So the interview at Brady's ran smoothly, and Jason hired me on the spot to start the next night. As I was leaving, he casually mentioned Karen, the "usual bartender" that wasn't working out - though the only problem was that she didn't know it yet.
"But don't you worry about that. I will take care of it," he assured me.
"Great," I thought - getting trained by the person I am replacing. I am sure that will go just as smoothly as this interview. Right.
I arrive punctuallyat 4 p.m. the next day and am greeted with hopeful high-fives by the wait staff. Apparently Karen was not only not cutting it from the owner's point of view, but even the floor staff didn't like her. They didn't even know me yet or my aptitude behind the bar, but they were already positive that I would work out better than Karen. Now I really can't wait to meet her.
Karen walks in, looks at me not like the protective mama bear that I thought she would be, when realizing that her job may possibly be on the line. Instead she immediately huffs, blows her red-highlighted bangs out of her eyes, looks at me sideways and says "I can't believe Jason is doing this to me." Hi - nice to meet you, too. No wonder the reputation.
Then she goes on to half-heartedly walk me through the rigors of opening the bar for the night, all the while making it clear that she does not want to be doing this on "her busiest night." Apparently she has no idea that this will be her last "busiest night" (Saturday) and the one whom she is barely interested in wasting her breath talking to, nevermind showing the computer system to or where the extra olives are stocked, is getting her new position further secured by the hour (Not only does every waitress thank me for actually making drinks that are ordered -- guess that's not Karen's priority; but dishwashers, customers and the owner's wife all seem to be giddy with the expectation that 'The Bitch' will soon be gone.)
Don't get me wrong - Karen is a perfectly nice person -- to the customer she tries to upsell a Patron margarita to (Wait - isn't that like adding 50-year old Scotch to Pepsi??? How needless is that?) But her doe-like eyes and low cut blouse work on the young couple, and she seems to be confident in her handiness now. It doesn't seem to matter to her that I am beside her, managing the service bar fine while also catering to sit-down customers. Oh, and did I mention I came to work sober and drug-free? Yes, that is another reason Karen is on the outs -- she cut her finger while cutting fruit one night, and came to work the next day strung out on Percocet for the pain. I guess she was staring at each individual mint leaf while making a psychedelic mojito and was asked to step aside so one of the waitresses could finish it. Way to go, Karen.
So she must have an inkling that I am there to replace her. Yet, part of me feels badly for her. A patron asks her what her day job is. She replies "I'm 23. My day job is sleeping and going to the beach." Makes me want to scoff, "Kids today..." But I hold in my chuckle and back her up when she gets "in the weeds" opening a bottle of wine at the same moment a couple sits down at the bar and expects service. You take it easy, Karen - you must be sun-stroked...
The night ends perfectly well -- only because I bite my tongue all night and don't tell her what is to become of her, bad attitude and ineptitude and all. I rest assured that the next time I walk into that bar, I won't be met by a bitchy, all-to-overconfident bartender-has-been; but instead by a new wave of high-fives and waitress gratitude. I leave, without saying a word, thanking her for showing me the ropes, and not at all outwardly pissed that she shares none of the two hundred dollars of tips with me ($175 of which would not have even been possible without my rum-runner rescues and Karen-unusual patron politeness).
The last I hear is "Um, Jason, I need to talk to you" She thinks she is going to give him, the owner of the establishment that enables her daytime laziness, a piece of her mind about bringing in ANOTHER bartender to help HER of all people. No, not helping, replacing you. See you next week, or NOT...
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