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Monday, March 27, 2006

Show me the…

Money, the whole business of running nightclubs and bars is to make money from some very fickle people. It’s possible to get this hideously wrong despite huge efforts to avoid it and it’s possible to get it right without having a clue.

The club I do a lot of work at has sensibly got a series of different nights throughout the week tailored to different audiences. The student nights working on a pack ‘em in get ‘em drunk and send ‘em home approach where dress-code/sobriety/large groups/drunken tomfoolery and their ilk are overlooked in favour of increased volume of poverty struck punters spending shrapnel on cider and black.

On other nights we’ve grab a granny where those without their own teeth/hormones/original spouses/hips/bladders or hair get together in an attempt to dance badly to tunes they either can’t remember or have never heard. Not a good night to find folk shagging in the toilets but despite their enhanced age they do seem willing to part with their cash in enough quantity to make it worthwhile.

The big weekenders which in our town includes Thursday and Sunday don’t skimp at the bar but usually roll in later as it’s not a school night so we need a lot of these and thankfully our small city has more than enough.

The trouble with all these foolish folk is their fickleness. If see a rain-drop they’ll skip it and get a dvd in. If there’s a new bar it’ll be rammed for two weeks and then dead for a month as everyone avoids it for being too busy. If there’s a local press worthy story, of which in our little city gnomes being stolen is considered one we’re given a wide berth for weeks. It’s a competitive customer service world and there’s no way of hitting the nail on the head every night of every week.

There’s one group who are a notable exception but that’s more to do with the absence of them having anywhere else to go. Praise be for the gays! I never thought I’d be saying that.

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