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Authors: Tracy Tegan
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thinking.
But before I could say a word, Billy spoke up. “Don’t worry man. I’ve got the solution to your problem right here.” Billy put a hand on my shoulder and told the man who was now eyeing me warily; “Meet my roommate Stacy. She’s been a bartender for years.”
“Is that true?” the man asked with almost a sound of desperation in his voice.
“Yes, but …” I started to say when the man interrupted me and said, “Well damn, girl, what are you doing sitting here? We’ve got a line of customers a mile long at the bar waiting for you.” He grabbed me by the arm and started to drag me along beside him.
“No, wait. You don’t understand. I’m not from here.”
The man stopped and gave me a strange look.
“I just moved here from Oklahoma. My liquor license probably isn’t good here in Texas.”
The man paused for just a moment and then said, “That’s okay. I’ve got an idea.” He led me back behind the bar and then pulled out a piece of paper and a marker, and wrote in big letters, Beer Only . He taped it to the counter that hung above my head.
“You don’t need a license to serve beer. You’ll be a behind the bar waitress for the night,” he muttered as he walked around looking at his sign with a big grin on his face.
He looked back at me before walking off and reminded me not to touch any liquor, not even for a second. I nodded in agreement and watched him walk away. I had been around the bar scene for long enough to know how serious it was for an unlicensed bartender to serve drinks. I wouldn’t dare dream of it.
I looked around at the large tubs of beer and ice behind me. Okay, this is going to be easy. I only had to serve beer. I could do that. Anyone could do that. And one by one the customers started lining up.
Because I only had to grab beer bottles and hand them over to the customers that came up to me, my line moved fast. His idea had actually been a pretty good one and it sped things up behind the bar significantly. The other bartender looked to me with appreciation written all over her face. I completely understood what she felt at that moment. I knew what it was like to be alone behind the bar on a busy night.
In between sets I brought the boys buckets of beer and sat them on the table. They seemed grateful and showed their appreciation with a series of crudely sexual remarks each time I came by with a new bucket of longnecks for them to devour. Ahh, boys will be boys, I tried to remind myself each time.
When the night was over I was beyond ecstatic. My feet were killing me. As great as my new shoes may have looked, they weren’t meant for hours of standing behind a bar, slinging drinks.
It turned out the old man in cowboy boots was named Henry and he owned the bar. He asked if I would consider coming in to work again on Friday and Saturday and after discussing it with Jeromy,
I agreed to help. Tomorrow, however, I would be smart about my attire and wear something far less painful on my feet and just in case there are any other issues that arose I would fill out the online application for a temporary servers permit. It’s better to be safe than sorry.
It was nice to feel needed and, even better, I was earning some of my own money. The people at this bar tipped really well, even just for serving them beer.
Friday and Saturday night went by fast. Rowdy’s was so packed I could barely keep up. I felt bad that I didn’t get to spend much time with Jeromy and the boys over the weekend but I could tell they liked that I helped their friend Henry out of a jam.
Jeromy started his new job on Monday, so I wanted to spend every minute of his last day of freedom together. I suggested we hang out by the pool and I put on one of my new bikinis that he got me and met him downstairs.
There was a large stereo outside so I turned it on. I couldn’t find any station that I liked and then I realized that it had a docking station so I ran inside to grab my
But before I could say a word, Billy spoke up. “Don’t worry man. I’ve got the solution to your problem right here.” Billy put a hand on my shoulder and told the man who was now eyeing me warily; “Meet my roommate Stacy. She’s been a bartender for years.”
“Is that true?” the man asked with almost a sound of desperation in his voice.
“Yes, but …” I started to say when the man interrupted me and said, “Well damn, girl, what are you doing sitting here? We’ve got a line of customers a mile long at the bar waiting for you.” He grabbed me by the arm and started to drag me along beside him.
“No, wait. You don’t understand. I’m not from here.”
The man stopped and gave me a strange look.
“I just moved here from Oklahoma. My liquor license probably isn’t good here in Texas.”
The man paused for just a moment and then said, “That’s okay. I’ve got an idea.” He led me back behind the bar and then pulled out a piece of paper and a marker, and wrote in big letters, Beer Only . He taped it to the counter that hung above my head.
“You don’t need a license to serve beer. You’ll be a behind the bar waitress for the night,” he muttered as he walked around looking at his sign with a big grin on his face.
He looked back at me before walking off and reminded me not to touch any liquor, not even for a second. I nodded in agreement and watched him walk away. I had been around the bar scene for long enough to know how serious it was for an unlicensed bartender to serve drinks. I wouldn’t dare dream of it.
I looked around at the large tubs of beer and ice behind me. Okay, this is going to be easy. I only had to serve beer. I could do that. Anyone could do that. And one by one the customers started lining up.
Because I only had to grab beer bottles and hand them over to the customers that came up to me, my line moved fast. His idea had actually been a pretty good one and it sped things up behind the bar significantly. The other bartender looked to me with appreciation written all over her face. I completely understood what she felt at that moment. I knew what it was like to be alone behind the bar on a busy night.
In between sets I brought the boys buckets of beer and sat them on the table. They seemed grateful and showed their appreciation with a series of crudely sexual remarks each time I came by with a new bucket of longnecks for them to devour. Ahh, boys will be boys, I tried to remind myself each time.
When the night was over I was beyond ecstatic. My feet were killing me. As great as my new shoes may have looked, they weren’t meant for hours of standing behind a bar, slinging drinks.
It turned out the old man in cowboy boots was named Henry and he owned the bar. He asked if I would consider coming in to work again on Friday and Saturday and after discussing it with Jeromy,
I agreed to help. Tomorrow, however, I would be smart about my attire and wear something far less painful on my feet and just in case there are any other issues that arose I would fill out the online application for a temporary servers permit. It’s better to be safe than sorry.
It was nice to feel needed and, even better, I was earning some of my own money. The people at this bar tipped really well, even just for serving them beer.
Friday and Saturday night went by fast. Rowdy’s was so packed I could barely keep up. I felt bad that I didn’t get to spend much time with Jeromy and the boys over the weekend but I could tell they liked that I helped their friend Henry out of a jam.
Jeromy started his new job on Monday, so I wanted to spend every minute of his last day of freedom together. I suggested we hang out by the pool and I put on one of my new bikinis that he got me and met him downstairs.
There was a large stereo outside so I turned it on. I couldn’t find any station that I liked and then I realized that it had a docking station so I ran inside to grab my
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