No Fly Zone

Getting hired at the airport couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. It was mid spring semester of my Junior year of college and I was already going broke. In December I walked out on my tech job at the plasma center after getting yelled at for changing gloves between donors again. Gross right? It’s hard to believe the subject would even be discussed as an issue rather than common sense. Maybe it's because I’ve watch that blood born pathogens training video more times than I should have. Since I had a little money saved and knew my financial aid refund check would be on the way soon it was only right that I enjoy the holidays after a long fall semester.

In true ADHD fashion, I completely forgot to update and accept my award letter before heading home only to find out my refund had been delayed when I returned. By this time all the nuts I had stored away for winter were just empty shells. Never fear for plan B always came in clutch. I decided to go back to a true profession that always delivers. A real American Career that has withstood any recession that we’ve ever seen. Bartending will forever be the side job that saves my ass. With March around the corner in the music capitol of the world, a bartending job wouldn’t be hard to land. I interviewed for a server position but was told I could pick up bartender shifts when available. The schedule was perfect, the pay was amazing and having union benefits were ever college students dream.

The first couple of days were a little rough. It wasn’t the sexy cocktailing you see in the first-class lounges in movies. This was the crying baby, man with no shoes, and complaining Karen waiting for their connecting flights. It never seemed to amaze me how someone would stand in line for 15 mins, order a well-done burger and then complain that they’re about to miss their flight because they are supposed to board in 5 minutes. Day in and day out I watched people from all walks of life come in and out of the terminals. If you were lucky, you’d spot a familiar face getting off one of the returning flights looking like a completely different person from either to much partying or exhaustion from a work trip.

After receiving my first couple of paychecks it was quite evident that this place was a cash cow and highly profitable if I played my cards right. The cool thing about my position is that everyday was different. Not working the same cocktail lounge every day was quite refreshing. The change of scenery made it interesting. One afternoon as I was walking towards the end of the airport, I locked eyes with a chef heading out after his shift. He was handsome. I’ve always had a thing for tall men with ebony black hair, matching eyebrows and wore glasses. But what made him 10 times more attractive was the tiny mole on his right cheek that almost looked like a beauty mark. In my early 20’s I developed a routine of trying to find a spring fling in hopes it would turn into a budding summer romance. It’s the best time of the year! Until you’re past the mid stage of your 20's and still doing the self-sabotaging shit on a loop every year. Since I had returned to college, I swore that I would not let anyone distract me from the things I need to get done. Every year I would fall for someone I met at work that I can’t have or either get drunk at work or don’t make it to work because I partied the night before.

It didn’t take long before the security knew who I was, girls with kids were befriending me to pick up their bar shifts and managers were starting to take notice that I wasn’t just there to complain about having to wear an apron after 10 years of bartending experience. The truth was that management only hired bartenders. Regardless of the situation there was always someone who could jump in at any time. Hoping to sleep in a little late one morning, I received a call from one of the managers asking if I could cover the bar at the end of the terminal. Jackpot!

It was without a doubt my favorite spot at the airport. It had a pub feel, awesome food, wasn’t to busy and of course the cutie chef I had been eyeing was stationed there. When I showed up Samuel had already iced down my wells, cut my garnished and made sure I had an enough change. Then asked me what I wanted for breakfast. I couldn’t figure out if he was just being nice or flirting but I was totally here for it. Surprisingly I was asked to cover the rest of the week. I was so excited to be bartending for a week. The pay alone from that one week was more than enough to cover a month of rent. Weekly pay was one of the huge perks of being an airport employee. Throughout the week Samuel and I got to know each other and realized we had a lot in common. Aside from the fact that he was probably way to young for me he was someone I wouldn’t discredit right away.

One morning I showed up just a tad bit late and walked into a situation that wasn’t uncommon in the service industry. Late produce delivery or food delivery of any kind was always a cause for concern. It was as if by some sort of universal karmic magic that as soon as you 86 something from your POS the next customer to take a seat wants to order that exact thing. As I set down my things and began to log in, Samuel went down the list of things we were out of. “We’re out of onions, chicken patties, wings and have enough tomato left for just a couple of burgers.” I rolled my eyes letting out a chuckle while responding, “20 bucks says the first jerk to sit at my bar is going to ask for a burger with grilled onions and onion rings.”

Just as I was settling into my shift and about to enjoy some coffee accompanied by the delicious breakfast sandwich that Samuel had just personally delivered, an older gentleman sat at my bar and asked the most obnoxious question known to man. “Anybody working around here!” Standing right in front of him I smiled politely and handed him a menu and began to pour him a glass of ice water. “I’m not much of a breakfast person so I’m going to go with a quarter pounder with grilled onions and onion rings.” Trying my best not to laugh out loud, I began to explain to him the produce shortage that we were currently experiencing. He gave me this look of complete disbelief and then asked if he could just go ahead and have the frozen onion rings from a bag instead. I explained one more time that any frozen items within the same order were on hold as well. 10 minutes into his speech on how he just couldn’t believe that we were out of onions, one of our chefs offered to go check another commissary for the goods. As I was putting in his order he asked if I could add pesto to his burger as well. The pesto was mostly used for another grilled cheese chicken sandwich that was quite popular on the menu.

I suppose I was making a face without realizing it because he then asked me If he was being that difficult. “No sir not at all, I was just typing in the message to the kitchen on the ticket.” Maybe 10 minutes after the order was placed. Bill began to engage in conversation with me. He was a nice guy. He was flying back home after a month-long business trip in Europe. He went from telling me about their new developments to showing me pictures of his wife and grandkids. Shortly after his burger was placed in front of him. Enjoy! I asked if he was needed anything else and then excused myself to go grab some orders in the window. Before I could make it back to the bar, Samuel stopped me and whispered, “Whatever you wrote about that guy is up on the screen. He just asked to speak to a manager.” I was completely mortified. Assuming like most POS systems when you send a note to the kitchen, it only gets seen by the kitchen. Most notes usually don’t show up underneath the order when you’re about to print the ticket. When I got back behind the bar, I felt horrible. Bill looked incredibly sad and embarrassed that not only could he see my nasty note, so could the rest of the bar. “Was I really being a jerk?” he asked in a low voice. “No sir, I’m the jerk. This morning when I was told that we were out of onions I joked my first customer would be some jerk who orders grilled onions and onion rings. Ironically you so happened to be my first customer and order that exact thing.” He thought it was a little funny, but then asked for his bill so he could pay out. I couldn’t stop apologizing. To add insult to injury he tipped me 20%.

My coworker managed to talk him out of wanting to speak to a manager, but I still couldn’t get the disappointing look he had on his face as he walked away from his seat out of my mind. Getting closer towards the end of my shift, things were starting to feel a little better. Right as I was about to start cleaning up a member of management approached me and asked me to grab my things. It turns out that Bill went home and told his wife what had happened. She was infuriated and made a phone call to the president of the airline to complain. I was asked to leave everything as is and was escorted by security out the front door. I wasn’t allowed to add in my tips or turn in my box. I was also stripped of my badge and parking pass. I was humiliated. My note to Samuel got a quick laugh but it was not worth losing my job over. I was a laughingstock amongst my coworkers and was not allowed to reapply for the company in the future. Losing my job when I did lead to a stressful summer. Instead of using my free flights to escape the weekend I was back to working weekends at another stupid corporate bar and grill make $2.13 and hour and less than 10% on $100.00 tabs. I think the worse part of it all is that I couldn’t even explain why I got fired without people looking at me like I was a total monster for doing such a thing to a sweet old man just trying to get home to his family. I’m sure Bill will tell this story again and his wife will rejoice on how she got the little witch fired. As for me lesson learned. Two lessons I will never forget, be nice to everyone you meet because you never know who you’re talking to, as well as don’t dip your pen in company ink. Those BICS don’t sign your paychecks.