Appreciate your bartender: Dos and don’ts

It’s Bartender Appreciation Day! In honor of the gods and goddesses behind the stick, here are some “dos” and “don’ts” to help you be the best drunkard you can be—provided by our dear friend Haley, who tends bar in Portland, OR.



Thanks for appreciating all the ass kickin’, kissin’ and holes we deal with. Here’s some pointers to show you give a shit. Because saying “you work in the industry” doesn’t mean jack. Frankly, it can be a little insulting.

Your lovely bartender—off-duty

1. Pound on the bar to get my attention. I see you. I see the 50 other people standing around you, and the 4 that are immediately in front of me. Your lack of patience and common courtesy makes me want to make you wait longer.
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Diaries of a cigarette girl: Part 3


Guest writer Chelsea regales us with her first forays into the wild world of booze in this multipart series.

Despite my novice status as a drinker, alcohol quickly became my fuel, pushing me through the insanity of each night as a cigarette girl. I knew nothing about cocktails so I usually asked the bartenders to make me something they liked themselves. The beautiful brunette tending bar at the upscale dance club on Broadway made me an ultra-sweet concoction in a martini glass called a Purple Hooter; the friendly, scruffy-faced guy at the dingy sports bar made me a SoCo and peach schnapps atrocity called an Alabama Slammer. The geeky bar-back who clearly harbored a crush always greeted me with two shots of Fernet, one for me and one for him. And the aging, chubby queen behind the bar at my favorite gay dive made me a large juice glass filled to the top with his secret recipe for a Vanilla Cosmo, which he refused to reveal. I didn’t know what I liked, so I would try just about anything. I never had to ask for a drink, as bartenders tended to have some affection for the cute Peachy Puff girls, and offered booze freely to us. I enjoyed the camaraderie I felt with my fellow night workers, and they, along with the drinks they shared with me, were my only comfort during each night of stressful, fast-paced, disorienting work.

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