Che Colbert, shittay service

This is the image on the new t-shirt I’m wearing today. Just got it in the mail a couple of days ago and thought I’d take it out for its virgin journey. Sadly, not everyone is noticing right away that it’s Stephen Colbert, as if I’d wear a fucking Che shirt. I guess when you’re dealing with such an iconic image, people don’t even really “see” it anymore. So the downside to this totally awesome shirt is that some who see it might think I’m an old lady trying to be a hipster. Eh, I still like it.

Speaking of crotchety, I went to a new-to-me bar last night. Loved the interior, the drinks were great but the service SUCKED. There were four bartenders serving a crowd of maybe 65. Even rounding up to 100, that’s only 25 people per bartender. But you had to wait for a good ten minutes to get a drink. Unless you were a regular. Regulars got drinks fairly quickly and were able to have lumbering conversations with the bartenders while the new people were standing there waving money around trying to get someone’s attention. One of the most simple things people can do in the service industry goes a long way with me – look me in the eye and acknowledge that you know I’m there, waiting. If you do that, give me a slight nod or a finger-in-the-air “I’ll be right with you,” I’m fairly patient. But when you’ve never made eye contact with me and you’re standing there with your ironic tattoos, shooting the shit with your emo buddy, it makes me think that you haven’t seen me. Or that you have seen me but misunderstand what it is you’re supposed to be doing for a living. See, you make me a drink, and I give you money. Very simple transaction. But I can’t give you money if you won’t even wait on me.

I’m going to give the bar a second chance, but I’m going to make sure not to go on a busy night. Maybe if there are only 10 customers per bartender they can keep up with both the volume and the striking of cool poses.

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