Well, I'm still a bartender!
If you can make it through a weekend at The Smoke, I think you can make it anywhere. Except, in my case, Taco Bell, Subway, Applebees, and other places too depressing to mention. Oh, my five-minute job at Wendy's, where I got fired because I was accidentally hired by the drive-thru guy. No severance on that one.
Anyhow, tips have been great and Kelly was really supportive while I found my "beer feet." Working a couple slow weekdays didn't really help me prepare for the weekends, though, because I think their clientele is socially programmed to go absolutely bucknuts starting on Thursday night. Men's room feces were definitely worst on Saturday, but by Sunday everyone has the runs, which are harder to pick up, so I didn't have to swab the tops of the showerhead system.
I only had one guy throw a glass at me, and Russell, the bouncer, took him out front and kicked him in the neck. Russell's kind of a loser—he wanted to be a musician but he couldn't find anyone to be in his band. It turns out that he wanted to be the singer in a band, "like Vedder," but didn't know how to sing, and thought he could only learn by singing in front of a band. That was his argument. He's built like a firetruck, though, and doesn't drink, so he always has the upper hand.
That's all I know. I have the next two days off and I think I'm going to try to spend some time with Beef.