And don't fuck with me on beer names. I am the beer fucking MASTER. You could almost say that beer is my middle name. Except it's actually Robert. But wouldn't Beer be a cool name?
The bartenders were cool about it, repeating my pronunciation and pulling on the tap. Stella ARRR-TWAH! I normally go for more amber colored beers, but I like Stella a bit and I saw the tap and thought what the hell. I had already had a couple and something lighter sounded good.
One of the laughing bartenders had a peculiar kind of accent, especially for Nashville. I asked where he was from and he said Scotland! This was only strange because I was in an Irish pub. I was happy though because I got to use my favorite (only?) Scottish joke which I think I heard from Mike Meyers. "What's Scottish for foreplay? Brace yourself!" He may have laughed. Although the more I think about it he may have scowled.
The other bartender did laugh at my joke. She was the reason we were actually there that night as one of my bar-hopping companions has a humongous crush on her. No matter where we start out we end up at this Irish Pub so he can get some attention from his favorite barkeep. At first I thought it was so he could smoke, since this is the only place I've been in Tennessee where you can smoke indoors. But after a few beers he told me the real reason. He even knows her schedule. Kinda creepy.
It's kind of shocking to me how the attractiveness of the wait staff can play such a vital role in the success of a restaurant/drinking establishment. It had not previously occurred to me that having a few good-looking and friendly folks working the floor can make the difference between people choosing your place to spend their after-work happy hours. I never really decide where we are going when I join the work folks for after-the-day libations. I had no idea how the decisions were being made.
It must make the hiring decisions at those places very difficult. I guess the lesson is if you have Jennifer Anniston waiting tables at the "Flingers" of which you happen to be the lunchtime manager, don't give her shit about the number of buttons on her suspenders. Just shut up and turn up the air conditioning.