Tag Archives: alcohol

100 Words, 100 Days: Day 97. On Repetition.

You go to a pub on Saturday night. The music is crap, the singers are atrocious (it’s Karaoke – what did you expect?), the beer is overpriced and the staff are cranky. So much for your night out, yes?

Next Saturday you resolve to do something different – but you don’t. You do the same thing as you did the week before, and the week before that, and the week before that.

Insanity is defined by psychologists and psychiatrists as repeating the same actions over and over again and expecting different results each time. But will you change your habits? Can you?


Drink Talk: Conversations with a Bartender.

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Bartender: How are you doing? What can I get you?

Clueless Customer: Hey, you haven’t got Kopparberg Berry?

YFNB: Yes.

CC: Great. Can I have two please?

YFNB: We don’t have any, sorry.

CC: But you just told me you did?

We don't have it.

YFNB: No I didn’t.

CC: Yes, you did.

YFNB: You asked me if I didn’t sell it. I said yes, we don’t sell it.

CC: I don’t get you.

YFNB: Ever hear of the song “Yes, We Have No Bananas”?

CC: Years ago.

YFNB: Well then, it’s a case of “Yes, We Have No Kopparberg.”

CC: *ponders* Two Corona, then.

YFNB: Right you be. *serves CC two Corona*

CC: I still don’t get you.

YFNB: *sigh* And sadly you never will.


Warning: This post contains language of an adult nature

This has been coming for a while, for a long, long while. It’s time for me to move on. I’ve had it up to here with selling booze to people who would be better of without it. These people are fucking assholes, wankers of the highest order. I am not the ideal representative for the licensed trade. I’d get more satisfaction from making and selling cappuccinos and frappes to those who know what a real drink is.

I’m fed up with my job – not just in a general ‘pissed off’ way, but also at a deep philosophical level. Every time I head into work on a weekend evening, I feel a little bit of my soul die. I’ve mentioned elsewhere that there are certain aspects of my job that I do like: the food service end of things, that’s my forte. If I could condense my part-time situation to just lunch service, that would suit me. But I don’t know if that would suit my employers (who, don’t get me wrong, I like – regardless of my differences with them).

It’s the drunks I’m beginning to despise: the Nancies (not you, nrhatch), the Daves, the Christies, the Johns. For God’s sake, people, can’t you see what you’re doing to yourselves? Do you even give a shit? No? Then why the fuck should I? I’ve better things to be doing.

I’m beginning to believe that my current physical malaise has much to do with my emotional and spiritual well-being. When I’m in a ‘bad place’, I can’t write. And when I can’t write, part of my reason for living is put on the back-burner. That, for me, is not good enough.

Bob, you sing it so well, my friend.

What else would I do? I don’t know – but I will find something. I can investigate ways to make money from writing. Any tips?