I can see it in your eyes… Ah old age. Quoting old songs as I do (like Lionel Richie jams) elicits endless confuzzled facial expressions and stares into space by the twenty-something year old set. I’m a relative Grandpa in the bar biz – at least in busy clubs. But I still gots it according to some of the loons who keep hiring me. And, as long as the occasional 22 year old hotness aspires to drag my ass from the bar, to the secluded VIP section from time to time, I suspect I’m not all that decrepit just yet (despite what my throbbing bunions, abysmal short-term memory, and constant narcoleptic state tell me).
I’m not dumb enough to not realize that bartending, in many zany venues (clubs mainly), has a limited lifespan in terms of age. That’s especially true – like it or not – when it comes to that special bird – the female bartender. Look around the hottest NYC venues and you’ll be hard pressed trying to locate a foxy bartender chick pushing 30. That’s not to say that perhaps they haven’t found life’s calling in other occupations and moved on. Sad as it may seem, in many cases, fresh meat has often replaced those “elderly” women.
Here I am doing my thang a couple of nights ago – more than 19 years after my first bartending gig. It was a cold evening and my head conspicuously lacks adequate follicles in order to keep my cranium comfortably toasty. So I sometimes don a hat as you can see. Besides, i think beanies are cool sometimes.
Notice the fingers on the outside of the pourers. That’s critical lest you enjoy being reprimanded for dumping half-a-bottle of Absolut on the floor due to worn out pour spouts and stupidly engineered, non-standard bottle mouths. Furthermore, do yourself a huge favor and get in the habit of building your cocktails in proper Boston Shakers, not tins. Grow accustomed to identifying common measurements such as 1,1.5, 3.0, 4.5 and 6 ounces by sight alone – something which can only be done via the glass shaker folks. Just sayin…
