I don't get sick of this.

First, work was lazy. I got paid for 4 hours of stealing weekly stickers from the kitchen and slapping them on my managers back while he wasn't looking, and drawing staff as animals and sticking them on the computer screen. Really. This is how bartending is sometimes in a smaller establishment; especially on a Sunday. You can only do so much.

Secondly, my (boss) called late and said he was home alone, so I drove in and sauntered into his house. His knee was wrapped and propped up, so I assumed we were not going to do much, if anything. Of course I assumed wrong and ended up between his knees pretty quickly...

That guy is a fucking champ. Big guy, all muscle and mass, and still had no problem fucking me from behind like a Spartan.

9 hour shift.

After 9 hours, I was looking forward to a romp... get a text, he'd busted open his knee.
Good on you, careful manager.

Friday nights are DJ night.

Today is Saturday morning, which, naturally, means yesterday was Friday. Friday's are generally my days/nights off, more often than not. It's my one taste of weekend. So I was pretty pumped to have a good night lined up; get dressed up, go to the gig that was on (a local band), and have a good relaxed night. Just as I'm about to go, I get a phone call. Manager of bar #1 needs someone to close with. I get there by 8 and survey the bar.

The new duty manager is there, leaning against the fridge while patrons are waiting to be served. He's ignoring them. I quickly serve everyone and snap at him, which isn't hard, the guy is 5 foot nothing and I have at least 4 inches on his hight. The OTHER managers are all 6'4" and don't slack around, but I have nothing but disdain for this guy. It's only his third shift AND he's an ex patron.

So I got to work with my boss. My lovely, fuckable boss. For the first shift since the weirdness we had after our interwork relations (ie, fucking on the bar). Casually we say our hellos, and get to work. It wasn't particularly busy, just steady all night. With a fucking terrible DJ. Drunks don't mind, though, that's the beauty of it.  I sussed out the boss, it all seemed good between us, so I was workin' with a smile on my face all night.

But I digress, let's continue on this new manager. Fucking asshole. Well, that's not true, he's just a bit clueless. He's (my boss's) replacement as (shitkicker) duty manager. He doesn't get the fuck out of your way. He doesn't keep glasses in separate trays. He doesn't clean. He doesn't wash. He sits down a lot. He doesn't FIND something to do. He talks to his mates all night. He forgets to count the tils. He's short, anything but manager material and virtually useless. I have no respect for him whatsoever, so he'd better earn it... otherwise he'll get no co-operation from me or any of the other girls. He's the most useless bar guy I've ever witnessed, I'd have trouble even seeing him as a kitchen hand. But nothing could dull my good mood; not even the one staff member I can't manage to get along with, a girl I used to work with last year in retail. She may be pretty but she's one hell of a rude little cow. But, for those aspiring to be behind the bar, this is the sort of thing you'll find yourself dreading working certain shifts for. Thankfully for me, she was in the kitchen.

The shift went smoothly, only 6 hours (til 2am). The only minor deviation from "good clean shift" was the group of footballers who came in, thankful to have finished uni no doubt. Reasonably polite until we slammed a few beers and cocktails into them, they ended up being the last in the establishment, at which point it was time for them to go and us to close. I kicked them all out and we closed the bar down. When a bar closes, staff generally hang out a bit, blast the music and get our stuff finished, then sign out and go. But last night there were a few staff and ex staff hanging around drinking after closing, so one of the ex staff members, (part of the group of said rowdy boys) slid next to me. The scene is simple"

I'm cleaning the bar and gathering beer mats. My (fuckbuddy) manager is counting tils, and the chef is talking to him. This rowdy drunk who I've never worked with slides next to me and says "hey, my friend wants to bone you." In those words. "Best of luck to him", and keep cleaning. Boss is looking my way casually checking if I'm okay with this, but this kid keeps talking. And talking. And getting ruder. My manager is getting antsy but wants to let me handle it myself, so the chef calls me over with some inaudible request for help with the computer, saving me from this drunks dribble. Manager gets him out, we lock the doors, and we're done.

The chef leaves and it's just (boss) and me. I look at him, and he knows exactly what I want. "Not tonight. I'm tired." Fuck, really?!

"You're never tired, (manager.)"
"You know I'm ALWAYS tired. Better than anyone, actually."
"... well what the fuck are you like energised?!"
"(he grins) maybe one day you'll find out."

I'm still a little concerned about where this all leaves me. After his very firm "no" 2 weeks ago, then our slip up last Saturday, I had no idea what was going on.

"What the fuck is going on?"

That should do it.
He sighs and I can really see the strain of politeness and stress on him. He wasn't just being an asshole, he was legitimately tired.

"We already spoke about this" he grunts. "No we haven't!" I quickly pipe up -- I don't wanna leave here in a bad mood, but I do want to get this sorted. "Are we on or are we off?"

"We're on. Just not tonight."

I digest this and accept it. Not happy but I can tolerate that. It's better than what it could be.

"What happened before, then? You said no now it's yes, what happened?"
"to be honest, I got sick of feeling bad about myself."

He used to like me, you know. The first 3-4 times we hooked up in my car, he'd say "I really like you", and he'd be intrigued.  But I didn't feel the same, I spilled a lot of my previous bad experiences out on him, and attraction on a deeper level was gone. Chemistry is crazy, though. Fuck.

I lean over his shoulder and whisper, sultry and quiet...

"those cameras still on?" "Yep."
"no chance?" "Nope."
"Not even if I suck your big, thick hard cock?" "Nope."
"Ride your hard dick slow and deep?" "Nope."

I smile and laugh to show I'm not going to storm off and be a bitch, a genuine smile too.

"How about tomorrow?"
"Yeah, call me."

We'll see how this goes tonight with him. Keen for it.

Afterwards, I went to the local nightclub to catch up with my favorite security guards. By now it's 3am and my second wind is kicking in, so I walk to the door and smile up at my favorite guard; a tall, built married man who plays guiiitaaar. We've had our flirt fests. On Facebook once he forgot to remove the flirting and got busted, so now we only ever talk in "real life." Spent a good hour just talking to the man and watching the (drunks I helped MAKE drunk) leave. When I was set to go for the drive home, he hugs me, and as he pulls away his hand drops to my ass and squeezes. Man, I've missed having flirt buddies.

I'm being pestered by work opportunities.

Before I got my most recent second job (which is a pain in the ass, by the way. Scheduling the shifts around one another, dealing with offended first job management, learning a new environment), I dropped my resume off to many places. Probably 6-10 in the region. 5 got back to me. I worked hard for one job, and I got it.

While I'm here; if you want a bartending job or a hospitality job, FOLLOW UP. Drop your resume off looking good and ready to go to work (girls, this means photo-ready with classy clothes, guys, this means look neat!). Call back and ask for management in a few days and say you're "just calling to follow up on your resume." Trust me on this. I got my first bartending job by turning up, looking hot and having a very very tidy resume. It wasn't particularly filled with much, but it was tidy and it looked good. On top of this, I had a good cover letter. I walked in and asked to speak to the manager, please. I was already speaking to him, so I confidently explained my position. A week later I came back through the same establishments with friends for a night out, and the same manager was on duty. I exclaimed "hire me!" and he rostered me on for 6pm Tuesday.

Not the best story to illustrate how this sort of thing works. Obviously the place has to be hiring. you don't have to be a supermodel to work behind the bar, but looks and charm help a great deal. Tidy, a great smile, and good service personality is essential. Men need charm; female patrons loved being woo'ed by the bartender. Girls need sex appeal but a "do not touch" vibe to them.  I've actually been scheduled off busy nights for flirting too much... they want girl next door, not slut on the street.

The following job was a much more regular occurrence. I saw the job posted for bar staff, and responded with a phone call (manager was not there) and an email. A week later, I applied in person looking good with a cover letter and resume. The manager was not there, so I came back later. We had a talk, and that evening I was on the roster as a trial. I started, completed my trial and was hired. This is much more typical.

Continuing on. A very classy place that mainly serves $70 meals and wine called. And called. I said i'd drop by, I didn't, and they keep calling. Even offering me emergency shifts; ie, I call when I have nothing else to do and they roster me on.

A little secret; I'm bad at wines. I like cocktails and fluorescent shooters. I can appreciate a good moscato or aged sweet red but that's about where I finish it. I'm a whiskey girl, afterall.

So I said i'd drop by on Thursday after I finish my "real job", and I'll have a talk to the elderly gentlemen who owns the establishment. Somehow I don't think I can cram in a third job.

This weeks roster..

... Is looking pretty slow. Thursday, Saturday, Sunday.

This is pretty average for a bartender, though. I'm always on call, usually getting a Friday night or odd trivia night (Tuesday). However, money wise, I'll probably bring in $450/500 this week for those three shifts, so it's not a big deal. Of course this depends on likely hours.

I actually really like Sunday shifts, no one else does. They're quiet and relaxed and I can get everything done without blowing my top. I get to work with my favorite manager. We get along pretty well. Yesterday during a slow, happy MAX audio shift, we even played scissor paper rock to see who'd get the job to clean the tables. We both cheated to try and get the job.

Thankfully this means I can polish some assignments I've been pushing off! I don't mind working long hours plus full-time study, it pays for everything, but I'd rather work than study no matter what day or time it is. I hate how tedious and undemanding study is.

Yuk.

I wonder if I can claim a Jim Beam bikini on tax.

One of my favorite parts of this job is the uniform.

My uniform for Bar #1 is pretty standard; any supported liquor/beer shirts, preferably in black, and black bottoms; in summer this can include shorts.

Bar #2 is similar, but they prefer ALL black. So Jack Daniel's shirts and shorts it is.

So, just cruisin' on eBay looking for some cheap merch. This is always good fun, even though it's just branding. I feel a bit like a walking billboard sometimes, but I don't mind advertising my favorite brands over my breasts; Corona, Jim Beam, Jack Daniel's.

Being a woman, a typical woman, I do like to look a little hot while I'm behind a bar. It's just like acting, you have to look the part. Now, even if you look like Quasimodo, behind the bar you WILL get hit on. There's something special about the woman who serves you alcohol. I have a pretty average routine for looking good for the bar; it's a little glamor, a little rockchick, all bartender.

I wear my hair loose and in long waves, in either a side or a middle part. I'm fortunate enough to not have OH&S on my ass for loose (non-tied up) hair, which is a benefit. I use a curling iron and a flat iron to get a mix of tight ringlets and big, loose Vic Secret curls. I keep my bangs straight and choppy layers. I got lucky on my natural hair colour, I'm a few shades off black and under the bar light instead of throwing chestnut or red or blue off the highlights, I throw ash, which looks very cool under the bar lights.

Makeup is simple. After a concealer and foundation, I use liquid eyeliner to rim my upper lids with decent length wings on the side. I curl my lashes and apply mascara. A little lip gloss and that's my makeup and hair done.

For pants, I'll either wear black tights (on cooler nights) or black denim shorts/Jim Beam shorts with a belt and or belt buckle.

Shoes I go easy on. Bar #2 allows heels, #1 doesn't. It's a mix of nothing special.

I keep jewelry to a minimum cos you will lose/trip/swallow them. I wear no rings, no necklaces, no bangles, only my tongue bar. I've seen girls drop jewelry into drinks. The scramble isn't worth the pain.

Oh, my favorite accessory?

Deep heat gel.
Lots of it.

r rated.

So let's go over the situation with my manager at Bar #1 a little.

When I got the job (I have him to thank for this), I thought hey, this guy isn't too bad. He's built. Check out that body. Oh baby. I bet he has a nice coc..

All while he's explaining to me the ins and outs (hah!) of the job at hand. He hired me then and there. I bet my pupils had dilated.

I offered him a lift home one night, and after spending an hour just talkin' to one another in the car, the Winter set in and me, being a shivery little girl, cuddled up to him, head in his lap. He was stroking my hair, my face, my lips.. I open my mouth a bit and his finger slips in, and I show him EXACTLY what I could be doing right now. He moans "how did we get this far?" At this point I'd have been working with him for 4 shifts.

We fucked right then and there in my car, on the main street, out the front of his house.

For two months we kept this up. At this point he was only head bartender, not part of the management team. However, two weeks ago, he called me in and revealed to me he was being promoted and that was it. No more sex. No more late night "working together after working together." I was pretty shattered, actually. Not just because I loved the thrill of my panties covering the security camera while he covered me, but because I actually liked this man. And now I have to work with him. Fuck.

He re-rosted the shifts so we don't have to work with each other. I got pissed and took up another job elsewhere. On Saturday night, after work at Bar #2, I called him. He wanted to hang out. I picked him at up 3am and we went for a drive to our regular haunts. We said very little while I was driving (too fast), until we got to the secluded dirt road. I pulled up my coupe' and shut the lights off, he wraps his arms around me and squeezes, rubbing his stubbly cheek against mine. I sunk into sooky mood and complained that he never wants to hang out now that he's not bending me over. He rubs his cheek against mine again and quietly says "I'm not dogging you. Relax.." I push back further against his chest and sigh. At this point it's been 2 weeks since we'd had "the talk" and I'd missed this. He's a big guy, he makes me feel small. It's nice. I like his stubble.

"Wanna fuck?"

Don't need to tell me twice. He kisses me and I quickly pull away and unbuckle him. All the while he's smilin' and saying "hey hey, relax! Anyone would think you missed it!"

5am, work at 9am... I dropped him home.
We haven't spoken since. Not sure how this one will end.

10 things other bartenders don't tell you.

1) swollen feet after NO break for 13 hours. You cannot get your leather waiting shoes off at the end of this sort of hell on earth. If you're lucky and no moron dropped some pints, the management might let you mop the floor barefoot.

2) the blisters, cuts and bloody nails. These come from opening cans, opening bottles and forgetting WKD's are not twist tops. Do not underestimate the pain in your thumbnail and forefinger.

3) that glasses do break and you probably will lose the tip of your thumb eventually.

4) That you will get slapped on the ass, at least once. Especially in Summer when they're "good" enough to let you wear shorts for your shift.

5) you will see, and be forced to be nice, to your ex.

6) if you're a reasonably good looking girl, the extreme pickup lines and stalking behavior you will encounter.

7) that you will learn to run on 2-4 hours sleep a night, you will have no social life outside of the bar, and your paycheck will probably be late.

8) that the old women who come in to order coffee will probably be the most tedious thing you do all day.

9) that the live music band the advertisements have been talking up all week are probably bad. Really bad. So bad that you're actually thankful that you've gone deaf from the previous 6 hours of loud music.

10) that free liquor merchandise is completely worth it.

26 hour weekend.

One 13 hour shift on Friday.
One 9 hour shift on Saturday.
One 4 hour shift on Sunday.
6 hours sleep.

I started at Bar #2 on Friday and it was completely slammed for staff. 6 of us behind the bar, all 6 working full-tilt, 3 managers on, 600 people in the bar, $2 UDL's... it was a good introduction to the new place. When you start work in a new establishment, it's a pretty easy thing to grasp. You find out where the glasses are, where the wines are, where certain spirits are, whats on tap, you figure out the till, and then you get to work. The beauty of the bar is once you know everything, it's all about repetition. You pour the same beers, make the same mixed drinks, change the same post-mix bags and kegs, clean the same bar. If you're bored and you've been pretending to wipe that Toohey's New handle for the last 10 minutes, you can help out the waitresses during dinner service and drop plates off.

So back to my weekend. You hear a lot about bartending being glamorous... well fuck you, it's not. In a seriously busy, country establishment, you will be used like a slave to get everything done. I don't even understand why Bar #2 hires cleaners, we do everything.

My trial on Friday went swimmingly. Staff liked me, I handled the pressure, I enjoy the fast-paced atmosphere. They gave me a second shift on Saturday and asked I bring in my paperwork; always a good sign.

Saturday was less busy, thank goodness, but no less hard. They put me on the roster and I started a second job, which will actually be my main. So let's break down my jobs and the pro's and cons of each establishment;

Bar #1) is a smaller but very busy on Saturday nights pub. It's a nice English style pub and the management and staff are more like family than anything. We all get along, know each others stories and keep a close eye on one another's rosters. There's very little cattiness and the work is pretty evenly distributed. Bartenders double as barbacks, waitress's/waiters, food order takers, cleaners (to a lesser extent) and this is the kind of pub that even on a Saturday night, you can have a conversation with the patrons. I like Sunday shifts there. Also, we get free merchandise -- hellloooo Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort shirts. We don't pay for soft drinks and get great discounts on the booze.

Bar #2) is a very very constantly busy country theme pub. Not a high-staff turnover but new people arrive all the time and seem to disappear. I'd probably accredit this the fact we're HEAVILY overworked; no breaks during our 8+ hour shifts. Bartenders are bartenders, that is our main job, to serve alcohol, but we also share the barback work and taking plates out when it's quiet. We do not take meals. We do not know each other or really interact with one another except trying to get out of each others way during a busy weekend. This place has high security. Staff get nearly full-time or fulltime hours. Cleaning is a huge part of the job, I don't know why they even hire cleaners, we do everything from bathrooms to mopping to sweeping to restocking the kegs.

One is my money ticket, the other I'd do for free.
It's not glamour, but it is a wealth of fun.

So let's cut to the (lemon garnish) chase here. I've been fucking my boss.

Not just a little. I've been bent over the bar, screaming his name more than once after closing.

Now, there's many disadvantages to copping a pounding from your charming co-bartender and manager. The first one is that when you are a bartender, you are also a professional flirt. I drip sex appeal when I work behind a bar, it's part of the system; boys come here, girls, you go to him. I don't want to make your martini's. I want to pour a pint of beer and smile and watch this guy think he can make it happen with the bar bitch. That's kind of our system at Bar #1. One male bartender, one female. Even split of customers. Everyone is happy. The issues are pretty thick;

1) cut shifts. He prefers not to work with you to see you flirting with others.
2) when you DO work with him, patrons recognising the fact you've been fucking.
3) "office" chortle. Har-har, chef.

I guess you're wondering what the advantages are. The advantages are just as good.

1) you get to fuck on the bar.
2) you get to fuck on the bar.
3) you get to fuck on the bar.

It's worth it. The reason why being is if you've ever worked in a high-energy environment before, constant moving, you CANNOT switch off. As soon as you hear those words "you can go now", quickly sign your name out and find yourself in the carpark, your body is still buzzing. Your mind is still churning orders. You're on full-tilt. It takes an hour or two to simmer down, OR you could just close that night and take it like a champ over the bar, probably mistaking the spillt beer on your Southern Comfort uniform for "his good job." Sex is the best simmer down.

I'm currently juggling three men. One is my ex-boyfriend, whom I dated for a year. The other is my bar manager. The last is an ageing married rockstar. A lot of the stories you'll find here are balanced on raunchy tales stemming from who I meet at these bars, as well as actual bartending stories.