Something Else (7)

Chapter SEVEN - First Shift at the Disco

The only two things consistent about changing jobs as a bartender is that drink recipes don’t change very much, and you’re serving drinks to thirsty people. Other than that, every bar is different. The floorplan is different. The layout is different. The placement of stock is different. The location of the ice machine is different, and the people you work with are all very different. Oh, and the clientele is definitely different…definitely.

I was scheduled to start at 4:00 pm for my first shift that Friday but I arrived with a fifteen-minute buffer. There was no activity in the foyer or the main room, so I walked down the dark hallway past the restrooms and stopped outside the door marked ‘Office – Staff Only.’

Richie and Eddie could be heard through the flimsy door arguing.

“I thought you were gonna do this last night.” Richie said.

“I was. But I got tied up.”

“With what?”

“Jaycee needed a ride home.”

“And she couldn’t wait for you to finish?”

“She had a sitter. Her kid was sick. She had to go.”

“I guess I can’t leave early from now on. Are you tappin’ that yet?” Richie asked loudly.

I knocked. The conversation stopped and Eddie answered the door. I was standing in the darkened hallway and pointed to the light fixture above my head saying, “Your light bulb is burnt out.”

Eddie looked up and then back at me, frowning. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll get right on that. You’re early.”

“I got an early start. Traffic on Lindbergh was light. I knew you had some tax forms for me to fill out.”

Eddie turned and began walking to a filing cabinet without a word.

Richie was smiling and said “Hey Jack! Glad to see you. Have a seat. I asked Eddie to come in early to get you settled in. The normal starting time is 5:00 pm for the opening bartender with two more coming in at 6:00 and 7:30, staying to close.

“After the forms are filled out, he’s gonna get you two uniform shirts and a vest. We don’t have lockers so you might want to put the shirt you’re wearing in the coat room or take it back to your car.

“Here’s your timecard,” he said handing it to me. The time clock is in the storeroom behind the bar. I’ll show you around and you can come back and do the forms.” He stood, opened the door, and began to walk out signaling for me to follow. Over his shoulder he said loudly “Eddie has to finish reconciling the banks. Don’t you Eddie?”

I turned to look back as I walked through the door and saw Eddie frowning. “This should be fun.” I thought to myself.

The time clock was against the wall near the door of a well-organized storeroom. We stopped and he showed me which way to face the card. Then he punched in for me and put the card in the rack. “Yours will always be here, next to the number ten.”

There were now eighteen cards in a rack that held about thirty. Six cards displayed the position of ‘Bartender.’ There was a big sign next to the clock that said, “DO NOT punch in early unless requested to do so by management.”

Richie pointed across the storeroom highlighting the products, starting on the right.

“Walk-in cooler. Beer kegs, longnecks, wine, liquor, and mixers all the way on the left. Soda tanks against the wall. It’s all marked. Anything you pull from here, you right it down. Over there, on the clipboard. For liquor it’s a one for one, which means that you bring in empty bottle back and take out a full bottle. Leave empties in the bin.” He pointed to a plastic container on the cement floor. “And turn the light out when you leave the room. Eddie forgets,” he said as he gestures for me to leave first.

As he flipped off the light Eddie was standing outside the door with two light blue long-sleeved uniform shirts and a blue jean vest. The Something Else logo was embroidered onto the back of the vest. “North County Chic,” I thought to myself.

“These should fit.” Eddie said. “Your jeans look okay. Buy some black tennis shoes. The white ones look stupid. Come dressed for work. We don’t have a dressing room and you only use the public bathrooms to take a piss.”

Richie was listening and said “Hey, lighten up. Bud likes this guy. He’s gonna be good. He’s gonna help us. Now go show him the bar.” Eddie cowered at the reprimand but nodded and turned.

It was a short walk across the brown shag carpet in the dimly lit showroom. The first thing Eddie did was go to the DJ booth, duck under the opening, and hit the power switch on the amplifier. Then he moved to the Teac reel to reel tape player that was pre-loaded with a tape and hit “play.” I recognized the tune as ‘Stayin’ Alive’ from a movie, ‘Saturday Night Fever’ with that new actor, John Travolta. All the ladies loved him. The volume was way too high to he turned it down quickly.

Few people in the US knew much about the trio called the Bee Gee’s, though they were somewhat popular in their home country, the UK. They burst onto the American scene with the album and to me they seemed a bit too commercial. White jump suits, gold medallions featured on moderately hairy chests. With all that curly hair. It didn’t look natural. But what did I know?

Eddie was a quirky kind of a guy. Skinny and about 5’ 6” with wavy dark brown hair, matching sideburns, a way too long mustache to match. I noticed that his hair was perfectly combed and didn’t move much. I don’t begrudge any guy a little hair spray, but his overspray was a bit much.

He ducked out of the booth and hustled to the bar, ducking again at the opening with the solid bar top.

Before I could follow, he turned and said, “Well don’t just stand there.”

I made the quick duck, entering my new semi-professional domain. Let ‘s get to it.

Promptly at 5:00 pm Teri, the opening bartender, walked through the door. She waved to the two of us behind the bar, and made her way to the storeroom to punch in. She was wearing black pants and a halter top and had two hangers over her shoulder that I suspected were her uniform.

I knew her. Well, I knew OF her. She graduated from Virgil C. McClure High School a year ahead of me. She was one of the cool kids. She was best friends with one of my buddy’s older brothers’ girlfriends. I think she was a cheerleader, or maybe just a Pom Pom girl. I can’t remember. It seemed like a long time ago.

But I do remember that she was one of the cool kids…the jocks. There were other, lesser ‘status’ categories; the Freaks, the Nerds, the Psycho’s and then there we were the rest of us…kind of non-descript outsiders. A lot of us went to work after school was dismissed and didn’t go to the football games on Friday night. Prom? Dad wasn’t springing for powder blue tuxedo and a boutonniere. And it was on a weekend. I worked weekends. But who the fuck cared. A lot had happened since high school. Life happened. It’s the great equalizer.

Teri was cute in high school. Now she was a very pretty woman. ‘She has matured nicely,’ I thought to myself.

I had seen her the previous Saturday with Mort and I first made our debut at the new disco. She worked at the far end of the bar though, so we didn’t interact. I guess we were gonna interact now.

I saw Eddie shake his head as she closed the door behind her, but he said nothing.

Teri seemed to be taking her time in getting ready and Eddie noticed. He looked at his watch and determined that he should see what the holdup was. He did the duck and made his way to the storeroom door. He paused for a few seconds. I thought he would knock. But he didn’t.

As he opened the door, I heard a female voice screech “Hey!”

Eddie just stood in the doorway staring. Unluckily, I wasn’t in a position to see inside the storeroom so I could only speculate as to the degree of nakedness that he encountered.

But did Eddie retreat? No. He just smiled and said “I see you’re already punched in. Hurry up.” Then he shut the door with a little smirk on his face and returned to get me trained.

“Oh, so that’s how it is…” I thought.

After the full orientation to the bar setup, I learned about the NCR’s…how to use the cash register. Tonight, I was just shadowing Eddie. He had me cut stocked garnishes…lots of garnishes. Limes in eights. Half slices of oranges. And lemon twists. Let’s not forget the twists. Oh, and skewers of olives and cherries for Martinis and Manhattans, though Eddie explained that they would be few and far between. We would sell lots of beer to the men and white liquor cocktails to the ladies.

We opened at 7:00 pm with half-priced drinks until 9:00 pm and the bar began to fill after 8:00 pm.

Eddie worked the station, and I followed directions. I put my head down, watched and listened, and did the work. It got busy. Crazy busy. I retrieved beer, poured wine, kept the glasses washed and stocked, and wiped the bar.

At the far end of the bar Teri ruled the roost. She had full command of the station and handled it, along with two cocktail waitresses, Madeline and Cassandra. Teri was calm and efficient. In the middle station was someone I hadn’t seen on my earlier visit; a guy named Dan. He came in at 6:30 pm, punched in and went right to work.

Every hour Richie would drop by, take a register reading and check on us. The place seemed to have tight controls on costs and monitored sales volume methodically.

I had no idea what went on anywhere else in the club except behind the bar that night. The music blared but I had no time, or inclination to enjoy it. After all, it was Disco, and I was a Rocker. But I did poke my head up periodically to appreciate the attractive members of the opposite sex.

Richie let me go at 12:00 midnight, when the crowd began to thin out a little. I was the extra; the one in training and they could save on payroll. Tomorrow night Richie said I would stay to closing.

By the time I hit the front door I was beat. People were still coming in but there was no line. Last call would be at 1:00 am.

I was hyped up. I needed a beer and maybe a shot of Tequila. Durty Nellie’s was only about ten minutes away and I knew the band would play all the way until 1:00 am. It was time for some Lynard Skynard.