Episode nine. And we made it past the seven-episode hump, which is usually where most podcasters die. So here we are.
If you're new to the show, quick orientation: I've been behind the bar for over 25 years. I've seen things, heard things, and cleaned up things I never want to talk about again. This show is where all of that finally gets to come out. Comedy show, vent session, industry therapy group all in one. No filter. Just stories.
Today we're talking about the weekend. Double J and Dave. This is all fresh. Let's get into it.
Friday: The Night I Didn't Work
I did not work Friday night. You walk into work, look around, realize there are too many people on, draw straws, and I'm out. I wasn't complaining.
When you walk into a night shift as a bartender, you don't want to sit there cutting fruit for an hour. You don't want to stock beer and liquor when the day shift is supposed to have done that already, because that's part of their job. They understand this. It's generally slower during the day, so they do the prep work. You build your regulars, take some tables, make decent money. But you still do the work.
I've walked into this place far too many times and had to do that stuff while the daytime bartenders are literally trying to escape out the door. So honestly? Cutting out early on Friday was a gift.
Saturday: She Was Still Drunk
Saturday started the same way. Get to work, get called in early, because one of the bartenders from the day shift was still too drunk from Friday to function properly.
I saw a photo of her trying to set up the till. All the dollars were on the left side. The coins went in order from left to right: pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, empty. Yeah. Completely backwards. When someone pointed it out, she just went, "Oh damn, you're right."
There's a text in the group chat asking if anyone can come in. I'm already driving to work at this point, so I stay quiet. Then she follows up: "I really need someone, I'm still a little tipsy from last night."
Still a little tipsy. At noon. On Saturday. Why would you even bother showing up if you can't do the job?
The other bartender already there is a whole other situation. I'm pretty convinced he lied on his application about his experience. When we first opened, he didn't know how to change a keg. Watching him grab a bottle to pour is painful. No grip, no confidence, no flow. He means well, maybe, but he's not trying to learn. All he does is huff and puff and complain about everything.
Management sends the drunk one home. Within the first two minutes, the other guy does the heavy sigh at least six times. Six. I'm rolling my eyes so hard I can see my own brain. Your job is not that hard. You're out of here in thirty minutes when the next person comes in. Just shut up and do the work.
The person who came in next is one of my favorites to work with. Once we got past all the initial nonsense, we had a good shift. Focused, worked well together, made it work. That's all you can ask for.
Sunday: Double J Arrives
Sunday was something else entirely.
I'd been asked to come in on my day off to work four to close because of a developing situation with another staff member. Fine, I agreed. But at 11:30 in the morning, my phone rings. I'm asleep. I worked until 2am. I wake up around one and see a text from my boss: "Hey Steve, can you come in earlier than normal?" How early? "Like now."
They bribed me with the promise of lunch and dinner, no limits on the menu. Okay. I get there around two. Not very busy. Things are going smoothly until mid-to-late afternoon, when Double J and their husbands show up.
The husbands come in first. Nice guys. The Double J wives had been at the place next door and were making their way over. And when they arrived, I'll tell you, this is exactly the kind of group every bartender wants. Interactive, fun, joking around, breaking your balls. Everybody's drinking. The girls are doing shots and drinking wine. The energy is right.
It starts with them asking for a Sauvignon Blanc. All I've got is Pinot Grigio. I'm pouring it and one of the husbands leans over and goes, "You know, if you'd poured that over there instead of in front of them, they never would have known the difference."
That's my kind of table.
Time goes on, they get some food, and you can just watch the girls get progressively more relaxed. It's a great afternoon. They're basically my only guests at the bar for a stretch, so I can give them my full attention. Everyone's having a good time.
Enter Dave
And then Dave shows up.
Dave sits down two seats away, around the corner of the bar. Seems decent enough at first. Orders a couple Mic Ultras, just hanging out. Then he orders wings, which he never touches when they arrive. And he starts talking to the girls.
The husbands have stepped away with the kids, so Dave sees his opening. He's putting on his best moves, I'll give him that. Talking about doing a three-day fast, how it cleans out all your toxins. The girls seem genuinely interested. This conversation goes on for like half an hour.
Dave keeps getting more and more flirty. Then the three of them start doing shots together. Green teas first, then something called a Puerto Rican Hooker, which I had never heard of in my life until that moment. Apparently it's a shot of tequila with a pickleback. Now you know, because I had to learn it on the fly.
They do a few rounds. Everyone's still drinking their main drinks. Dave still hasn't touched his wings. And Dave is getting bolder.
The husbands come back. Everyone's interacting again, but you can feel the energy shift a little. And honestly, I can't blame the husbands one bit, because Dave had started giving off a vibe. The girls were past the point of fully catching it, or maybe they just didn't care because their husbands were right there. Either way, Dave did not seem to notice or care that a line existed.
At one point, one of the girls had something square between her, let's say, in her shirt. I noticed it and asked what it was, thinking it was a vape or a pack of cigarettes. She laughed and showed me, it was just part of her bra. Everyone's laughing about it. Fine, funny moment.
Dave then looks at the other girl and says, well now I want to see yours.
There it is. That's the line.
She shut it down immediately, which, good for her. But Dave, sitting two seats from two women whose husbands are right there, said that out loud. And didn't flinch. I don't know if that's confidence or a complete lack of self-awareness, but it wasn't a good look.
Eventually it was time for the group to head out. The girls were super fun from start to finish, and hey, if you're listening, and I know you are because you said you'd be checking for it on Tuesday, thanks for making Sunday actually enjoyable.
What Dave Did Next
After Double J and the husbands left, Dave stuck around. And that's when things got interesting in a different way.
One of the servers at this place, I'm going to be honest, gives off very specific energy. Constantly hyper, zooming around like a puppy who just discovered their legs. She apparently knows Dave. They're talking, she wanders off, comes back, they talk again. And within about a two-hour window, the two of them go outside together twice, each time back inside in under two minutes.
She does not smoke cigarettes. Nobody smokes a cigarette in two minutes anyway.
When she comes back the second time and starts talking to me and management, she is moving at a very different speed than when the night started. And when I look over at Dave, he's got that jaw thing going. Swallowing a lot. Trying to hold it together. As somebody who's been around that scene, I know exactly what I'm looking at.
So to recap: Dave came in, tried to flirt with two married women in front of their husbands, and then, apparently, sold something to an employee while management was standing fifteen feet away. In the same shift. At the same bar.
How do you have that much confidence in all the wrong directions at once?
I've been in this industry for over 25 years. I know this stuff happens. But being that obvious about it, in that small a space, with that many people watching, is a special kind of bold.
The Expo Situation
The rest of the night was slower, but I do need to talk about Expo for a minute.
I ordered two slushies. Ten minutes go by, nothing. I ask for an ETA over the radio. "Which ones are they?" The blue ones. Five minutes later, they come out to the table. Fine. Then five minutes after that, another set of two slushies comes out. Same table. Expo is standing there looking at me like he's waiting for instruction.
One of the husbands, who had come back by this point, just looks at me and goes: "Oh my god, Steve."
Yeah. I know.
I also want to mention: when an order gets sent to the kitchen, the bartender or server's name is on the check. That's how you know who rang it in. That's how it works at every bar and restaurant. We had an expo tell me my food was dying in the window because he thought it was an employee meal, since my name was on the check. My name is on every check I ring in. As is every other server and bartender's name on every check they ring in. He then asked if I could stop putting my name on the checks because it was confusing.
I declined.
One More Thing
Before I wrap up, I want to say something honestly. I've been sober for over 19 months. I'm not passing judgment on anyone who's dealing with addiction, because I know what that's like from the inside. What bothers me about the situation with Dave isn't the addiction. It's the brazenness. It's doing it in the open, in front of staff and management, and then not tipping out the people who watched the whole thing happen and said nothing.
That part I take personally.
If you've got a story like this, something blatant, something that made you go "did that just actually happen?", send it to me. I want to hear it.