Vegas or New Oreans? That Is The Question

Alright churrins, I finally have time again to write... Let's do a little update with my life eh?

Been working 16 hours a day... bartender in the day, housekeeper at night.
I got the barback position.
Bartender in the day. Barback at night.
I hate the bar I worked for.
No more day bartending.
Barback by night. Life is sweet.



That's pretty much what this blog is about.. all of my awesome adventures of the process that got me to where I am now, and then I kinda want some input on what I should do for the future.

When I moved back to Mississippi, this has been my plan for a very long time- bartending. Whatever it was that I had planned to do, school, other jobs, whatever- my main goal was to be a bartender to support myself.  That and I've always thought as bartenders as the coolest people. Always so chill. So personable. Got swag.

Getting paid to talk to people and get them drunk? Sounds like my kind of job.

But I found out quickly that bartending isn't like it was in the north.. there's a certain amount of skill that people want you to have. To be certified. To be quick yet clean about it. Professional.  I knew there was a school for it, but I waited months to even check it out. I was thinking I had to pay for the school in full. One day I decided I was done waiting. I was getting impatient and wanted things to roll now now now! I drove to the school nearest me - about thirty minutes to the next city.

I walked in and talked to the administer. He walked me through the school, showed me the gaming part of the school with all sorts of gambling tables and also the bartending side of the school.
"You can make a lot more money as a dealer" he told me, ranting on about the money figures.
"That's cool and all, but I just want to bartend."
"You can. We have financial aid programs for doing both."
"That's really great. But all I want to do is bartend."

I found out that day that I don't even have to start paying for my schooling until six months after I graduate. I came in that following week and started The first week in February. Three month class. Five days a week. Five hours a day. Add that on top of a grave shift job, and you have yourself one hell of a messed up schedule.

But I did it. For three months. Always showed up on time for work and school. There was a hiccup once or twice but the point was that I made it. In the beginning the months seemed to drag but as time went on, and now that I am finished, I see that it went by so quickly. 

Immediately I applied for the open barback positions at my casino resort I was already working at. I talked to Human resources, called who I could, even had my instructor at the bartending school call up there. I wanted the job so badly.

Next thing I know, the head calls me up and tells me to come in for an interview. Hells the fuck yeah. When can I do it? Whenever your little heart desires. I went in the next morning, right after work and right before school. I told the instructor I would be late but he was cool about it. I mean. This is what I am going to school for!

I didn't think I would get the job to be honest. Just the way I kinda got looked at. Ohh Thibs is a girl...

"You know what this job is don't you? He asked.
"Yes sir. Barback."
"That's a lot of lifting a night. Lots of running around. Picking up beer cases."
"Yes sir. This is what I want to do. I heard you have to be a barback first before you become a bartender here."
"That's right. Usually we have guys as barbacks..."
"This is what I want to do. I have been in this company for nine months now. I would like to stay in this company, but if you don't want me to have a job here, that's fine. I will go to New Orleans like I planned or maybe even Vegas where the money is. Either way, I'm going to get into this business whether it be here or not."
He leans back. Smiles. Nods his head. "Alright." He says.
"Look," I smirk,"don't let the pretty dress and the nice heels fool you. I did this for the interview process. I am a tough gal. This is what I want to do."
"Thank you for your time. I should be giving you a call sometime this week," He said as we both got up and shook hands.

I really didn't think I got it. I almost wanted to cry.

The interview was at nine that morning.
Class started at ten.
It wasn't even noon before I got the call back, telling me that I was hired.
I was so excited I started to cry.

It was one of those moments in life where you have gotten shit on and shit on for the longest time and when something finally goes your way you can't help but smile.

Everyone I have met at work is cool too. They tell me, "You'll move fast to be a bartender. Some of the ones we have don't even know as much as you and they were only barback for a couple months." That gives me hope.
Some of them told me, "You're the chick? We've never had a chick barback. That's cool. You're the first."  And that also makes me feel empowered. I like doing things that people say I can't do. Most everyone appreciates that feeling and knows what I am talking about..


So here is my question for poll.. After giving it a good year or so at this casino, any suggestions for my next step? I have heard that Vegas is full of hard people but there is a good living to be made. A very good living. I also heard that New Orleans is a good living to be made and is a little more laid back as far as the type of people... I can see myself living in either place and rolling with the punches no matter where I go but I guess I just want a say. What you think?

Until next time my dedicated followers!

India Comes to Amurrica

Alright, so last month I had my very first bartending gig. You'll have to forgive me for being so late on actually writing something about it because I have no internet and getting to the library between school and work proved to be improbable. But back to the point- yes, my very first bartending gig. 700 guests. 5 bartenders. 1 wedding. GO.

First to note- this was a genuine Indian wedding- dot Indian, not feather Indian. It was extravagant and beautiful- traditional dances, the dresses, the million guests, the food; such a sight.

We were to show up at 4:30pm to start set up- the open bar was to start at 6:30. No big deal, plenty of time right? Not when you have no idea where the alcohol is for the shindig and the person in charge is no where to be found until 5:30.

So we scramble to get the four bars set up- having to shovel ice in our little bins and take it from the ice machine to the complete opposite side of the building to where our bars were to be set up. 6:29 comes around and guests are already antsy. We bartenders found out something very quickly that day... those of India are alcoholics man.

Don't get all racial-judemental on me, this damn blog is for comedic true-story purposes. Gonna start going off on me, get the eff off my blog.

Anywhozers, So we're pouring our ounce-to-glass ratios, and the guests are not having it.
"More."
"Make it a double"
"No ice"
"Half the glass full"
and our personal favourite, "I would like Johnnie Walker with a little water." It would be your favourite too if you've ever heard an Indian say that in their accent.

So we're slinging drinks before the ceremony- it was only a one hour happy hour, the ceremony, then the release of the guests again to drink until midnight. God help us all.
I don't mean to make it sound overly atrocious because it wasn't. I mean. Well. We had fun. But I'll be damned if that ever happens again. You know what I mean. Moving on.

When the first hour was ending, the masses all came up slowly but surely, "Just one more please. Just one more."
"No. We are supposed to head you into the ballroom now. We will be open later."
Mean mugs were the general consensus. Not like we cared- this was our job. Still, smiles and all, directing people into the ballroom. A guy comes up from the side of me, "Do you have a glass you can tap on or something? We need these people to head inside."
I smiled, "No, but I'm pretty damn loud. Want me to make an announcement?"
"Oh that would be great."
SLAM SLAM SLAM! My hand on the bar. That got their attention,
"HEY! I need everyone to head into the ballroom so that the ceremony may start. Thank you for your cooperation!"
"You weren't kidding," The guy said as he stood there watching them like cattle, all filtering into the ballroom.

As we were filling up on ice, cutting more limes, and moving the bars inside to our next position, a couple cops come over to us, "I would like a rum and coke," says one of them.
"Sorry sir. Not gonna serve you on duty."
He sat there and waited.
"Really?"
"Really really." Not looking back up to respond, tending to my limes.
That's right, stupid piggy, no special treatment for you.
After getting all situated in our new areas, the announcement was made that the drinking was to commence.

It got to the point where the guests would try to overrun our bartenders, stepping behind the bar for them. Myself and a couple others had to step in with balls of steal and a little force," Sir, we will get to you. There are only 4 of us. We are paid to do this. We are trying." So on and so forth.

I went from the nice ginger bartender to the cutthroat get-your-fucking-drink-and-go bartender.

By the end of the evening, we were all pretty wiped of the demands. Then they started asking for shots, and having a limited bar, you learn quickly to blow shit outta your ass.

"We want eight shots! What can you make into shots?"
"A Hawaiian Bomb." Whatever the fuck that is....
"Ohh! Sounds good! Yeah, Hawaiian Bombs!"
I threw some vodka in a mixing tin with some cranberry and orange juices..(later to remember that when not in shot form, that is an actual drink called a Madras.) now when I say some, I mean I slight splashes. My main goal at this point was to sauce them up so they would stop coming. They kept coming....
Then, as we are putting away our bars, the crowd gets all "I'm-not-sauced-enough" attitudes on us, and start asking for more shots.

"Thirty shots. We need thirty shots," the guy yells over the music.
I look to either side of me at my coworkers. They are all scrambling to clean things, put things away, get it outta there.
"If I make y'all shots, you gotta take em and go. I have limited counter space," I say very firmly.
I shake and strain the first ten. None are budging. "I'm not kidding," I said,"take em. We wanna leave." They finally start going, but the empty shot cups instantly come back on the counter.
"Oh no you don't," I said, "You can throw those away in the trash ten feet to your right."
They looked at me as if I shit on their prized goat.
"Still not kidding." I said, trying to force at least a smirk.
Whilst in the middle of juggling 20 more shots and another drink, some dude comes at me from the side,"I would like a rum and coke."
"Sure sure, but I'm very busy and you'll have to wait a minute sir."
Another guy comes from the side of the first one,"Hey! This is the guy that bought all the alcohol!"
As if that means something to me. "Yeah, cool. Still doesn't make me go any faster," I said very dryly, still half a smirk.
"I'm only kidding," he responds, also trying to force a smile.
"I'm not." I said back.

Finally all the shots out of the way, the buyer was pleased, we were putting up when another guy comes outta no where- "We want wine for the groom and all his friends."
Kandy puts a bottle on the counter for him and continues putting things away.
"You're not going to serve it?" He asks.
"Nope. We're getting out of here. Our time is up." Someone said. We were all just about done with this shenanigans- already cutting it close to the time of closing our bars.

Finally the guy in charge comes over, tells us we did a great job, and thanks us for our patience. We put the alcohol away, found all of our equipment, got paid, and headed for the Hard Rock to mellow down.

Moral of the story children? Sauce them up when it is an open bar, flirt enough, and by the end of the night, you'll always have a decent amount of tips.