Oh my

So I worked my very first shift at the new bar. It was very pleasant. No one was shouting (at least, not at me, or in anger - just some good-old-fashioned enthusiasm). The owner greeted me when I arrived, and then an hour later came behind the bar to remind me that this was a trial period. I tried not to panic.

I wonder if he told me that because - after watching me work for an hour - he was having some serious doubts about my abilities, and needed to remind me that THIS WAS NOT A PERMANENT SITUATION.

Duly noted.

The floor staff are lovely. So lovely and sweet and welcoming and only one person seemed really annoyed by my very presence, but you know, what are you going to do. Everyone can't like you all the time.

I was slow - much slower then my usual work pace. I was not at my best. I was clumsy and slow and confused and easily rattled. I didn't know where anything was, people were ordering things I wasn't familiar with, I wasn't sure what my responsibilities were, etc. etc. you know - the usual excuses for not blowing them away with my mad skillz. But excuses aside, I was a nervous wreck. I made a point of telling almost every customer that it was my first night, in case I screwed anything up. Plus, I didn't have a beer bottle opener, and that was a problem. I was trying to open beers with my wine key, until I actually broke the GLASS NECK of a Heineken. That was super.

So I had to keep tracking down the other bartender, and asking her if I could use her opener - which sort of defeated the point of having two bartenders, if one was unable to work without the other. This went on until about 3 hours into my shift, when the bartender who was training me (and constantly lending me her opener) pointed out the bottle opener mounted on the beer cooler. Aha. How convenient. I am an asshole. Clearly. That poor woman, what must she think of me?

The next time someone ordered a beer, I knew just what to do. I went right over to this handy-dandy opener on the outside of the beer cooler, and opened a beer.

Not only did the bottle cap come off - but the entire fucking opener came off the outside of the cooler.

I just don't know my own strength.

So I stood there, clutching an open beer with one hand, and trying to re-attach the opener with my other hand. I looked like an idiot. Several staff members were just standing their with their mouths hanging open, watching this SPECTACLE. I felt like a complete and total asshole. I really did. I know they were wondering what (or who) I did to get this gig. Because it was not on my own merits, that was for damn sure.

I think it was all just nerves. I hope it was all just nerves. Maybe it's just nerves. I was nervous.

And don't even get me started on the drinks. A "red-headed slut"? REALLY????? Did we need to go there?
Because I haven't had red hair in years, buddy.