Post by Van Wieren on Aug 19, 2016 1:18:10 GMT -6
The bar was a little smoky, whiffs and tendrils dancing in the air, moving from place to place like sparse clouds. He couldn't help thinking this is how people get cancer, by no fault of their own. He was a smoker himself but he didn't do it around anyone, at least not trapped in a room together. Outside was fair game, but he wouldn't suck on a cancer stick in a room full of people. It was just asking for blood on your hands. The dimmed lights made things a little hard to see further in the back, but the bouncer would take care of anything. It was just the fact that he preferred being on the know about his surroundings incase he had to conquer and defend. He'd been in enough situations over the years to know the worst came out of even the most positive things.
He could hear people coughing and he wished he owned the bar, that way he could tell the idiots to take it outside. Then again, it might be the idiots who were coughing. He moved behind the deep red wood bar top, black leather long gloved hands wiping it down from possible water stains and vomit from someone a little too drunk earlier on. That took a small bucket of bleach and making sure no one sat there while he did it, then wiping it down with a clean towel. He didn't mind grunt work, it was what he was best at. He didn't have a college education, or a high school degree. Hell, he didn't even have a G.E.D. So, he took what he could get.
”Van!,” the main bartender shouted in his direction.
He lifted his head up from passing out coasters and arched an eyebrow. 'Yeah?,” he threw back at them, already knowing exactly what they wanted.
”Take over for me, I'm taking a thirty minute break,” they said, taking off their green apron and throwing it at him.
He caught it easily enough. ”What's in it for me?,” he asked, smirking as he started wrapping it around his waist and tying it up in the back.
”Extra pay sound good?,” they hedged, almost insecure.
Grinning, he snapped his fingers, jerking his hips to the side. ”Perfect. Go have your break!,” he commanded cheerfully, waving them off as they walked past with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. It wouldn't be the first time he had been a stand in for a bartender, he remembers being nineteen and being asked behind the counter to take over. What a blunder that had been. Spilling drinks, getting orders wrong and even getting a drink thrown in his face for saying the wrong thing. He doesn't remember it now, but the person had been offensive and he decided to be right back. Well, that was how he got fired from there.
Now he managed well enough, able to keep up with the patrons at the drop of a hat and even learned how to do a little flair, but since he couldn't get a bartending license, it was impossible to travel from place to place doing this full time. How unfortunate, right? He went through the motions, making drinks for people for the next ten minutes and even had to light the cigarette of some woman, while he internally wanted to scream at her for being so inconsiderate. He saw the looks on of disgust on the other bar top sitters and felt bad for them. But he smiled at the woman anyway and asked her what she wanted to drink.
Another five minutes passed and he needed a cigarette himself, almost feeling ashamed. He'd go outside once the bartender came back, but right now he had to wait it out.
He could hear people coughing and he wished he owned the bar, that way he could tell the idiots to take it outside. Then again, it might be the idiots who were coughing. He moved behind the deep red wood bar top, black leather long gloved hands wiping it down from possible water stains and vomit from someone a little too drunk earlier on. That took a small bucket of bleach and making sure no one sat there while he did it, then wiping it down with a clean towel. He didn't mind grunt work, it was what he was best at. He didn't have a college education, or a high school degree. Hell, he didn't even have a G.E.D. So, he took what he could get.
”Van!,” the main bartender shouted in his direction.
He lifted his head up from passing out coasters and arched an eyebrow. 'Yeah?,” he threw back at them, already knowing exactly what they wanted.
”Take over for me, I'm taking a thirty minute break,” they said, taking off their green apron and throwing it at him.
He caught it easily enough. ”What's in it for me?,” he asked, smirking as he started wrapping it around his waist and tying it up in the back.
”Extra pay sound good?,” they hedged, almost insecure.
Grinning, he snapped his fingers, jerking his hips to the side. ”Perfect. Go have your break!,” he commanded cheerfully, waving them off as they walked past with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. It wouldn't be the first time he had been a stand in for a bartender, he remembers being nineteen and being asked behind the counter to take over. What a blunder that had been. Spilling drinks, getting orders wrong and even getting a drink thrown in his face for saying the wrong thing. He doesn't remember it now, but the person had been offensive and he decided to be right back. Well, that was how he got fired from there.
Now he managed well enough, able to keep up with the patrons at the drop of a hat and even learned how to do a little flair, but since he couldn't get a bartending license, it was impossible to travel from place to place doing this full time. How unfortunate, right? He went through the motions, making drinks for people for the next ten minutes and even had to light the cigarette of some woman, while he internally wanted to scream at her for being so inconsiderate. He saw the looks on of disgust on the other bar top sitters and felt bad for them. But he smiled at the woman anyway and asked her what she wanted to drink.
Another five minutes passed and he needed a cigarette himself, almost feeling ashamed. He'd go outside once the bartender came back, but right now he had to wait it out.
