My First Night Working At A Bar


I know I’ve been away for awhile now, and you’re probably all expecting that new ‘Battle of Carthage’ video to be done soon. Well, rest assured, it’s actually nearing completion. But in the meantime, I’d like to share with you a story from my own personal past that I just remembered the other day randomly and thought it was too funny to keep it a secret. So here it goes!

Back when I was in my senior year of college. I started working at a bar for the first time ever! It was quite an exciting experience and one that I learned a lot from. In fact, there were a lot of things that I NEVER would’ve expected to learn about. Such as the intricacies of how a bar functions and some more embarrassing things about our patrons.

This story is one of those about the customer(s).

How it always begins

Specifically, it’s in regards to female customers; college-aged, preppy, suburban, well-off, white-girl wasted, partying, living life on the edge type customers that we had a lot of.

This particular offset of our customer base had a tendency to make bathrooms…MESSY. I mean really, REALLY messy!


Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter

Now I had no idea that this actually happened before I was the guy who had to clean up after them. Because when I first started at my bar I was just a door guy. In fact, on my first night, I was working the door position that always handles the bathrooms. Going into it, I knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight at the end of the night, but what I didn’t know was that the chicks’ bathroom would be 1000x worse than the dudes’.

I mean seriously, come on! You usually expect the guys to be the ones who get totally hammered and make an obnoxious mess of the place. At least that’s the way all my friends were. Getting blacked-out drunk and then puking in the bathrooms/floors then passing out in a pile of it and finally peeing their pants while unconscious. Sorry for the mental images there, but I had to make a point. Anyway, turns out I was wrong.

Sure, the guys’ bathroom was no Garden of Eden. But other than some broken glass/spilled beer and bits and pieces of toilet paper on the floor there wasn’t anything else to clean up. It was a rather easy duty. So after I got done with that, I gladly walk on over to the girls’ bathroom thinking “…ha! This is gonna be so easy, piece of cake!”


The second I opened the door, I swear it felt like I had walked through a dimensional warp of some kind to an alternate reality where a full-blown battle had broken out that was fought between warring clans of sorority sisters and/or other college girl stereotypes. I mean the place was DESTROYED!


The first stall had the lights broken out.

The mirrors had makeup (I think) rubbed on it in ways that MUST have been on purpose.

Not only was there toilet paper, paper towels, and all other sorts of toiletries all over the floor, but it was IMMEDIATELY OBVIOUS that more than one person had deliberately thrown all this trash all over the place. Like entire rolls, including the backup ones that weren’t even being used, were disheveled and then rolled around on the floor.

Plus, the soap dispensers had half their contents dripping on the sinks/floor in such way as to make you think that somebody clearly just kept pushing the damn thing for the hell of it.

And there was even broken glass from empty Vodka bottles among other glass as well. But those bottles are damn thick!!! I mean you’d have to break one on purpose, it’s not like if it fell over from the counter that it’d shatter like that. NO! This was an act of intentional sabotage.

So after I managed to get myself together, much like a rookie recruit shell-shocked from landing on Omaha beach in Normandy, I began the long process of making this place squeaky clean. This was my job after all.

And so I continued on. Sweeping first, then mopping, then mirrors and porcelain. And finally to the last task.

The dreaded tampon boxes!!!!!!!!!



You thought everything was bad before? HA! Wait until you get a load of this. See our establishment, like many other fine places of entertainment, understands that the ‘fairer’ gender has to deal with some physical responsibilities that others don’t have to worry about. In light of that little detail, our owners provided these little metal containers/boxes nailed conveniently within easy reach onto the stall walls for the ladies to dispose of the bio-hazard otherwise known as USED TAMPONS!!! The way it works is…they just put it into this box that has a brown paper bag in it, and then little old me comes in at the end of the end, picks up the damn thing, and tosses it out into the garbage can as quickly as possible before the Zombie Virus spreads to me. Simple right?

So simple that you’d think nothing could go wrong, right?



On this night, of my very first night, I had the displeasure of having to pick one up by itself…WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!

Now how the hell did this happen you ask?

Simple, it was at the end of a long shift that required more energy than I had initially realized. And after dealing with the aftermath of the Battle of White-Girl-Wastedlingrad I simply didn’t have the mental capacity to recognize what I saw in that dark, danky little box. I figured it was nothing and quite frankly, at that point, I just wanted to get the hell out of there and go back home and sleep already. So, go figure, I reach in, grab it with my hand completely, then take it out, only to realize that it was wet and leaking some kind of reddish fluid into my palm.

And that’s when the sheer GRAVITY of the situation hit me. I had just picked up this dripping wet, used tampoon with my bare hands and some random girls’…OK you know what I’m not going to get into the details anymore.

It’s too traumatic, and I don’t want to have a flashback to that moment.

Plus, you get the idea now.

Anyway, after that I quietly finished the rest of my duties in solemn silence, then checked out and clocked out with my manager and left to go home,…but not to sleep.

This must’ve been what some poor Medieval peasant felt like when he saw a boil on himself during the height of the Black Death. Sheer Terror!

OK so hopefully you guys enjoyed reading that as much as I (sort of) liked recounting that. As I said earlier, I thought this story was just too good to be kept secret, especially considering that it was my first night on the job. I always wondered if other bar industry employees had similar experiences on their first shifts…

Anyway, if you enjoyed what you read then please comment, like, subscribe, follow, and share with all your friends and family.

Until next time!






One thought on “My First Night Working At A Bar

  1. Pingback: 6 Things Nobody Tells You About Working at a Bar | Digital History

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