Let's begin by making this clear: I am a bartender. I am a good bartender. I am a good, hardworking bartender that is appalled by the conduct of those that frequent my bar. And I am not alone. Though it may be mildly amusing at times to watch the drunken antics of a solid mass of 500 college students--it is not amusing in the slightest when they are so drunk (or defiantly arrogant) that they "forget" to tip, and bartenders everywhere deal with this festering pustule of indecency on a nightly basis.

What's the big deal, you ask? I popped the caps off of a couple beer bottles. That was hard. I put some liquor in a shaker with ice, shook it up, and poured it into a shot glass. Woo hoo. You're a poor college student--all you want to do is drink a few beers and meet some friends. Why should you give me money? I'm doing my job, so what? You already had to tip once today, at dinner. Why am I glaring at you menacingly as you, without fail, pick up every single speck of change, as you eye the dollar bill that your neighbor left me, considering the option of swiping that as well?

Let me tell you why.  Bartenders make a mean drink, sure. Yes, it's a tough skill to learn and a great one to have. Again, this is just job specialization--no big news here. Why should you tip me for doing my job? Because I get paid in tips! You, the customer--you are the sole source of my income. I work for you. Would you neglect to pay an employee? Unfortunately, most of you would, if you could get away with it--as is clearly evidenced by your nightly negligent behavior. Maybe I'm not being clear enough.

Yes, I make drinks. That's what you see when you come to the bar at midnight, and that's the fun part. That comprises two and a half hours of my nine hour shift. Go to a bar around 8 p.m. Have a beer and look around. What are the bartenders doing? They are most likely stocking for the night. Carrying dozens of cases of beer up and down stairs. Putting the bottles in the coolers. Making trips to the dumpster. Stocking liquor and lining trash cans.  Putting out ashtrays and cocktail napkins (with which someone will inevitably wipe their greasy, sweating face and then leave on the bar that my colleagues and myself just finished cleaning). Stocking the bathrooms.

Then the crowd comes, drinks are served, spilled, and glasses are broken. Everyone has an excellent time, and stumbles outside happily just before three in the morning. That's when the work really starts. There are beer bottles everywhere--full, half-empty, shattered on the floor, hidden in dark corners, shoved into the toilet, propped up against the urinal, filled with urine, and smashed in the sink. One would think that we hadn't provided the public with numerous large trashcans in which to dispose of their trash.  One would think that quite a few mothers neglected to mention to their toddlers in the process of potty training that toilet paper is the only thing that one places in the toilet.

Let's talk about toilets--toilets full of layered surprises. I will now declare with full and utter honesty that I have (with a trash bag tied up over my arm) pulled out of a toilet everything that you could possibly expect to find in a toilet, and some things that you wouldn't expect to find. These things include, but are certainly not limited to: shit, puke, tampons, wallets, wads and wads of toilet paper, broken glass, cigarette butts, cigars, flasks, shoes, underwear, condoms (new and used), lipstick, cell phones, and beer bottles. These things are usually submerged together in an interesting conglomeration.

I could go on describing the trials and tribulations of bartending. But instead I will leave you on that note--so that you can visualize this stomach-rending mess that you, the people, have created for your bartender to deal with.