A Bartender’s Best Night Ever [FICTOID]

Despite the forecast, it didn’t rain.

The daytime janitorial staff did a top notch job cleaning up from the night before.

Management already received and set up the deliveries.

The waitstaff all showed up on time; nobody needed to leave early.

Customers began drifting in by twos and threes, paced out far enough to fill the bar to near capacity within an hour of opening but not so fast as to overwhelm the bartender with orders.

Nobody had the nerve to snap their fingers or whistle for a drink.

Everybody knew what they wanted, and the one customer with questions asked expert intelligent ones about the difference in two labels of beer.

The customers played only jazz / easy listening / soft rock records on the jukebox, which suited the bar’s acoustics perfectly.

The guys all kept their hands off the curves.

The hookers worked a convention near the airport on the other side of town.

No drinks were spilled.

Nobody threw up.

Nobody helped themselves from the fruit tray or reached around behind the bar.

The people who were carded appreciated the waitstaff thought they looked too young to drink.

When one customer -- and only one that night -- had a little too much to drink, she accepted being cut off with good grace.

Everybody who needed a cab -- including a few who really didn’t -- took one home.

A loud and grumpy argument was quickly settled with a game of darts, and both parties shook hands afterwards and resumed drinking.

When last call was announced, everybody got their last orders in quickly, and no complicated fancy drinks.

When closing time was called, everybody finished their drinks and went home.

They needed to empty the tip jar three times that night.

And when the ruthless mugger attempted to jump him on his way home, the undercover cops sounded the alarm and six squad cars showed up to arrest him before he could get close to the bartender.

© Buzz Dixon