You don't wanna

do it like that.
The manager takes a short holiday, his first in about 18 months. His assistant steps up to run the club she knows almost as well as her boss does. Just to keep the ship afloat another manager from in the area is drafted in for the weekend to add extra bodies to the management on the busier nights.
He's young, doesn't know the club, its punters or its staff.
He spots one of the doorlads, standing by one of the bars "flirting" with the pretty barmaid. He's heading that way and decides to interject that "both of them could do with doing some work."
Not ideal, but this he retells to me at the front door almost as if I should fly in there, slap some sense into my colleague and bring him into line.
He clearly wants to establish the pecking order, he may be tiny, inexperienced and out of his depth but he's management and that places him well above doorstaff.
He doesn't know my colleague and more to get out of his path than head in 'bollocks-on-forehead' to speak to my colleague I head up the stairs and track down my 'lazy' doorman.
He explains he's mildly miffed at the new shiny pillock but isn't going to get out of line. I ask what he was nattering about. All but one of us there know she's not the sort to take an interest in balding oversized doormen.
He explains that he thought this gent had been kicked out last week and as she was the nearest staff that night wondered if it was him or not. Fair conversation to have, not worth a bollocking or even a tut-tut. I looked over and I thought it looked like the same gent too.
I wandered over, asked him if it was, he said no, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Turned out it wasn't as his double turned up later on, pickled and not very polite.
As my colleague said, the temporary new manager may be a shiny pillock but it isn't worth getting out of line. Sanity and maturity will return.
I took the easy route by wandering in, I took the smart route by getting both sides. I don't mind being seen as something I'm not by those for whom I do not care. I'm man enough to know at least that much.

Friends and Mirrors

There seem to be two things missing in the lives of ladies in this town.
It's not opportunity to better themselves, two universities and a number or colleges of higher and further education.
It's not the retail experiences, we've streets of high street brands, shopping centres in and out of town.
It's not work opportunities, a string of national and multinational firms call this city home and some smaller government offices too giving the options of filling purses in many legitimate means.
We've got hostelries of every kind to entertain all kinds. There are opportunities for company of varied sorts, men, women and things uncertain.
What two goods the ladies of this town lack are friends and mirrors.
Mirrors would help avoid the dirty foundation line around the chin, the hair style that stops at the fringe. They would stop the clashing of colours and patterns, the short and lumpy tops, short and skirts that show bits best left hidden.
Friends would or should comment on all of the potential disasters above in such a way as to prevent a recurrence without diminishing the confidence of their perpetrator.
All it would take is friends and mirrors, a lot better than fake tan, fake hair and no concept of just how stupid they look.

Legging it

When a alarm calls goes out over the radio, we all come running, you leave one at the front door, maybe one on the cash desk but the rest of you get there as fast as you can. Sometimes you end up legging it in from one situation that might be kicking off to one that is only to be running back the first one one it has.
Shit happens, you live with it. All through the shift, from open to close you could get an alarm call. You get there as fast as you can, you do as much as you can and then you get back to doing whatever you were doing before that.
Some nights you find you're running up two flights of stairs, dodging past the slowly ascending and descending groups to get there at full tilt. You'll have to grapple sweaty, chemically altered, smelly chavs escort them in various states of agreement to the street only to turn back for a gently tour of the premises to be half a step into the building when the next call goes out. Nowt you can do but leg it.
End of the shift and I'm wondering if I really need to wear these comfy, heavy boots, the tie and long sleeve shirt and the kilo of radio every night.
Some shifts I'd prefer track shoes and a quick dry vest, not professional but far better suited to running around than the cheap black suit and boots.

Falling Fast

Trade is down. There are an awful lot less bodies through the doors. There are an awful lot less punter hours in a venue. There are a lot less pounds going over the bar. There is a lot less trouble going off inside. There are a lot less doorstaff being given hours. There are a lot less barstaff running around a lot less serving a lot less drinks to a much emptier bar.
From my end it's getting tedious. From a wider perspective are the pubs and clubs about to lose a key generation?
I worry that if the current set of young ones aged 17 to 19 go out drinking in quiet bars and clubs, with only the dirty fixed income benefits recipients for company only a certain style of person will carry this on into their earning years. I worry that the drink at home and share a taxi in gaggles of girls or boys get locked into that pattern and don't make the transition to spending when the time changes.
I know spending money in clubs and bars is unnecessary, its luxury spend and when jobs are short, money is tight it can be cut back. If they've already gotten into the habit of blowing fun money on big nights out then if the venues are still there when the fun money comes back so will they.
If they haven't then teasing them in after they've established a pattern will be tough. Thankfully
I only deal with the punters trying to come in, or going out. Getting them to come and play isn't my problem.