It’s been a pretty crazy week at BC, so I haven’t had a chance to update. Please excuse the nonsensical rambling; I’m trying to remember exactly what happened.

Saturday: Started out normally enough. Old folks, regulars, and families. Should have known that the evening was going to be nuts. We open at 11am. By 12:30, management was going around trying to bribe people to work the evening. Wish I could have taken them up on their offer, but I was already scheduled to work that night 😦 Strangely, it was one of those days where everybody said no. So they pull a seasoned bartender off the bar to serve, and brought in a rookie bartender (who I’ll call Peep)  to pinch hit.  Not the greatest idea on a Saturday night. Our one remaining good bartender (Kitty)  nearly shit herself. Instead of washing dishes and taking orders for waiting customers, Peep disappears, leaving our good bartender to make our drinks, drinks for waiting guests, and do takeout orders.

About 7:30, we ran out of every single kind of glass (except pint glasses) because Peep thought she’d go around bussing tables. Hey, asshole! We have bussers to do that! My customers don’t want their martinis in pint glasses! Get your ass back on the bar! Anyhoo, Kitty freaks out and storms off to the break room. Servers are left to make their own drinks.

I decided to stay on the bar for a bit to do some damage control. I had gotten triple sat, so my tables were all in a good place, eating their dinners and not needing me. Peep decides to make an appearance, and calmly informs me that the Molson Canadian keg is empty. Really?! Go change it then! She has no idea how to. So I drop everything to change it. Peep then comes over, saying “oh nevermind, I remember this”, rips the tap outta my had and I get covered in a beer shower. Head to toe. My underwear is soaked for crying out loud! Peep just stares at me. “Are you just gonna stare at me? Get me a fucking towel!” I yell. After another moment of gawking, Peep hands me one. paper. towel. Fuck you! I’m outta here!

Fast forward an hour: No longer soaked, but unpleasantly moist and sticky, my GM asks me to help her sort and take out the empty beer bottles from the bar. She knows I need a smoke, and this is her way of telling me,  “just a few minutes, you’ll get one”. So, we’re on our knees in the bar, furiously sorting the brown bottles from the clear and the green, when we hear a loud CRACK!

What’s another broken glass, at this point? Me and GM shrug at each other and continue sorting bottles. A moment later, we hear “Oh shit!” What now? Another server coming into the bar had slipped on a puddle of red wine and nearly bashed her head in the cupboard. Except it wasn’t red wine. It was a pool of blood, coming from my hand! Turns out, that shattered glass had flown through the air and embedded itself in several capillaries in my hand. They bleed like motherfuckers! Fuck me!

You know what, I feel bad for not posting anything in awhile, so I’ll leave this as is and continue it later:P

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