How to Pick Up Your Bartender

It's a full-service establishment around here, and don't you forget it.

Allow me to tell you what to do (and what not to do) when you find yourself smitten with the barmaid (I suppose it could work for the barman as well, but most of the anecdotes that spawned this list are from my experiences and my sister's tales of working behind the bar in Scotland, and we're both ladies, y'see).


First off, I suppose it warrants mentioning that since men seem to find women in the beverage service industry very appealing (guys, correct me if I'm wrong here, but this is what I've heard), so you should probably keep in it in mind that she deals with a lot of douches throwing themselves her way, so you'll need to work pretty hard to prove you're not one of said douches. There are a few easy ways to do this.

1.) Be careful with the tipping. Too little and she thinks you're an asshole. Too much and it seems like you're trying to buy her attention. Always tip fairly ($1 per drink, maybe more for cocktails. Probably lots more if you order sissy cocktails.), with the occasional sympathy over-tip if you go in on a really busy night and feel bad for her. This is something a bartender appreciates over time, which brings me to...

2.) Cultivate status as a "regular." We like regulars. They are comforting. We know they don't get out of control, we know they don't run out on bills, and they're not going to go for the reach-around if we run down to change a keg (all of those things are unappealing in a dude, by the way, so don't do those things). Also, a bartender is much more likely to chat with a regular than some one-off dude who waltzes in and throws a wad of money on the bar and then expects she'll take him home. Also, being a regular means coming in for non-busy hours, which is more conducive to chatting with a non-busy bartender.

3.) You are what you drink (in that we remember what you drink). Don't drink sissy drinks. Nothing with "Breeze" in the name. In fact, you should get into the theme or specialty of the establishment itself. Some young men once asked me to select their beers for them, which was great. It allowed me to nerd out about Julius Echter and Fuller's ESB. Chances are, the bartender enjoys a tipple herself, so it's a nice icebreaker to ask her opinion on a beverage selection. There really is nothing worse than rattling off the tap list and getting hit with the old "I'll just have a Mich Light." I, in my growing beer snobbery, have begun to expand my disdain toward guys who unadventerously go for the Bass Ale... yes, it's a solid beer, but c'mon! Live a little!

4.) You may notice the spot where she's spending a lot of time washing glasses. The sinks may necessitate bending over at the waist. Do not sit in front of that spot. You will be able to see right down her shirt. She will know that you can see right down her shirt. She will find that it creepy if you sit there.

5.) No matter where you're sitting, don't stare. You won't be able to will her into conversation with you. You'll only succeed in augmenting the feeling of being a caged animal. Wait until she comes by to check on you to make light conversation. Once you cultivate the regular status, familiarity will grow and you'll be in business.

6.) Don't get wasted and ambush her. Don't get wasted and stay as she's closing the place down. Don't leave your number unsolicited. If you get wasted, you should probably keep to yourself, because she's going to remember the idiot things you said even if you don't. This harks back to my cardinal rule for picking up chicks: do not be more wasted than she is if you really want to score. This is tricky because bartenders are stone-sober. Or, they're supposed to be (at least in N'Hampshah).

7.) Take a friend. Become regulars together. This will help you to avoid sitting at the bar and silently waiting for her to talk to/look at you (which is creepy.... at all times, you want to avoid being creepy.). I don't tend to engage men who are solo at the bar (fearing the creep factor), but a pair or small group is manageable.

Above all, I think the important thing is that you must crawl before you can walk... befriend before you go for the digits. There are plenty of guys who hit on lady bartenders in alarming ways. Don't be that guy.



As an extra special bonus, I have a few important "Overheard From Behind the Bar" guy-to-girl pick up (or take home) lines that I'd like to share as a cautionary tale (be ye not so ridiculous):

"Mmmm. You smell fertile. No, seriously. That's a compliment."

(I am not making that up. I really overheard that. I very nearly puked into my sink. The sad thing is, the dude had only had two beers. )

"You're gorgeous. I just want you to know that."
"We don't need to have sex. We could just hold each other."
"I'm not just a one-night stand. I need love to get erect."

(These gems are all from one very wasted dude. I am also not making them up. It should be noted that in the latter line, he sort of pronounced it "luuuv." You'll be pleased to know, however, that the gentleman went home alone.)

Wicked long day.

For you non-New Englanders, I must apologize. I am reintroducing the word "wicked" into my vocabulary these days. As much as possible, actually. It makes me feel at home. It's not unlike how, in New York, I could say "Excuse me" to someone on the subway in such a tone that what I was really saying was "Hey, you're a [wicked] shithead." These are the little things we do to feel settled and connected to our surroundings.

Anyway, on to this post's main [inane] feature.

Today was my first double shift, meaning I worked from opening to the end of kitchen service. It was, as the title indicates, a wicked long day. My dogs were really barking (that's what real waitresses say, right?) by the time I sat down in the driver's seat of my car at 10:35pm (12 hours after I left it).

It was pretty busy day for a Wednesday, and I had quite enough to handle when, shortly after the lunch rush was tapering off, I got a huge splinter in my right index finger. It was from one of the baskets we use for serving sandwiches and whatnot. It was also my second splinter in a week (the last splinter before these two had to have been when I was, like, six). It hurt. A whole lot.

Tweezers were produced by a fellow waitress, and one of the cooks was pressed into service as an impromptu surgeon. Poor fellow. We've only just met and he found himself digging around in my index finger for a piece of wood the size of a rail tie, while I covered my eyes with my unmolested hand, yelping like a big sissy crybaby. "Just take it out!" I screeched between yelps. I sweated, whined, and felt nauseated. Mike, the cook, apologized profusely and finally removed the offending sapling.

Some hydrogen peroxide, triple antibiotic ointment, and a Snoopy BandAid later, I felt much improved. I told everyone the harrowing tale, and informed them that our long national nightmare was over before they even knew it'd begun. Everyone seemed qui te gratified that I bore the strain with such a stiff upper lip.

In other work-related news, I have a few tips to the dining public:

1) Tipping on a credit card. Granted, it's not optimal as we your servers get taxed on that money, but we don't begrudge you the convenience. However, if you're going to try to get your tab to a nice round number, I'd humbly suggest leaving a tip with a random bunch of change only if the total tip if over 20%. Otherwise, your server may well shake their fist at your back as you leave. Similary, random pocket dumpage is lame. Yesterday, I received a fistful of change, an opened perfume sample (Dior's Pure Poison), and a soda can tab. I can't pay any bills with those things, people.

2) Give a heads up before you change tables. We divide the restaurant into sections, and you may be messing with the system if you move. It's fine if you do move, just let us know. It's odd to discover that the table you were serving has mysteriously disappeared.

3) I'll make it my business to be friendly, helpful, and charming. If you do the same, I guarantee I'll be running by to check on you just to hear your voice and see your smiling face. Sounds stupid, but a little friendly rapport goes a long way to getting some top-notch service (we get treated like hell by so many other people... why don't YOU try to restore our faith in humanity?). However, if you're a moody attractive man dining solo, it's likely I'll be harassing you just to see what your Byronic deal is, so you know....

4) I've discovered that I love carding people. I feel drunk with power. So, if you look, like, under 60, you'd better have some ID. I love looking for those holograms. Also, looking at IDs is a lot like looking at license plates on a roadtrip; wicked fun.

I'm actually rather enjoying the waitressing. It's hard work, I'm not sooo great at it yet, and the rewards are too often squarely resting with people whose aim it is (or seems to be) not rewarding you very much. BUT, it's a nice place, and I have this smiling face awaiting me when I get home:

Hard to argue with that.

Reading is FUN-damental (to "getting there")

This is a full week old now, but I've been drawn away from the bloggy-verse lately, busy melting into the sidewalk. Anyway, forgive me, but I felt this appropos of our discussion on picking up young ladies, though this could certainly be useful for we women looking chat up men (or other women... whatever you're into). Many thanks to Seth for the reporting on this one.

The Guardian's Culture Vulture blog has an entry about judging/smiling/hitting on people based on what you see they're reading.

For those of you troubled by the lingering idea (instilled in youth by parents obsessed with the benefits of "enjoying the sunshine") that a life spent reading is a life half-lived, your worries are over. Not only does sitting with your nose in a book positively influence others' opinion of you, it could actually - get this - lead to sex. A third of those surveyed said that they "would consider flirting with someone based on their choice of literature". It's finally official, people. Reading is hot.

But before you trip off to the park clad in your most fetching sun hat and clutching your copy of the latest Jilly Cooper - be warned. Not just any book will do. Erotic fiction, horror, self-help books and the dreaded chick-lit were all, in fact, deemed turn-offs when it came to love between the covers. The genre most likely to help you pull - the itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny yellow polka dot bikini of the books world - is the classics, followed by biography and modern literary fiction (think Zadie Smith and Sebastian Faulks, rather than Dan Brown and Martina Cole). Forget the gym: if you want to raise your dating game, head down to your local library and start borrowing.

Too true. Nothing leads to romance faster than brushing hands with someone reaching for the same Camus novel at the library. The brilliant thing about cruising the reading populace of a city like New York, is that you have a built-in conversation starter AND a sort of gauge of what kind of person they are. While I don't know that I've ever been hit on with my reading material as the impetus for attack, I'm intrigued by what my reading material says about me.

For instance, would the cute boy across the subway be intrigued/moved if he saw me weeping quietly over the first chapter of The Teammates, or just weirded out? No, no, don't answer that.

Of course, it all leads back to the theory that you are what you like. When invited to a person's home for the first time, you peruse the bookshelves, look at the DVD collection, examine the CDs. Though you couch this vetting as a friendly self-tour, really you are trying to determine if your new friend or paramour is some kind of wackjob or sap or a fan of Jewel's poetry.

It's all very unfair. Some of us may not have seen many seminal works of popular cinema, and some of us may think that The Time Traveler's Wife sucked ass. That doesn't make such a person a social pariah.

So, what books are total dealbreakers? What ones have you stripping your clothes off on the spot?

I'll start.

What gives me pause: A Million Little Pieces (ew. Who can tolerate that style?), books about the Yankees (obviously), anything by Jack Kerouac (again. ew.), and while I'll not brush aside readers of Safran Foer or Franzen, I'll think, "well, you read, that's good... but that's a bit, you know, obvious." Most poetry (I do like poetry, just not in a bring it for the commute, sort of way. And, if you can concentrate on a Wallace Stevens collection for that long, you may well be just a teense too serious for me).

What I find endearing: Harry Potter (I hate myself for it, but it's true), C.S. Lewis, The World According to Garp, Vonnegut, Sedaris, Chabon.

What'll likely have me gagging for it, if you will: The Cider House Rules, The Dubliners, ANYTHING by Flann O'Brien (The Third Policeman and At Swim-Two-Birds especially), Halberstram's books on the Red Sox, J.M. Coetzee, Chabon's Summerland. Steinbeck's Travels with Charley.

How to Pick Up Chicks (As Told By Same)

I'm going to make a brief foray into service journalism (ahem, after a fashion).

As a young lady who occasionally wears cute outfits and smells nice, applies lip gloss, and attends gatherings wherein there is consumption of alcoholic beverages, I have had a fair amount of exposure to the romantic or lascivious overtures of men.

Over time, it has become clearer to me, gentlemen, that there are some of you out there who know what you're doing in the talking-to-women department, some of you who blunder into success, some of you who strike out swinging for the fences, and some of you who should probably be medically castrated. I have gathered a fair bit of anecdotal intelligence in these matters. This, combined with my greatest qualification (I am a girl, so I know how girls think....this is what makes us invaluable resources to you, the hapless male) and my propensity for grueling social analysis should, I hope, shed some light on that most shot-in-the-dark event: The Pick-Up.

First off, since we're all friends here, let me just say that this advice likely does not apply to unsavory women (read: sluts). I don't advocate pursuit of such females. Nor do I think they really warrant the extra effort. If you wish to pursue the lesser woman, by all means... offer to buy her a Bacardi and Coke, gesture at your clever t-shirt slogan and raise your eyebrow suggestively. Just be sure to hit the condom machine in the men's room before you drag her drunk ass home, mmkay? No, what you'll read here will help you in the wooing of actual women.* Ones with brains in their heads and beer in their refrigerators.

The Subtle Art of Chatting Someone Up

1. Assume that she is not stupid. Give us a bit of credit, gents. It's likely that our social wherewithal is more finely tuned than yours. Gather your wits about you and assume she has all of hers, that'll make the conversation livelier. And speaking of your wits about you.....

2. You should probably not be drunker than she is. That can only end poorly. Of course, we all know that the sauce lubricates these situations considerably, so I'd shoot for 1.5 beer's worth of buzz (adjust to accomodate your body mass and tolerance). This way there's something in your hand, you have a beverage that will eventually need refreshing (bonus tip: you're so in if she offers to buy you one, and it's pretty awesome to offer to get her one as well), but you are lucid and attentive (to more than just her breasts. The stare-at-the-chest thing is overdone. Which handily brings us to.....).

3. Do not be obvious. You are not a bear. She is not a bunny. Seriously, the times I have been successfully "picked up" are those in which I did not realize it was happening right away. I'm not suggesting a spy games level of subterfuge here, but rather, behaving like an adult who wishes to converse with another adult. We are all aware of the undercurrent at bars and parties where there are people of both sexes, so there's really no need to saunter up and try your best line. Lines are gross. Sauntering is gross (while were at it, you shouldn't sidle either).

This is where I admit that matters get sticky. It is difficult to not be obvious when you're trying to chat someone up. However, it is possible. Based on my experience, not being obvious was a happy accident for the gentlemen in question. However, I think it is completely possible to manufacture this comfortable and natural way of approaching strangers into whose pants you could see yourself trying to get. (Side note on directness, an approach favored by some: I agree that the "I'm cute, you're cute, let's hook up" approach has its devoted practitioners and its efficacy has been shown in controlled laboratory environments. Warning: You have to be really good in order to pull it off without seeming like a dick. Either you do it serviceably well and may therefore be assumed a troublesome player-type or you're blundering into "Oh, that's sad, he thinks he's picking me up in a 'direct, cut-the-bullshit manner' that he really cannot pull off"-territory. You have to look like George Clooney or have the kind of overwhelming charm that could make you an accomplished scab salesman. No joke. Utter frankness is an advanced maneuver, which, when performed in a ham-fisted manner, can come off creepy and cocky as hell. No semi-sober intelligent lady wants to date or sleep with an arrogant bastard or an unrepentant womanizer. Unless he looks like George Clooney.)

My best suggestion would be to avoid situations where you're going in as if to a suicide mission in the Mekong Delta. Consider the players. You, her. Who does she have around her? Friends? New acquaintances? Are they women or men? This is where your own women friends become invaluable (I hope you're reading carefully, Idiot Brigade). We are much better at sussing out the vital details of the people in a room than you are. We can perform quiet and effective recon, help you to weed out the taken, the psychotic, the slutty. Not only that, but our mere presence makes it obvious to young ladies you may desire that you are not a creep. Your wing woman may well be your best asset. You and your wing man look like a couple of dudes on the make. And while we all enjoy flirtation and sexual intrigue, two men winging for one another is... say it with me now... obvious. And that is not what you want to be. Furthermore, your wing woman adds an element of intrigue that may pique your paramour's curiosity. "Who is that girl? Is she with him? Well, dammit, pay attention to me! I'm cuter than she is!" And she'll get a little thrill of victory when the wing woman makes herself scarce so you can focus on her. See? The ladies engage in a bit of healthy competition now and then, no reason you can't indulge it.

So, you're slightly buzzed, you have a lady friend with you, now what? Mingle! Engage the target-lady's group as a group. See? We're all just people talking. Make eye contact with her and smile, but don't make a beeline right away (see notes on sauntering and sidling). Be confident. Even if you think you're punching above your weight, don't act like it. Forget that defeatist attitude! If you engage her first as an intelligent human being (contrary to some reports, girls are people too), she'll take notice and think "This guy's pretty cool. I enjoy talking to him. I find intellectual stimulation to be sexually stimulating." and then she'll be willing to find a corner booth or spot at the edge of the crowd to engage in a tête-à-tête.

4. Ok. You've got her alone (high five!). Don't get too drunk and don't get creepy (See #3. And remember #1. Still stands). If you have followed my advice and engaged her as a person first, this should go smoothly. You're making eye contact. You're listening. You're remembering that she is not stupid, so you're not talking down to her (I have been spoken to as if I were a silly girl in a pinafore more often than I'd care to remember.... needless to say, those dudes saw the back of me but quick). You're not behaving like a sycophant (almost as irritating as condescension because... it's an obvious ploy to get into my favor. See #3).

Here, I'd like to offer some tips on female behavior. It is true that a girl who is not interested or is taken will seem to flirt or whatever and then pleads "being friendly." This happens. I do not understand it. I, for one, being apprised of the "being friendly" conundrum, do my best to avoid engaging a guy one-on-one for very long if I am not interested in him at all (if I'm not sure, I'll stick around and see what happens). I'll incorporate someone else into the conversation or excuse myself. Your female friends may be able to help determine whether it's a friendly or flirty situation, but sometimes the distinction exists only in the lady's head. Yeah, sorry 'bout that (Ladies: I know, we ought to be able to talk to a guy without him thinking we're going to sleep with him, but knowing how their minds work, shouldn't we just put in the extra effort to make sure our intentions are clear?)

That said, there are some good signs: if she touches you or leans into you, basically breaks the personal space barrier, you should feel relatively confident that you're in business (or, you know, bidness). If she offers to buy you a drink or accepts a drink from you, also a good sign. She wants you a bit drunker! Sweet! If she ignores her friends or neglects to do further mingling she doesn't want to abandon you to the crowd. Also, if she wanders away but comes back to you, you're in good shape. It's safe to say that if she's interested in you, she will make herself as available as possible for you to seal the deal (get a number, make plans, what have you).

On sealing the deal (or, why put a stamp on the letter and never mail it?): If you just want to sleep with someone that night, you should not get a number and make vague allusions to getting together at a later date if she has bowed out of going home with you. That is lame. If you make your intentions relatively plain (you've been talking to her for the duration of the party, you're physically close and flirting and whatnot, it's obvious you either want to see her again or take her home.), she'll either concur ("yes, let's hang out, here's my number," OR "yes let's get out of here and make with the love") or bow out because her intentions weren't synch with yours... though I don't suppose there's a man on this earth who wouldn't adjust his intentions tout suite if the young lady just wanted to take him home.

Basically, we're aware of when the ball is in our court... it's just very important for you to actually hit it to us. You dig?

Here's your cut-and-keep recap:

1. She is not stupid.
2. Don't be drunker than she is.
3. Don't be obvious. Treat her like a person (see #1) first. Intellectual stimulation is SEXY!
4. Once you've laid the groundwork, don't get creepy. Slurring out compliments of her décolletage is not advisable, nor is it classy. A little of the touchy is good, especially if she touches you first, but don't molest.
5. Do make your intentions clear. We'll try to do the same. Unless we don't (sorry... a woman can be a mysterious creature, and I cannot speak for all of them, sadly.).
6. We will make it easy for you to seal the deal. So seal the deal, jackass.


I turn the discussion over to you, good people. Most appalling attempted pick-up ever? Best practices?

__________
*This is true based on highly unscientific research among a handful of my women friends, so ladies please feel free to chime in. Because, if much of this is just how one should approach me, well, what's the point?