I was in the Little Ladies Club in fourth grade with a fellow petite gal, Danielle. We’ve grown in years, though not in inches, and she now manages an Irish restaurant in Clearwater. O’Keefe’s puts on a big St. Patrick’s Day festival and Danielle pleaded for extra helpers on Facebook. Because I heard the money was good, I signed up and recruited Kasey and Brittany.
We said we’d work from 11am-midnight collecting money for the beer truck outside before we knew the forecast for Monday was 90% chance of rain all day long. We were soaking wet, since the two tents we were set up under had a six inch gap between them. Leo appeared as we were beginning to get frustrated and hugged us, kissed each of us on the cheek, and introduced himself. “I will pour your beers,” he said in a Brazilian accent. Our other pourer was slimmer than Joey Gladstone but a lot like him in other ways. Our pourers were so likeable we didn’t mind splitting the tips with them at midnight. We took orders for 32 oz. Guinness (which would feel like eating two oversized baguettes), took the money, and relayed our orders to the pourers. Leo would always be caught dancing along to the song. And Erik (Joey Gladstone) always leaned in to listen extra carefully.
While the rain was pouring down, Kasey and I said, “It’d be nice if we at least made $100.” Then the crowd came pouring in and we were running around like crazy. I said, “Let’s change our goal! I’d like to make enough to cover my car payment. $194.” We might’ve high fived at this point and scurried about among the green.
A can of Coors Light was $4. Later into the night, the music got louder and louder and taking orders became a real audible puzzle.
“A Coors Light,” said a baseball capped man around the age of 30. I retrieved the Coors and said, “$4.” I held up four fingers to get my point across and over “Ice Ice Baby” booming.
He held up three fingers.
I smiled and held my hand up again to say “$4. No specials, man.”
He matched my smile and put up three fingers as if in bold typeface.
This was repeated a couple times. I started to get annoyed, thinking about the customers lining up behind him. Then he kindly yelled, “I want THREE Coors Lights! I’m not arguing about the price!”
I laughed and felt real silly. He gave me $12 for the beer and put $5 in the tip jar. “I like you. You’re funny,” he said.
Yeah, I was trying to be funny.