If it was fun...

...they wouldn't call it work. I once read a poll of bartenders in, none other than, Bartender Magazine. They asked bartenders what their biggest pet peeves were: the #1 answer was "pennies". Thankfully, these little nuisances have been all but eliminated from the industry. The #2 answer was "smile".

Now, bartending CAN be fun, especially if you are a twenty something working in a club, partying with the customers until dawn (because hangovers don't affect you, yet) or if you're not too overly concerned about your job (you are writing the next great all-American novel, or your big break is just around the corner). It can even be fun when the restaurant is not filled to its 200+ seat capacity; and the waiters are not lined up for drink orders; and you are not trying to replenish stock as fast as you seem to be using it; and you are not trying to prioritize in your head what needs your attention foremost.

Even though you cannot see those 200 people in the rear thirsting for my immediate attention, and the 20 people at the bar seem easily handled, I may not feel well, or maybe my goldfish drowned. It occurs to me recently that as adults most of us have forgotten our ASS/U/ME lesson as a child. Remember, don't assume: it makes an ASS of U and ME. Don't assume that because you transfer your bar bill to your dinner bill that I will get any of the tip you leave in the dining room, ASS. I don't and I'm not likely to smile at U after you just ran my ass off for two hours and didn't tip ME.

Instead, try enjoying the highly honed choreography of a skilled professional bartender, or maybe try to envision the controlled chaos as poetry in motion. Either way, I don't come to your wok, expect you to drop everything you are doing, and smile at me. And if I did, I wouldn't expect it to be free.