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Editor McClelland bartender for a night PORT PERRY STAR -- Tues. August 14, 1984 -- 9 More than meets the eye happens on the working side This is the fourth in the Port Perry Star summer series of what it's like to try somebody else's job for a short while. Last Thursday even- ing, Star editor John McClelland found out what it's like on the OTHER .ide of the bar as he donned a snappy blue bow tie, white apron and tried his hand mixing drinks for the patrons at Emiel's Place in Port Perry. He work- ed from 8:30 P.M. until closing time (under the watchful eye of bartender Rob Kroonen- berg, of course) and the following is an accout of the experience. If nothing else I at least looked like a bartender. 1 dressed carefully for my debut: comfortable loafers, dark slacks, crisp white short-sleeved shirt, nifty bow tie, and of course the short white apron which is almost mandatory for everyone working behind a bar. . But I must admit to more than just a touch of butterflies as I reported for duty at 8:30 P.M. sharp. A Snap! Sure, tending bar looks like a snap from the customer's side. You walk in, sit down, order a cold beer or drink and there it is in front of you, often before you've had a chance to reach for your wallet. : But knowing that 1 would be doing the mix- ing, snapping the beer caps, pouring draft and carrying trays through a crowded bar room left me feeling a bit nervous. What if I tripped over my feet and spilled a tray of drinks over a patron? What if 1 drop- ped a 40-ouncer of the finest whiskey? What if I poured gingerale over Scotch when the customer asked for soda? What if a truckload of Hells Angels rolled into the bar and didn't like the way I part my hair? What if ... what if ...? As Rob showed me around behind the bar, pointing out this and that, where the beer is cooled, which are the premium and the regular brands of spirits, what glasses to use for certain drinks, I was not unhap- py to notice that there weren't too many patrons in the room. But I knew that wou d change in a hurry. My first customers were three ladies on the outdoor patio. I ap- proached the table and was delighted when one of them said "'So this is your job for the week." She went on to explain to her friends who 1 was and what 1 was doing. One asked for white wine and ice, one asked what if ... for straight white wine, the other wanted a rum 'punch (I think). Pretty straightforward. They were very polite and so was I. A nice way to start the evening. By 9:30, the place was starting to fill up. Three ladies from the office dropped in to see how I was doing. They giggled at the sight of me in bow tie and apron. & bp , Wa 03 sm John McClelland (second left) found out that the life of a bartender is not all that easy. Not only did he have to pour and mix drinks, but he also had to clear tables, wash dishes and carry empty cases to the basement. A group of guys whom I know very well came through the front door. They giggled and snickered at my bow tie and apron and one of them asked for a drink with a name that I won't repeat here. They settled for their usual: rum and coke; Wisers and water, Ballantyne's and water, rye and ginger; rye and coke. . Carefully, 1 set five glasses on the bar, scop- ped in the ice and measured one and a quarter ounces into the shot glasses. First Snag 0.K. so far. Mix is next. No problem. Place all the glasses on a tray, along with the mix, pop in some swizzle sticks and gingerly pick up the tray with both hands to carry it to the table. Oh, oh. First snag of the night. A shot of Scotch over ice looks very much like a shot of rye. Which was which. I knew I couldn't give it the taste or sniff test. That would be most unprofessional. 0.K., take a guess. Scotch for you, sir. And Wisers for you. Rum goes here and rye goes there. : It worked. I was expec- ting to hear someone say "Hey, bartender, I ordered Scotch, not rye." I breathed a sign of relief. On the second round, I got a hint on how to han- dle this little problem. Put different coloured swizzle sticks in each dif- ferent drink, suggested by Kathy Kroonenberg. Problem solved, but as I carried the tray to the table, I wondered if the blue stick was in Scotch, the red in rye, or was it the other way around. Again, some lucky guess- work on my part resolv- ed the issue. I soon found that snap- ping beer and pouring routine drinks and then getting each one to the right customer requires concentration and a system. } It looks so easy and ef- fortless when experienc- ed bartenders do it. They have a definite rhythm to their work, right in sinc, no hesitation, not a bit of wasted motion. Me? 1 felt awkward, clumsy, reaching for things with the wrong hand, scared to death I would knock a big bottle off the shelf. And of course, a tru- ly professional bartender should never have to ask . patrons what they are drinking after the first round. As the evening wore on, I tried my hand at just about everything that a bartender and waiter must do: poured draft, mixed drinks, cleaned ash-trays (again and again) wiped tables, filled and emptied the auto dishwasher, carried beer from the store room, stocked a cooler, and all the things that patrons never see, but are crucial if a busy bar is to run smoothly. And with Rob wat- ching over my shoulder and guiding me through the steps, I managed to mix up a few "exotic drinks" like a Moscow Mule, Snowball Express, Grasshopper and the in- famous B-52. For that one, just take a liquer glass, pour in one-third one-third Bailey's and top it with Kaluah, Grand Marnier. Voila, three separate liquers that don't mix in the glass. Rush Over By midnight, the rush was over. There were just a few people left in the bar, and to be frank about it, I was looking forward to closing time so I could get home. Last call went out at couple of minutes before 1:00 A.M. and I breathed a sigh of relief: no broken bottles or glasses, no angry patrons, no serious gaffes with drinks, no dropped trays. Infact, I felt pretty good about the way things had gone. But I was soon to discover that just because the bar is closed, the bartender doesn't put the lock on the door and head for home. In fact, some very serious work was about to begin. Robert had to take the cash off, tally up things and make sure that everything jibed. I kept busy with some last minutes cleaning. Then he showed me the sytem he uses to keep track of exactly how - many bottles of beer were sold during the day. Each bottle sold during the day is then replaced of the bar exactly. The empties are carted to the store room and they have to be sorted according to brand and bottle size. There are six different types of the new tall bot. tles and of course the old stubby ones. Sorting them takes time. The tall bottles may be a hit with the customers (to the delight of the brew com- panies) but I found out John is seen above with Kathy and Emiel Kroonenburg and their son Bob (second right) who is the familiar face behind the bar most nights. they are a pain in the neck for innkeepers. The supply of liquor is also replenished in the bar, again using a system for precise inven- tory control. All this takes place after the bar is closed and the last customer has left. So it was close to 2:00 A.M. before the work was over. Not Easy I came away with the impression that barten- ding is not what it seems from the customer's point of view. A good bartender and waiter must have at least a dozen little systems worked out to make things run smoothly. Otherwise, the situation would be chaotic. And the customer never sees or notices much of the work that a bartender does during an evening. I'll remember that next time I walk into a bar and order a drink or a beer. I enjoyed my brief i stint as a bartender. The patrons that evening were friendly and polite, but as I took off my apron, I decided that I'll try to hang onto my job, for the time being, anyway. Cheers. Star editor John McClelland took off his hard hat, after work- ing on a construction crew last week, and put on a white shirt and bow-tie. John seemed a lot happier as he made his debut as a waiter at Emiel's Place lounge last Thursday night, and reports have it he didn't spill a drop. (See story)