First Night Bartending @ Rogues Club.

I hoped I would get training, instead I was thrown into the lions den. How would I cope?...Issue #93

ifOnlyi…had asked the other bar staff to show me how everything worked instead of winging it, pretending I knew it all, my first night would not have been so stressful or humiliating at the end of my first night—total Rookie.

Karen drove me to Rogues to ensure I got there safely on my first day and told me to take a taxi home. I was told to wear black pants and shoes and bring a bow tie, as the Club would provide me with a shirt, a metal arm band, and a Black Vest.

So that’s the way I walked into the club. There was no shirt, just black trousers, shoes, and a bow tie, precisely what I had been told to wear. I thought it would create a good laugh, and it was well before the restaurant and bar opened up.

Did I ever get the laughs? It worked! I broke the ice with my fellow workers.

“Are you, Ollie?” someone asked as other staff leaped out. I was shirtless and wearing a bow tie. “Where do I go?” I asked a staff member. “Ollie, Lee has the rest of your attire. Go upstairs and get ready. The manager says you're on front duty, meaning the “Executive Bar,” he replied

Rogue’s Executive Lounge is front and center. Ollie was on the bottom right of the picture for his first night.

Fully dressed, with my vest, red bow tie, and arm band, I felt important. How do I live up to this new Ollie look? I wondered. I had a special feeling that was hard to explain.

I shook hands with the other two “ professional bartenders” and asked what I could do to get in the swing of things. The reply was “Ollie, cut and prep all fruits, polish the brass rails top and bottom with brass cleaner, and get the ice.” I could do that, and after polishing and cutting, I asked where the ice was.

I was instructed to grab the large garbage bin, go outside, and up the stairs to the room where the ice machine is, fill it, and return. It would take three trips to fill all the ice bins downstairs.

When I saw the size of these bins, I thought my shoulders would be pulled out by their weight and size alone. Filling them up took about 10 minutes each time. I had to scoop the ice from the machines with a small shovel.

The staff were preparing for the opening, and the music was playing. I enjoyed listening to “ Dudley Moore’s Jazz Trio Band.” I was to take the left side of the bar tonight. When the doors opened, people started walking in, still dressed up from work, as it was only 6 p.m. Lee was at the door greeting his guests, checking their membership number off the key chain, and waving them in. The ambiance was electric.

I could tell the high caliber of patrons from the constant flow of people. The barman asked, "Are you here for dinner tonight?" Most answered, “Yes, and a few drinks beforehand would be welcome.” I kept out of the way by arranging and rearranging the bottles and thinking about the bar set up most of the night. I felt lost!

I poured a few beers; I understood those words enough to grab a glass and pull the tap. I understood nothing else; the accents came at this yank fast and furiously, and they bewildered me. I decided to keep a towel in my hand and act useful by cleaning and recleaning the countertops, lifting glasses, clean or dirty, and setting them back down.

I didn’t take the dirty glasses off the bar and put them in the dishwasher, but I kept that bar top spotless. Every ashtray was clean enough to eat off. I picked up anything that dropped on the bar floor. I stacked coffee cups, sorted out the doilies, and cleaned the glass shelves where the liquor bottles sat. I thought the night would never end. I felt all eyes were on me this night, because they were.

Was I in Oblivion?

I noticed, the bar staff having a smoke behind the bar, they poured a drink each and drank as they were working their butts off keeping up with the Friday nights demand. I often got stares from the two of them. The cocktail waitresses kept chatting me up. At least that’s what I thought, but they were trying to order drinks for me to prepare.

The restaurant and bar were at full capacity—this place was humming, and I wanted out of there. I hoped for any way to relieve the pressure. I was going to pop, but I needed to stay until closing. One of the guys working with me that night told me I had Saturday, the following day, off. “Already,” I asked. I was elated.

As the night wound down, I saw people leaving the disco, and I knew we were approaching closing time.

Throughout the night, patrons would ask where I was from, so I crafted a way to keep them engaged as long as possible. Give them full details, locations, weather, family history, anything to pass the time, and be an honorable gentleman and a helpful staff member.

I certainly didn’t feel helpful in other ways. I offered to take all the trash for the bar staff, looking as helpful as possible. I offered to get replacements for the empty bottles. I wanted to do anything other than be behind this bar. I made sure I did as much as possible when the night ended so the others could see that I was, in fact, worthy. I was fooling myself.

The night finished at 3 a.m., and I asked if I could pour a drink. “Sure,” the other staff members said. I grabbed a tall glass, loaded it with ice, took the Jim Beam, and poured as they looked at me and asked, "Ollie, do you add anything to that drink?" Oh, yeah, Coke.

I wondered which button was the Coke. I worked all night and still didn’t know which button to hit to add a dash of Coke. I was embarrassed and sweating profusely from doing feck all. It was stress sweat.

We had to clean and prep for the following night’s opening. Everyone was drinking and smoking, and the chef had prepared 100 sandwiches for all staff to share after work. Now, that was such a special touch. They were salad sandwiches; I think I ate 10. Perfect for ending my night.

Embarrassed and exhausted, I couldn’t wait for the cab to arrive and take me home. What would Sunday bring?

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...ifOnlyi…short stories follow my true-life journey. If you've just found me, you can check out my publication and choose a story of interest or start from # 1.