Honestly - I'm Not Retarded

While it wasn't quite as bad as twenty hours of eLearning about how to greet a table, but my training shift on the bar tonight came awful close.

What part of "I have been bartending off and on over the last eleven years including at two bars that I managed and another Cara Foods establishment" suggested to our Bar Manager that I would need to spend a night learning the ropes?

I can pull on a draft handle. I make a mean Caesar. Opening bottles of wine isn't a challenge for me.

Regardless, there I was tonight, spending three hours behind the bar as Troy's bitch, doing all the work while he yakked it up and made all the money. I can't be mad - I'd have done the same damn thing too.

What makes it even better is that (a) I was hired as a full-time bartender and this is the first time I've been behind the bar and (b) they must have some confidence in my skills without this training since I open on Monday and am slotted to work New Year's Eve.

Never fails though: the new guy shows up and everyone thinks he's a retard. At least it only took two months to convince them I'm not...