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Why Does My Bartender Hate Me?

You know those pallid, ghostly folks that hang out behind bars? The scowling, hard-to-please people who don’t seem to understand that you’re an all-round classic legend? You have to talk to them - they stand between you and the booze - but why are they being such dicks?

Let’s settle this once and for all with our handy guide:

Is This Your First Rodeo?

The rules of the pub, like the rules of society, have been developed over hundreds of years to prevent all the major consequences of human drunkenness and stupidity.

If they were written up on the walls of the pub, however, there’d be no space for all the 1940s horror film posters and taxidermied otters that make us all feel so at home.

Still, not knowing the basics can get you sniggered at, whispered about, or even hated, so it’s worth swotting up now.

If you’re buying a round, know what you’re getting before you attempt to order. Order your Guinness first because it takes longest to arrive, and trust in your bartender’s ability to remember at least as many drinks as you can carry.

Please use the 90 seconds you've been stood, tutting about slow service, to locate your wallet/purse. The need for you to pay is the most predictable element of this entire affair, do not wait until I ask to realise that your cash is buried in the bottom of a rucksack the size of Belgium.

Crucially, never order cocktails at the pub. They take more time to find the kit and make than they do to drink, and it’s just fruit and booze, my dude, get over it.

You're Trying To Order Something That's Not On The Menu

Following neatly on... Sure, we'll always try to accomodate your request if we can. But if we can't, what you're doing is the equivalent of turning up at the dentists, asking them take a look at your cruciate ligament damage and getting all pissy when they say it's beyond their remit.

Help us to help you, guys.

You're Not Interacting Like A Human

If you’ve just stepped away from a 10 hour marathon at a computer screen, you’ll see the world through square eyes as a digital fug. But don’t mistake those chequered-shirted figures behind the bar for pixelated robots.

Look closely and you’ll notice those are (vaguely) sentient creatures, smiling, greeting you, waiting patiently for some interaction.

Saying things like 'hi', 'please' and 'cheers' haven’t gone obsolete yet, and some small talk with the bartender could be as vital as the booze you need to ease yourself back into the living world of human interaction.

You might miss us when we get replaced by vending machines - have a chat while you can, it’s free. Oh, and if you’re on the blower while you’re ordering, sorry but you’re getting hated. No exceptions - them’s the rules.

This Isn't Your Living Room 

Once you’ve tried a place out a couple of times, it is very much possible to make yourself too at home in your favourite drinking establishment.

Sure, we're all about 'mi casa es tu casa'. Remember though, just because you use our bar to hide from your family several times a week, doesn't actually make you a member of management. 

Moaning about music, kids, or sports being too loud is not going to change anything - they’re there because other people want them to be. Democracy sucks.

You're Being A Dick About A Queue

British people are renowned the world over for our love of queuing - until it comes to the bar, where impatience for booze trumps all. Queuing is a subtle art, and can be done with charm, grace and politeness.

On the flip side, the queue offers myriad opportunities to get yourself hated on by your bartender. This is because when there’s a queue, there’s more to do.

All you have to do is wait for 5 minutes. During hellish shifts behind the bar most staff would punch a penguin in the face for the golden opportunity to stand completely still and think of absolutely nothing for 5 minutes. Count your lucky stars guys.

Only inside your head is there any reason for me to raise my game, go faster, grow an extra pair of arms or whatever it is you want me to do to get you your drinks right now, so just chill. They’re coming.

Another really good way to get hated is with attention seeking tactics such as finger-clicking, bruv-shouting and tenner-waving. Such extreme cases of bellendery can, in some instances, lead to your being publicly Carraghered, and nobody wants to see that.

Don't Be Suspicious

Certain gentlemen, alumnus of the School of Douche, love nothing more than acting like their bartender is plotting to pull a fast one on them.

You’ve seen them, exaggeratedly checking the watermark on their change, demanding itemised receipts and - extra douche points for this one - asking if you’ve watered their beer down.

Watering Down The Beer Question 1: Why? I’ve chiefed myself a sneaky pint and so to cover my tracks I’ve made the WHOLE BARREL TASTE LIKE WATER?

Question 2: How? I don’t know if you’ve seen a 22 gallon keg but they’re pretty airtight, and look like they could blow up at any point. Nobody's stabbing holes in one of those bad boys just for the sake of a free slurp of Fosters in the cellar.

FYI - These Jokes Are Dead:

‘Do you take oyster card?’ - do I look like a bus?

‘Is that for me?’ - when someone carries a case of vodka past you.

‘Twist my arm then’ - as if your tenth pint is my idea.

‘Just a straw’ - when asked how many wine glasses you need.

‘Looks like it's free then’ - when your card doesn’t work.

Aha, never heard it, mate.

It's Nothing Personal

If you don’t enjoy being tired, poor, hungover and busy, then maybe bartending isn’t for you.

Shifts often last from morning to gone-midnight, so we’re always looking for ways to banish the boredom. One favourite is a challenge to go without talking for the longest time possible, or saying ‘F**k you’ instead of thank you and ‘jizz’ instead of cheers. Neither big nor clever, but it illustrates where a long stint behind the pumps can send you mentally.

As I said, it's often nothing personal, just a case of too many people wanting too many things in a too long day. Nobody hates you.

Ultimately, you are drunk with your friends, and I am not. I'm jealous, that’s all.

George Utley
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Cover image - Photo by PA. 

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