busy night, so cut extra.

I get done, what else?

Oh I forgot to get the straws!

I start walking back, I see the green room lights haven’t been turned on  I turn them on, pick up a little trash behind the couch.

I exit. Oh, I gotta get paper towels for the men’s room. I get them from the back, walk to the men’s room, go in.

Oh shnikes. Need to get the key to open up the paper towel holder. I leave, walk to the bar, get the key hanging next to the register, walk back to the bathroom, go in, stock the paper towels. There. Got that done. I walk back to the bar, send a couple work related texts, then get ready for the night.

It’s an early show, really busy, probably 90 people in the bar. I’m in the weeds, everybody’s drinking, I’m hustling.

Guy comes up, orders a couple drinks, and two waters. I make the drinks, go to grab for straws, and


-Clint Curtis


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