1 1/2 oz Crown Royal
1/2 oz peach schnapps
3/4 cranberry juice
shake over ice/serve as shot
Serve to: the generally undecided, easy going light drinkers
I was around 23 when I was in technical school. My unemployment check had ran out and I was in desperate need of a job. Tracy was a class mate of mine and said she could get me hired at Galloway's(a "fine dinning" restaurant). I bite at the offer. Fine dining was new to me and I was extremely nervous on how I would make it. Needless to say I tired really hard and fucked up even harder. I would later learn from an old Gm of the joint that I was pretty much fired but they couldn't drop the ax due to my determation and thank god. There I was this scrony hick kid in a white shirt and tie,could barely even pronounce talaipa and I was suggesting wines to complment your dinner. Chirst the only wines I had ever tried to that point where Boone's Farm and some homemade stuff my Granny made. Then the shit hit the fan. My fiancee and I parted ways which left me in a bad finacial situation. I dropped out of school and picked up a second job at a light bulb recycling center during the day,7am to 4pm, and waited tables at Galloways during the night,430pm to 11pm or later. Theres nothing like breathing in mercury all day and then jumping into a finely pressed white shirt to become an ass kisser to people who thought they had money and class. It was really the shit that dreams are made of. Then one glourious day the Gm and the part owner approached me with an offer. The offer was this: if I could go on salary and work there night and day like I already was, then I would get a little more cash for my efforts. Hate to say it but sometimes money makes up peoples minds.Thus I became Galloway's ultimate bitch! At any given moment you could find me waiting tables,washing dishes, preping salads, delivering and retriving caterings, setting up a banquet, working a banquet, breaking down a banquet, washing the catering van, and so on and so forth. Because I lived 30 minutes away in my shit hole palace,my 1984 single wide placed ever so nicely in a trailer park near a smelly river, I pretty much lived at work. Long shifts and weird hours had me sleeping whenever and where ever I could. I slept in unclean hotel rooms, under skirted banquet tables, in the catering van, and the floor of a storage room with a bathroom that reminded me of a more friendly truck stop restroom. Then one night after pulling a long double I sat down at the bar to have a few beers before I staggered off to sleepy land. The restaurant side shut down around 10pm and only the bar reminded open. It was kinda like a local restaurant worker's speak easy, just friends in the business hanging out after work.The bar was starting to fill up and the bartender,Tracy, was behind on all her glasses and a little on service. The other bartender had taken God knows what and washed it down with some vodka just in time to go completely ape shit. He began crying in front of staff and maybe a few customers. His friend, which happened to be in the bar, decided to try and get him home. But that wasn't before he jumped out of his car and tried to fight a few other people in the parking lot. Craig the kitchen cook told me to step up and help. He said it would atleast get my tab paid. I was washing glasses, stocking beer, and emptying ash trays in no time, all the while Tracy was feeding me beer and liquor and showing me pour counts, simple drink recipes,and introuducing me to the bar regulars I had not met. The first thing she showed me was the shooter the Royal Flush. She left a very good review of my efforts in the log book in the office. I think it went a little like this." Very busy night made great money and J. was a BIG help at barbacking and bartending, yeah i know who would have guessed that". Those kind words had my GM talking to me the next day about pulling up bar shifts. And thus my life into this world began. I hope some of you enjoyed this. I looked forward to your comments and trading stories.
