What I’ve learned on the job

So, I’ve worked as a doorman and a bartender, and it’s safe to assume that I’ve learned a few things about the human condition. And by condition, I mean drunken stumblings.
Yet people still never cease to amaze me with feats of daring dumb, and glaring acts of social disaster. Suffice it to say, I don’t get too many second generation MENSA members moseying into the establishment.
I’ve wanted to write something about this for awhile, but I kept putting it off to bitch about religion, the president, and write sentimental pieces about my family.
But enough of these dippy diatribes about nothing. It’s time I wrote something of substance, of importance. Something that cuts to the heart of what’s going on in this world.
Just kidding. What, am I a blogger or something?
Like most things in my life, I just choose the simplest approach. So, without further interruption, I present you with the things I’ve learned while working at a bar.
— Waiting 20 minutes to get into a dive bar still seems awfully silly. Unless it’s my bar.
— Always use an open stall when urinating. It only takes one drunken customer who sprinkles your shoe to learn that little gem.
—If someone says something dumb to me when I check their ID, their statements are going to get increasingly less intelligent with every ensuing cocktail they pour down their throat. This is known as the Shhh-You’re-Drooling-On-Yourself Paradigm.
— Seeing your customers away from the bar makes you wonder, “Who the hell is having sex with these people?”
— The women’s bathroom is just as, if not more, disgusting than the men’s. Gross.
— I am fortunate that I get to write every week. I think my mom is bribing my editors.
— Working at a bar doesn’t necessarily equate to frequent, random sex. A girlfriend does.
— “Roadhouse” and “Cocktail” are the dumbest movies ever. And I own them.
— Even if you show me your boobs, I’m not giving you a free drink. But the rest of the bar appreciates your attempt.
— Not tipping = Bad karma. And angry bartenders.
— Friends and enemies come and go, but homeless guys will always smoke other people’s cigarettes.
— Winning a bar fight is like getting free tickets to a Kenny Chesney concert. Even if you win, you’re still really lame.
— Barroom intellectuals seem to gather strength and momentum if left to their own devices. It’s best to fake a poop cramp and walk away.
— My attention span has dwindled to sad proportions while bartending. Watching humans and their nocturnal predilection for booze begs question of Darwin’s own sobriety.
— Hooking up in a bar is usually not such a hot idea. More than likely you’re just another stop on her drunken carousel.
— It’s usually a good idea to stay (somewhat) anonymous when you’re out boozing in Encinitas. Having your friends read about your dumbass can be hard on a fragile ego.
— If you’re going to act like an ass, people know you’re full of it.
Apparently it’s quite evident that I’ve only gleaned a wee bit of wisdom during my tenure as a vodka jockey. Go figure. Then again, it’s not like I learned that much in college either.
At least with this situation, my drinks are free.

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