Today’s guest post comes from Emma. Emma is a writer, bartender and generally happy person from Brisbane, Australia. Her career has been predominantly in the hospitality industry as a restauranteur, and she holds a special interest in mixology. Some of her many talents include removing lipstick off wine glasses and replacing coasters which have been shredded into small squares. Emma began writing about her antics and experiences and this has evolved into an online author platform. Her first novel has been submitted for publication. Visit her at:
At Your Own Whisk
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I’ll be the first to admit, I forgot about the others.
People kept coming and politely requesting drinks. They waited patiently while I made them. They thanked me afterwards. I should have known. It was too good to be true.
The lie the lovely people sold to me seemed comforting and nostalgically familiar, like seeing a long-lost friend after some time.
Little did I know, I was about to be put back in my place.
She sauntered up to the bar, with a certain air about her. She was a woman who expected the absolute best. Her sparkly stilettos highlighted the sway in her strut, and her heart-shaped lips matched her heart-shaped arse perfectly. She threw her accessory forward: a gangly companion to pay for her drinks.
From the moment he mumbled, “One bourbon cola,” I knew how this relationship worked. On the surface, she was out of his league, but in reality, he had fallen in love with her body, and she had fallen in love with his wallet.
“Sure,” I said, grabbing a glass. “And for you? Can I get you a drink?” I asked the woman.
“Make me something gooooood,” she purred expectantly.
“Sure, ok, what kind would you like?” I asked. “Can I make you a cocktail maybe?”
She leans forward and breathes sexily, “I want something just for me,” licking her lips in anticipation.
“Ok…” I start creating various recipes in my mind, but I just needed that little bit more of information. “What kind of flavours do you like? Would you like something sweet, or fruity, maybe something bitter? Or creamy or tart even? What do you normally drink?”
That was it. The show was over. How dare I?
Now as the creator of many drinks over the years, I have learnt to give people what they ask for, and never assume anything. The last time I made something out of thin air, I was met with a huff and scream of, “I hate mango!” (after, of course, she’d watched me make it).
“What do you normally drink?” I asked gently, half smiling and half concerned – a well-practised expression to let her know I genuinely care. The truth was, I knew I was in trouble by then. It was better to act innocent that to interrogate.
She froze, and turned to me, slowly. I could see the flames burning in her eyes, menacingly glaring at me for ruining the moment. You know what? I probably ruined her night. The look she gave me, said that I’d ruined her life.
“What kind of drinks do you have?!” she snapped.
I take a minute to admire the taps of beer to my left. I drop a cocktail menu in front of her, and take the time to observe the shelves. I look back at her to check that she’s watching, and my eyes turn the fridges circling the lower bar.
“I can make you pretty much any drink you’d like, provided we have the right ingredients here…” I start.
“Well?!” she demands. “What drinks do you have?!”
I take a breath, and tell her, “We have beers. We have wines. We have bourbons and rums and whiskeys. We have tequila and we have gin. We have liqueurs, sodas, juices and waters. We have teas, coffees and hot chocolates. We even have bottles of things that I’m not sure of what they are. What do you normally drink? Tell me what you like and we’ll go from there.” I shot daggers at her, then transformed my face into my Customer Smile.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
“I’ll get a bourbon cola too,” she says.
At Your Own Whisk
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Mary
Haha, love this!!
justabartender
omg the rage I felt just reading this.
bless you for your aplomb!!