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| Yeah but does he do Jagerbombs? |
With New Years Eve approaching I once again have nothing planned. This time last year it was a very different story though, the 31st December will mark the one year anniversary of my debut as a barman. I had got the job through a friend at work; it was one of those things which you agree to because you’re relatively sure it won’t actually happen. She even seemed unperturbed by the fact that not only had my housemate and I never worked behind a bar in our lives but I was almost certainly the clumsiest man in Britain. High pressure drinks pouring was never going to be my forte.
Eventually the night arrived; it had only previously been discussed in hushed, frantic whispers. We walked to the nightclub with fixed expressions of pained fear, jealous of every New Year’s reveller we came across, angry that they were drunk and free whereas we were trapped. Like the brave men approaching the beach, there was no going back now, this was our Normandy. Ok, I might have gone a bit overboard with the hyperbole; basically we were a bit nervous.
It was sink or swim and for six hours I battled against a never ending tide of thirsty, raucous Yorkshire punters. Eventually it began to die down and by 2 A.M I was even starting to enjoy it, 'maybe I was born to be a barman' I imagined as I did that thing where barman pour the vodka from a height just because that's what barman do, not because it actually does anything. 'Maybe 'I Gotta Feeling' is the best song I've ever heard', I thought as I heard it for the fourth time that night. But by 3 A.M I was a weary, vodka soaked mess, I had survived, we knew if we could get through that night then we could do any other and sure enough I ended up working at Halo for six months until my housemate and I were ‘let go’ for being a little generous with the apple sourz. By that time the job had served its purpose, we were three weeks from going to America and the money earnt from Halo was paying for a sizeable proportion of it.
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