#online bartending course

[barmasterstraining-blog]

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[barmasterstraining-blog]

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[barmasterstraining-blog]

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[bartenderconfidential-blog]

Want to become a bartender? My first bartending job.

I graduated college and had no idea what to do next. I had a passion for writing and music, but had no idea how to turn it into a vehicle for financial stability. I had not seen enough of the world to settle down and get a job, and maybe I never will. To date I have never lived in the same place for more than two years. So what to do?

Upon returning to New York City after college I landed a job working the door of a club in Times Square. I was excited by the fact that I was working in the center of the world, I met plenty of celebrities, beautiful women, and I was getting paid well on top of it.

If you go to a club you'll often see a doorman with a list, presumably it has the names of those who have reservations and are cool enough to get into the club. Mine consisted of song lyrics I was writing. I would hold the line of the club long enough for someone to introduce themselves, ask how to get in, I'd say some cliche line like "I can think of 20 things", they'd get the hint and offer a handshake with a folded twenty dollar bill, and lo and behold, their name miraculously appeared on my list. Access granted.

Fun job overall, but doormen aren't the most liked people and we frequently had to deal with fights. I wanted to work smarter not harder, and I figured that bartending was a skill I could utilize anywhere in the world so long as I spoke the language.

I paid $50 for an online course of drink recipes and basics, then I guest bartended one night at a friend's bar. One of my fellow bouncers at the club got wind that I could bartend (barely) and he informed me that his friend had a bar right under the 59th street bridge on first avenue and needed a bartender. He made a phone call, I went to the bar, met the owner and his hot Brazilian wife, and was hired on the spot.

I show up the next day, excited and nervous, ready to start or quit. It was a small bar, nothing fancy, and the owner gave me my training. The extent of it was this, "prices are listed by the cash register, ice and booze are downstairs, there's a bat behind the bar in case of any trouble, at the end of the night leave the money in the safe downstairs and don't close before 2am. Oh, here are the keys. Make sure you lock the gate and double check it when you leave."

So here I am at 25, given the keys to a bar from a man I've known for about 35 minutes, and one night of guest bartending is the extent of my practical knowledge in this line of work. What have I gotten myself into? Later that evening the owner calls. "There's an envelope behind the register for Joe from New Jersey. Give it to him when he comes in."

Sure enough not long after that a man in a trench-coat enters. "I'm Joe from New Jersey."

That's all he had to say and he knew it. I pick up the envelope, squeeze it in my hand and could only imagine how much cash was in there. The stack felt about one inch thick. Was it hundreds? What happened to the last bartender that worked here I wondered. Very shady.

"This must be for you" I say and hand it to him. He places it in his pocket and says "Alright take it easy."

I'm certainly going to die in this place, it was just a matter of how. I call my friend who got me the job and I ask him who the owner is. Should've asked beforehand. It turns out he's a bookie with mafia ties.

Ok, so the place is a front. Money laundering. I'm here on my first day bartending, and I just made an exchange. I shouldn't mention to the owner that my father is a detective. Best to stay off that radar.

For some reason I'm intrigued by the place, so I stay and I work here for about 8 months. I met very seedy people, pathetic regulars, one guy who would smoke an entire pack of cigarettes from 4-7pm, and would dip his fingers in the ashes of his tray and make ash drawings on a sheet of paper. He was actually pretty good and I can almost remember his name.

I was paid in cash, I could drink behind the bar, my friends would come in and I wouldn't charge them, I played whatever music I wanted, handed envelopes of cash over to shady guys who would only say their first name and where they were from, and hooked up with a few different girls downstairs by the ice machine, one of whom would give me a large tip upon leaving which made me feel like a male prostitute which was great.

I felt alive and was experiencing a part of life some would describe as the underbelly and it was fantastic. I knew that what was cool at 25 would be pathetic at 35, but here I was at 25 and I soaked it up.

I was playing music in a band, acting in an Off Broadway play, and bartending in a dive bar under the Queensboro bridge. I was living the high life, making memories, and I knew it wasn't forever because I didn't want it to be. I always kept my eye on that bat behind the bar, wondering when I'd have to use it and if it would all be worth it. Fast forward to today. Totally worth it.