There once was a taxidermy beaver that lived in Five Points. It sat perched high above the crowds at Pinch, greeting everyone who came through looking for a shot or cheap beer. It looked out on the mob with its blank stare, seemingly content in its home.
And then someone took it.
And so, a second taxidermy beaver was installed, and customers were once again greeted by a furry friend upon entering the Five Points hotspot.
But someone took that one, too.
Sarah Harris remembers both beavers. She’s been a bartender at Pinch for almost four years, and while she still hasn’t figured out how people swiped the beavers, she has learned to nail down everything else in the bar so it stays put.
It’s a little after 8 p.m. on what promises to be a busy Five Points Friday night. Harris piles can after can of Natty Light into a massive cooler behind the bar before shoveling ice over the neat rows. Every so often, she walks down the bar in her Jack Daniels tank top and checks in on her three customers, all quietly sipping beers and watching TV.
It’s quiet now, but in a matter of hours, those three customers will be long gone, and Harris will be slinging around bottles and plastic cups, trying to keep the massive college crowds at bay.
THE CALM BEFORE THE DRUNK
When the bar starts to fill up around 10:30 or 11 p.m., Harris estimates, she’ll go into typewriter mode. That’s what she calls it when she and her fellow bartenders go up and down the bar, trading debit cards and cash for beers and shots. Help one customer, then onto the next.
Until then, she’s making sure there are enough lemons and limes sliced up and figuring out where she can get some more gin.
She keeps a towel in her right back pocket and a bottle opener in her left, both of which she whips out with ease when someone spills on the bar or asks for a Coors Light.
Harris, a fourth-year hotel, restaurant and tourism management student, always recognizes people from her classes while she’s working, but they rarely recognize her. When she’s here, her light brown hair is curled and her makeup is fresh. But in class, she’s usually been up all night, either working here at Pinch or in the library, and she looks like a “ragamuffin” in class.
Jaryd Toohey, Harris’ fellow barkeep for the night, gets in just as 10 p.m. rolls around. Together, they’ll keep the masses quenched as best as they can until the bar closes at 2 a.m. and they call it a night. After they close up the bar, they might head down to Bar None or Nightcaps to drink with some other local bartenders, or they might head home. After all, they spend a lot of time in Five Points, and sleep is precious, especially when you work the night shift in a college town.
“I’m not much of a straight shooter,” Harris says, pouring shots of rum onto a tray, one of the last things to be prepped. “I wish I was a badass like that.”
BARTENDER TIPS: TIP YOUR BARTENDERS
There are some things bartenders just know: when to cut someone off, who’s been waiting longest, which customers to keep waiting. (Hint: if you’re snapping or whistling to get their attention, you’re going to be there a while.)
Last night, a man tried to pay for his drink with four different forms of ID. It wasn’t until Harris rejected his driver's license as legal tender for the second time that he got the message. His license wouldn’t cover his drink, and he was cut off.
“We kind of just let them be drunk in here,” Harris says. “It’s better than out on the street.”
But some things they can never be prepared for.
Someone once called Harris a “See You Next Tuesday” because she couldn’t find their credit card, which they found in their wallet a few minutes later. Toohey had a cup of ice water chucked at his head after he cut someone off and offered to call them a cab.
But they rarely throw people out. If you’re throwing punches or cups of water at bartenders — Toohey is still pissed about that one time — you’re gone. Otherwise, you can stay.
Bartenders can rattle off a list of nuisances they see every night: people snapping their fingers to get their attention or waving around cash but not having an order ready or accusing them of shorting on liquor.
Trust them — they know what they’re doing.
“We have a method to our madness,” Toohey says.
But the worst sin a customer can commit? Leaving the bar without leaving a tip.
“The people that get you drunk deserve something,” Harris says. She doesn’t get paid by the hour, which means bartenders rely heavily on customers’ gratuity. If you walk out without paying them, they don’t get paid.
Four or five tall, see-through vases clearly marked “TIPS” are the last things Harris puts on the bar.
THE NIGHT IS ON
Harris was right. By 10:30 p.m., the bar is getting full, and around 11 p.m. there’s a line snaking out the door and down Harden Street. In what seems like no time at all, Harris and Toohey become blurs behind the bar, while guys buying drinks for girls are yelling their orders, and girls waiting for drinks from guys are yelling the words to Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi.”
People trade places for space at the bar, now littered with plastic cups, where they wait for Toohey and Harris to pour them what they need to keep the night going. Toohey yells for two Natty Lights and a vodka tonic, and Harris is weaving in and out of everyone, like a figure skater cracking open a Miller Light. The floor is starting to get that signature college bar stick to it, while drinks slosh onto the floor en route to someone’s mouth.
“You just have to cater to their crazy,” Harris says, as she grabs two more beers from the cooler.
As soon as the tower of plastic cups starts to dwindle, a bar back is there to build it back up, just in time for Harris to demolish it with the next few rounds of vodka sodas and rum and Cokes.
Behind the bar, it’s outside voices only. People yell across to her, and Harris smiles and hopes they’re ordering another before she fills a cup. She can barely hear them as Backstreet Boys blares and the bar’s din grows louder and louder as the night goes on.
“It’s a party for us back here, too,” she says as she dances away, mouthing the words to “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back).”
If they have a few seconds — though they rarely do — Toohey and Harris have a prime view for people watching. They get a kick out of watching guys hit on girls and an even bigger one watching them get rejected. They’ve seen sick dance moves, and they’ve seen people get sick all over the bathroom.
They see their regulars and greet them with big smiles and sometimes a shot on the house. It’s free to the customer, but that doesn’t mean no one’s buying it.
“Either you’re paying for it,” Toohey says, “or we’re paying for it.”
It’s not hard to become a regular or a “favorite.” In fact, it’s pretty simple.
Be polite. Make them laugh. Don’t snap, whistle, wave cash or yell. Have your order ready. Don’t start fights. Have a good time. If something’s coming out, get it in the toilet. Get to know the people spending their Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights getting you drunk.
And never forget to leave a tip.
