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…and Beauty Shop.

I have recently gotten a job bartending at a local dive bar/juke joint. For the purpose of this blog we’ll call it ‘The Joint”. It’s a tiny whole-in-the-wall where the music is jumpin’ and everyone’s there to have a good time. The majority of the clientele is black. I’m not gonna be politically correct and say Africa-American. Some of them are Haitian, some Jamaican, some African-American. Now when I say majority, I mean 99.9%. In three days of employment, I have seen 2 white people. Besides the bartenders. This is a neighborhood joint where everyone knows everyone and i’m starting to learn all their names. Some people always sit at the same barstool or table and a simple hand gesture lets you know which of their 2 regular drinks they want. Yes, it’s just like Cheers. Except Norm is now Spoon, and Cliff is Reggie. I guess i’m Carla. I’m short. I’ve only been there 3 days, and already customers are calling me by my name and asking me about my day. I get street cred because I lived in Brooklyn.

I’m already at a place where I feel comfortable enough to be sassy with the regulars. Tonight, I was bouncin’ by the bar mouthing the words to some old school R&B song from the juke, possibly New Edition, maybe even Keith Sweat (yes, I know who Keith Sweat is), and Ellis calls out from across the bar “you don’t know SHIT about this music!” to which I yelled back “man, you don’t know SHIT about ME!”.

I worked 6 1/2 hours tonight and made (in tips) enough to fill up my gas tank and maybe have a little extra for some milk and cookies.

speaking of milk and cookies… i’m ready to unwind with some chocolate chunk and 2%. Hells, yeah.

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