Confessions of a barmaid. Part 1

13th June 2013 Sophie Tomblin

Now, from the title you can already tell, yes I am a barmaid. I work part time in a small lounge bar just to be able to keep on top of my expensive habit of shoes and Nandos.

I’m not going to make this a rant about my job, because in actual fact I love it. If you have friends or family who work in the bar and club environment, then there is no doubt you have heard some dreadful stories about some unlucky punters who have intoxicated themselves with enough alcohol to get a beach whale drunk.

During my, lets say, interesting time at my bar job, I have met some characters who everyone in the area knows, and will continue to talk about, just because of their striking personality on the dance floors of all the clubs.

First off, we have an elderly man, whom everyone adores but isn’t actually allowed in any clubs any more because his dance-offs with the younger generation never end well. Now, he walks the streets and dances outside the clubs when he hears a beat fueled song. We all call him ‘Dancing Joe’. Now Joe doesn’t talk, he mutters. Most of the time it’s for water and when his hours of the day are up, he totters home. The funny thing is, Joe will be up and back out in town just six hours after he gives up every night. I kid you not, Joe doesn’t give up. For a 62-year-old man, he has the hips of a 21 aged man, and whenever ‘Teach Me How To Dougie‘ blasts through the speakers, you can guarantee Joe will be there in full force, swinging his arms and getting down with his adoring fans. This memorable man has taught me that no matter age you are, you are never to old to carry on having a good time.


Secondly, we have Moe. He is again, a little man, wearing nothing but a tank vest and jeans, who ponders around the club scene looking for a place to literally, just dance. Always ordering ‘Coke and Ice,’ Moe loves heading out and standing next to the speaker while winding down low to the reggae songs the DJ’s put on just for him. It’s never a boring conversation with Joe either. I always leave work with some kind of new life lesson. The recent one being, ‘never have curry before a night out.’ The story that came after this will forever scar me.

Woo girls. Every one who works in a bar will know who these are. Or if you have every watched, ‘How I met your mother’. Yes, Woo girls exist. A particular group made up of five girls, all blonde and very good dress sense, wander in the place I work every Friday, no fail, order Jagerbombs, and scream like banshees, head to the dance floor, grind on one another and again scream like banshees. A night out is so much excitement for them, but they really don’t care what others think or say, they have a great time and express this by all the air in their lungs. Just last week, one of the troop members, slipped and fell down a step and instead of all racing to the rescue, they made it out to be the best moment of the life, woo’d immensely and laughed.

In the past ten months, I have met and seen so many people in my town, and if I could write a book about the mischief and different individuals and groups for your entertainment I would.

There isn’t a doubt we all end up going home with stories to tell our other friends. Some are bad because someone has had the one too many sambucas and end up spending the night with their head in the toilet or asleep on a bench outside a kebab shop (yes, I have experienced such a moment, cringe!), but with some of the people I meet, who come out just for that good time will always go home with something good to say about their night. And I know drinking them two extra tequila’s seem like a good idea, but I think we should all stop and think about the night we want to remember and not forget just to get reminded by embarrassing stories.

Tweet me about the characters you see on your adventures when you head for a night out. @sophieRtomblin.

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Sophie Tomblin

Journalism Graduate, with a passion to have my own successful column one day! I'm a pro at not attending my paid for gym and a Nandos enthusiast.

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