Most of my baby bartending days were spent at a small town Country Club. I learned how to make all the trendy, bougie drinks but I don't want you to think it was fancy. The original owners used to get drunk and shoot nutria (think if a rat and a beaver had a giant baby, that's a nutria) that were eating the greens. The dealership then got sold to a local doctor. This man was cheap. So one day, I'm minding the bar and my own business. And I realize there is a syringe and a vial of something stacked on top of my beer. This man had bartered with one of his friends that he would give him essentially an epidural in his hand so he could golf that morning for use of his lake house I believe. This led to my most iconic line of that job. Later in the day, when he forgot where he had put medical supplies (with someone else's name on them I should add), I got to tell a grown man that his epidural was on top of the Budweiser.
I reached PEAK Louisiana yesterday. I sold a double crown and Sprite, through a drive thru, to a man in a golf cart, dressed as a Power Ranger. I'm a stereotype of a stereotype.