Clutch that matey! XXII

Hmm.

Yesterday, we had a new member of staff, Jennifer, who is 19. I have to say she had the look which made men turn their heads, and the demeanour of someone who acts younger than who she is... reminds me of someone whom I know (and don't give me crap as though I don't know the people I know).

Work last night was pretty much ok... a little rough early in the evening, but after 9pm or so the place settled down and we weren't as busy as I and my colleague, Lynette, feared would be.

It just so happened that a bunch of people came into the pub, and the 'leader' of this group was someone whom I had recognised as leading the same bunch of men and women and literally guzzling their way through last thursday evening. Apparently, there wasn't enough space downstairs (they had a party of 6) and they wanted to go upstairs.

Now, not knowing what they wanted to do (be it drinking wine, having makan or just lazing around sipping on cognac) they asked me if it was ok to go upstairs to Townhouse, which is a wine bar. I said there should be no problem, and they trooped up after asking me to bring up a bottle of whisky they had left behind last thursday.

This is the thing: although Molly Malones and Townhouse are affiliated through McCraic holdings which bind the two outlets of the same establishment, management of the Pub and Wine bar are two seperate components. Hence, the folks up at Townhouse are always on friendly terms, and staff from both ends share the same facilities, the same kitchen, but different menus.

Here we have the party of 6 who have decided to go upstairs, but not purchase any wines from Townhouse. That is a big problem. The management (for Townhouse) seem to have this policy that if you do not purchase any wines (after all, this is a wine bar), you are not allowed to sit within the area known significantly as 'Townhouse'.

So after this was pointed out to the party of 6 by one very vivacious Townhouse member of staff (and the manager of Townhouse also pointed that very important bit of trivia out to me), they trooped back downstairs where they complained about the waiter's sense of courtesy, while sipping on their previously-bought bottle of whisky.

Being the waiter who served these people, I was doing my best to be apologetic, but at the back of my mind... I was thinking: in the first place, I wouldn't have the gall to buy a bottle of liquor from the pub and then insist on enjoying it in a relatively 'higher-class' vicinity. In fact, I'll probably call first to reserve a place (especially if there are a bunch of people coming along) so as to avoid such entanglements. Whatever the case is... I have no further comment.

Right.

Mother shoved a very political question at me the other day:

"if you had a choice between having your mother go away all the time and her staying at home all the time, which would you choose"

Now, having grown up in an environment whereby your Mother is particularly sensitive towards inter-personal relations and the protocols which exist within the living space... I have developed a sense of political-correctness possibly unsurpassed. Even my brother doesn't have it. Come to think of it, my brother doesn't even have a sense of humour.

So I answered (in typical politcally-correct fashion):

"I would have my mother stay at home, but go out from time to time"

LOL

I sang a couple of tunes later in the evening, after my shift was over.. and I took over the 'celtic revival' bit which Gerry had kicked off by singing 'Whisky In The Jar', and there was the Townhouse chef (who was Irish by birth) who immediately jumped up and bellowed along. I also sang 'Peaceful, Easy Feeling' and 'Take Me Home, Country Roads' before retiring for the evening.

I was on the way out when I bumped into the chef (by the way, the chef is a she) again, and she was in a state of 'total admiration' towards my 'singing ability' and asked if she could be my 'groupie'. Lest I sound like I'm patting myself on the back, she already had more than a jug of Tiger beer in her by the time I was done singing... so she was probably sloshed out.


Cheers,

Crawldaddy