Bartenders Need Game, Too

We all know that game is a requirement for practically everybody. It doesn’t matter what job you have, you still need some game if you want to pull more hot girls than you would normally get. With that kernel of truth in the back of my mind, it’s still entertaining to observe guys blowing what we’d think as a layup. Not even bartenders are immune.

 

Future Night Game Workshop Student

I happened to overhear a bartender trying to game one of his customers. I’m not sure how long he was spitting game. I came in on the end. It could have been 5 minutes, or very brief. I’m betting on the latter. Here’s how it went down. The bartender was chatting with a blonde shorty. She had a smile on her face as he talked. He was already talking fast and with animation.

Bartender: Spain and France and England and…

Blonde: Yeah!

Bartender [talking even faster and more animated]: …and Colombia and Mexico and Brazil! We should hang out sometime!

Blonde: … … Yeaahhhhhhh… …

*Awkward silence*

They quickly ended the awkward silence. As if by mutual, unspoken agreement, the blonde walked away and the bartender focused on getting a drink for someone else. At the same time. I wish I could have heard more of it.

—————–

On another night I was talking to one of the bartenders. This one appeared to have some style to him. Somewhat of a rocker look, aided by his shoulder length hair. He seemed like a cool guy, and gave me the impression that his game was tight. He was cocky. I was curious. Plus, it was his home field. So when two girls walked up to the bar, I let him do his thing.

The tall brunette was smiling at him. You could tell that she liked what she saw. The bartender said hi to her, and she said hi back, still smiling.

Bartender: So, what would you like to drink?

Brunette: Oh, I’ll take a Red Bull Vodka.

Bartender: You shouldn’t drink the Red Bull.

Brunette: Really? And why not?

Bartender: Every time a girl drinks Red Bull, her breath smells like throw up.

*Awkward silence*

The brunette looked at her friend. The both looked at me. I looked at the bartender. His expression showed that he knew he screwed up. Somewhat surprised that what he said didn’t go over well, and yet unsure of what to do next. The brunette then looked down at the floor. I stepped in to save it, and kept the convo going while the bartender made the drinks. It ended shortly after that.

Afterwards, I could see that this bartender lost confidence. He didn’t really have much to say after the bomb. I felt bad for him. And yet I felt good, knowing that he would have to work at his game just like everyone else. I’m an asshole.