The Bar-fly

July 3, 2009

SO, I start this jaunt through the realms of the cocktail bartenders, the “mixologists”, the “bar-wizards”, and other such beings of the night, with somewhat of a side-note.

Both a bartenders best friend, and their most irritating of accomplices.

The friendly neighborhood bar-fly.

You will have seen her (and less frequently him), regardless of whether you work bars or not. Traditionally they will be found on the service-end of the bar, drinking by themselves, watching almost possessively as the bartenders go about their jobs, a half-filled glass of high-alcohol content liquid resting in their hands, as they blend subtly into the background.

There’s usually no background story to how they ended up there, one can only presume an excess of alcohol consumption being their only limited escape from a humdrum existence of long days and ailing friendships.

As a rule of thumb they are (or were) sleeping with one or more of the staff, no-emotion flings resulting from late-night lock-ins or excessive drinking on shift. Leaving an air of awkwardness howering around them, the staff avoiding them like a dubious smelling co-worker, eyes avoiding theirs as if to push their existence from their life, to avoid the inevitable small-talk that pulls the shifts passing of time down to a snails pace.

So how does one deal with them?

Hard to say, its not as if they in themselves are of any irritance. Or that they do anything one could say is of any effect upon the running of the bar.

They just don’t leave.

They aren’t of any use regards testing cocktails, their taste buds have no-doubt been ruined by years of hard liquor. Leaving them with upturned noses at the prospect of much past their usual.

You know who you are, you quite probably see yourself as an aid to the bar. A “piece of the furniture” I heard one refer to herself.

Move along love.



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