Customer Service

Montresor had barely taken a step in the bar when a short bartender bumped into him, spilling most of the tray of drinks on him. He looked down at his soaked clothes before looking at the nervous bartender. She was nearly a whole foot shorter than him.

“Sorry!” She bent down and cleaned up the glasses, using a towel she had on the tray to clean the liquor that had made it to the floor. When she stood up, she took Montresor’s sleeve and pulled him along. “I may have something in the back for you to wear while your clothes dry.”

The winemaker was too stunned to remark that he would be fine. Soon, he was in the employee’s lounge. She tossed him some clothes.

“We have a washer and dryer…. Unless your clothes are dry clean only. They look like it.” She spoke quickly. “I’d hate to ask this, but I really need some help tonight and you’re already back here. Would you mind helping in the bar? Just behind the counter. Wait, do you know how to serve drinks?”

“I do know how to serve drinks, although my customer service leaves a lot to be desired,” the winemaker commented, his voice gruff.

“Sorry, sorry. But I am desperate. Please?”

Montresor sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

“Thank you! I already handed you the uniform. The washer is just back there, or you can fold your clothes and put them in the locker there,” she gestured to various places as she began to leave. “Just step out after you get changed.” The bartender closed the door behind her.

Montresor held up the uniform and grimaced. It looked uncomfortable. Changing into it confirmed it was extremely uncomfortable for him. He put his folded clothes in the locker before stepping out to join the rushed bartender.

“Excellent, it fits. Okay… I’ll work on the advanced cocktails and delivering to tables. Can you manage the bar and basic drinks? Oh, by the way, I’m Hops!”

“I believe I can manage that. I’m Montresor.”

“Good, good. Oh, don’t forget to smile.” She said in a chipper manner as she walked off with a tray full of drinks.

The pride bun was baffled by being told to smile. He rarely did so, even when he was talking to clients for his winery. He was not left long to think about that when he heard a familiar voice.

“Ey! Monty! Almost didn’t recognize you.”

His frown grew as he turned to see Aletheia. He often found this bun to be the bane of his existence. He approached where they sat at the bar.

“It’s Montresor,” he said tersely. “Are you wanting to order something?”

“Whiskey,” they commented smoothly before smirking. “You don’t look half bad in that uniform.”

Montresor glowered as he poured a glass of whiskey. He handed it to them before moving to take other orders. He noticed how the bane of his existence stayed at the bar. The hellfire bun would make more comments any time he was near enough to hear.

Hops seemed to almost bounce back and forth from the bar and the floor, making and delivering drinks, though there were no more incidents of spilling any, surprisingly. She reminded the dour man to smile every time she was behind the bar, which only made Aletheia laugh.

The night slowly wound down, drunk patrons leaving. After a bit longer, Montresor was left with Hops and, to his disconcertion, Aletheia. He silently gave the punk bun credit for only nursing on drinks through the night and not getting drunk.

Hops gathered glasses that patrons had left on tables, putting them in the bar sink. She wiped tables down, put chairs up, and even got the pale bun to stand up and finish their drink. Montresor helped by washing the dishes and wiping the bar down. It had been a while since he worked behind a bar, and he did not appreciate the experience now, but he would not leave the whole mess to Hops. As they finished cleaning up, Montresor pushed a protesting Aletheia out the door.

“Stay right here or go home, but the bar is closed now,” he said.

“You’d make a better bouncer than a barkeep,” the caped bun huffed as she leaned against the building.

The winemaker made no comment as he closed the door and walked back to the employee’s lounge. Hops was there too. They chatted as he changed back into his clothes.

“Sorry about all of that, I was in a bit of a panic.”

“No worries, but if you pull me to help you again, do not expect me to smile,” he replied, buttoning his shirt. “Even those that I regularly do business with, and those that call me friend, do not see me smile. You can ask the half-dressed bun outside.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” Hops gave a bright smile as Montresor left. She had a feeling she would see him in the bar again.