I was always certain that I would be a fantastic bartender. I'm a giant flirt, I've got a great memory, I'm quick on my feet, and one of my biggest flaws is that I juggle too many things at once - perfect for keeping track of a dozen tables. Up until now, I had somehow avoided the service industry in favor of jobs that had me working alongside sports, entertainment, marketing, or doing a piss-poor job painting neighbor's garages. After the transition from Comcast to Sky didn't pan out, I decided to ditch the corporate world for a bit and apply at a local pub called Jeremiah's Taproom. I, as mentioned, had zero hospitality experience so I tailored my CV to highlight my customer service instead and they hired me on the spot. (And they have now given me control of their social media! Follow us (me) on Instagram or Facebook.)
The hiring manager asked me if I could "pull a pint", which I THOUGHT I could, but Americans pour beer much differently. The Uptown VFW in Minneapolis will give you a Hamm's on tap (I miss you so much) that is lager spilling over the top of the glass, but Scots expect a thumb's width of head on their beers or they will straight up send it back. You will often see bargoers slamming their beers on the bar to create more bubbles. It's terrifying. One of the popular old man beers is Belhaven Best, a Scottish ale, that has a segmented pouring process like a Guinness where you have to let it sit for a bit to get the right head. The first time I poured one, the man looked at me, sadly shook his head and said, "Let's try that one again, Minnesota." You can't get that great sense of Scottish shame sitting in an office.
Being an American working in a Scottish pub is a great conversation starter and instantly makes me something of a novelty. Instantly it's a chorus of "What brought you here? How are you finding it? How did you get so muscular? What's Bruce Springsteen like in person?"
Although it's getting harder and harder for people to nail my accent, as I develop a bit of a lilt in my voice when I work at the bar and some of my vernacular has changed so "apartment" becomes "flat", "drunk" becomes "steamin", and "I don't want to" becomes "cannae be arsed" (also known as CBA). You can't really drive home my fluctuating accent in a blog post, so you'll have to belly up to the bar at Jeremiah's to meet British bartender Chris because I CBA to describe it in words.
The biggest culture shock has to be the tipping culture. Katie and I have been all over the world and most of Europe, especially Western Europe, so we knew tipping wasn't really a big thing here, but I hadn't been on the *receiving* side of it yet. One of my American bartending friends said she would walk away with $100+ in tips on a good Saturday night. My first Saturday night shift got me £3.50. Ooooooof. A 10% tip is huge over here, and most often people just leave behind a few quid. Occasionally you'll get someone who wants to "toss their dross," aka worthless coins, so you'll get a handful of pence to throw into the tip jar. That's my favorite. One, it's so fun to say. Toss your dross. And two, you could get a ton of BS coins that add upto 75p or you might score a couple pounders in there and get something of substance. MYSTERY TIP.
In Scotland most places don't have a place where you get prompted to add a tip, so if the bill is 50 pounds, you have to *ASK* the server to change it to 55. A lot of Americans don't know that, so surprisingly American tourists are often terrible tippers - - >DO BETTER, USA. It's fun to reminisce about home with these accidentally stingy Yanks, but I found pure joy in chatting with locals and a lot of those conversations led to several real connections.
Real quick - I lived in California by myself when I was 20 years old, and it was a no-man's land for me. As in I had no man friends. Or lady friends for that matter. It didn't help that I was under the drinking age, and I didn't have a handsome older brother to give me his ID like my younger siblings, so that made coworker connections more difficult. You couldn't get beers after work, and "Wanna get a Jamba Juice?" just didn't hit the same. I remember having day dreams at the book store that went something like this:
Me approaching some guy: "Hey do you wanna get together and watch sports platonically?"
Guy: "Oh hell yeah. Do you like Jamba Juice?"
Again, no man's-land. But Scotland is completely different. Maybe it's 18 months of people being cooped up with no social interaction, but so many people at the bar have been eager to welcome us into their social circles. In about a two month time period I was given seven different phone numbers by patrons - clearly I'm sending out lonely vibes.
Here's a brief rundown on those 7 numbers.
#1 - Drunk lass on an awful first date. She waited until her (incredibly lame) date went to the bathroom and then came up to the bar to see if she could hang with Katie and I instead.
#2 - American who goes to Katie's university
#3 - Someone whose grandparents live in Uptown Minneapolis (what?!)
#4/5 - People interested in dog sitting Luna if we ever left town (as if she doesn't hire out/interview her own help)
#6 - Scottish Couple looking to do a double date with Katie/me after getting served by me at Jeremiah's for 4+ hours
#7 - Sober Canadian at a table full of drunks who gave me her number within five minutes when I was kind to her friends
We went with 6 & 7 (partly because they left monstrous tips so you know they're good people), and we have become fast friends with both of them - with one inviting us to multiple parties, and now the other one's mom is messaging us about an upcoming birthday/high tea party! (Side note: What do I wear to a tea party? This?)
All of this to say - if you're visiting Scotland soon, the short answer is that tipping is not at all expected but you'll make a huge impact if you do leave behind a few pounds.
So make someone's day and toss that dross.
Cheers,
Chris
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