FEATURE INTERVIEW: The Bartender
Welcome to THE OUCH CLUB: A Bootwood Speakeasy of True Bar Injuries
After taking a little break from bartending, I’ve picked up a few shifts lately. My body is not the same as it was when I was in my twenties, but I make due. I have some hard and fast rules: no pain, no audible whining, and no crying while guests are still seated at the bar.
We are humans (right?), which means we are immortal (I think?) and susceptible to certain injuries (I guess?). Our bodies have an uncanny aptitude for teaching us about physics and laws of gravity, applied at moments where we attempt to usurp the immortality in vain.
Bartenders are on a stage. It’s unavoidable. And bar injuries in front of half-stewed people relaxing at your bar is never fun. We bar professionals are taught to maintain our decorum whilst behind the stick. Getting hurt while bartending never looks cool. And if you’re a dork like me, you can’t help but unexpectedly finding awkward turns, twists and topples every time you need to grab something different than the well, the ice scoop, or the tickets flying at you.
Which brings us to The Ouch Club. Or Club Owey. Or The Ouch. Stories of when we got injured, hurt ourselves, or as I like to say, broke something extremely important and somehow lived through the wreckage, onward and upward. To quote one of my early bartender influences, Patrick Swayze in the seminal Road House, “Pain don’t hurt.” (Also, shout out to one of Jessie’s rec league soccer teams calling themselves Hat Trick Swayze. I dig it.)
Though many bartenders are viewed as demigods, we in fact are human, and still suffer the maladies of physics: moving too fast for our own good; losing our vision in darkened territories, finding our skin is not in fact unbreakable. We bruise. We bleed. We twist our knees trying to reach under-counter fridges, tweak cartilage in our hips sidestepping a hurried colleague, or definitely (oh we most definitely) find our wet hands trying to peel fruit too fast, too sloppy, and learn that sharp metal against soft skin can be detrimental to finishing a long shift without a major First-Aid pit stop.
These war stories come from all the talented people interviewed for my last cocktail book, The United States of Cocktails. I had an idea of publishing a little pocket compendium to the book at some point, maybe have little booklets where I could hand out during the book tour highlighting these all the bartenders I interviewed for the book throughout the experience writing and researching.
Alas, the book was published in 2020, which kinda made things difficult to 1) Travel, 2) Congregate in Bars, and 3) Spend money on books, drinks, or some combination of the two.
The real people in these celebrated stories endured to make sure everyone in the room had a Jack and Coke, a classic Negroni, a glass of Champagne at New Year’s midnight, and so much more.
Thank you everyone. Thank you to the bartenders who are not mentioned here. We all work together in this world. Let’s get out alive, preferably without excessive bandages wrapped around our hands or limbs.
“We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us. Death, or Bootwood.”
-- Charles Bukowski
WHAT’S THE WORST INJURY YOU SUFFERED WHILE BARTENDING?
DERMOT McCORMACK (Kettle of Fish, New York) – Back at the old Blind Tiger Ale House, we used to have free hot dogs on Wednesdays. They were self-serve, dirty water dogs. At the end of the night, I had to walk this massive hot dog container down a steep flight of stairs. One night I slipped on a half-eaten hot dog someone left on the stairs. The still-hot water poured all over my crotch, and I sat there and silently wept for 10 minutes. My left leg was dark purple for a month.
NATALIE BOVIS (The Liquid Muse, founder of New Mexico Cocktails & Culture Culinary Festival, New Mexico) — I sliced of a big piece of skin while using a mandolin. Ultimately, I guess I wasn’t being as careful as I should. It was pretty gross and I had to go to the hospital because of all the bleeding.
JACOB GRIER (Author/Bartender, Oregon) — Do injuries to my pride count? Because there was the time I invited a Tinder match to the bar and she ended up leaving her number for my co-worker.
JOHN DYE (Owner, Bryant’s Lounge, Milwaukee) — Oooo, I had the spindle of a blender dig into my thumb fingernail. It was a disgusting, gnarly accident that still makes me shiver.
SAM TREADWAY (Backbar, Boston) — Cut my fingers up pretty bad at different points. Fell down a flight of stairs spraining my ankle. But my favorite is dropping a 50 pound block of ice on my foot, breaking two toes and still working a 12 hour shift.
HUNT REVELL (Seabar, Athens, Georgia) — Damn. Just old man back stuff.
EMILY MORTON (Bar Director, Deli 126, Burlington, Vermont) — Ahhhhh, this is a good one. In the middle of a busy shift, I was looking up at a guest answering a question. Trying to be ever efficient, I was also putting a signed slip onto the ticket stabber with my left hand as I have one million times in my life. In a twisted moment of my epic clumsiness, I stabbed right through my hand instead. Like right through. A look of horror on the guest’s face, and a look of shock on mine, me and the stabber ran off the bar into the back dishwashing area. My friend the pastry chef saw my face, asked me what happened, and was greeted with a solitary sob. A laugh later, out came the stabber (very little blood), and off I went to the medical clinic to get a tetanus shot. To this day, not sure what happened to those tickets....
THOR MESSER (Formerly at Merchant, Madison, WI) — Jump kick off of bar, dislocated pinky toe.
“Nobody goes to the ballet or opera anymore. They’re too busy going to Bootwood, child.
— Timothee Chalamet
MURRAY STENSON (Seattle, RIP dear Murray) — Rotator cuff. Working at the Zig Zag. We had a climbing wall, and as I went up to grab a bottle, it ripped. I still worked. I stirred everything, but I still worked. I never did the heavy lifting, anyway.
TOBY CECCHINI (New York) — I sliced my hand open on a jar of cherries, just cut my entire hand open, tendons and everything, when I was trying to save the jar from falling to the ground. I was by myself at the bar. I actually went home and thought I could just close it up with butterfly stitches, but then my wife asked if I was insane, as it was a gaping wound. I went to the hospital and got forty-five stitches and a repaired tendon. I also now have really bad arthritis in my thumbs from shaking cocktails. My hands are wrecked.
MORGAN MCKINNEY (Memphis) — I was in a minor accident in September 2017 when a drunk driver pulled out in front a friend’s motorcycle on the way home from a concert. Although I didn’t break anything, getting skipped across Madison Avenue like a rock across a pond was not an ideal way to end the night. No one could cover for me the next day, so I showed up and worked the whole shift still in the same ripped up jeans from the night before because I was so sore, I couldn’t get them off! Anytime I made a sour, I had to pass the shaker around to guests to shake for me because my shoulders and hands were so mangled from the accident I couldn’t do it long enough myself to get it cold. Physically it was one of the hardest shifts I’ve ever worked, but the communal energy coming from my customers when they were (sort of) forced to become part of the bartending experience was actually really cool to see. I ended up creating a pop up menu with drinks based on the whole experience.
TRISTEN HOFFER (Bismarck, North Dakota) — I zested my whole tip of my finger off. It was a factor of being “In the weeds,” carelessness, and trying to so too many things at once. My whole philosophy is based on procedures, best practices, and mis en place “everything in its place”. On this night, I was not in the right head space and didn’t take the correct steps to get myself out of this funk. The moment it happened I immediately felt myself become disappointed because I am a very outspoken person of taking care of yourself and taking the correct steps to prevent these types of things. So immediately I cleaned my wounds, taped my finger and jumped right back in to pull myself out of the weeds. Now I pride myself in always, no matter what, taking the correct precautions to finish a job.
IAN OLSON (New York) — Wine stem. Right through the palm of my hand. A little bit of blood. (Pause.) Yeah. A lot of blood.
“You don’t want stitches in Thunder Bay. You don’t want stitches reading Bootwood, either, but you better be careful, because Bootwood’ll cut ya.”
— Patrick Swayze, Youngblood
JOSH GRAHAM (West Virginia) — We hand wash all of our glassware at Tin 202. Without looking down into the sink I plummeted my hand toward the drain to clean the sink not knowing a red wine glass had fallen in and shattered at the bottom. I sliced my middle finger down to the bone and another deep gash in my hand. Needless to say I was done mixing drinks for the evening.
NATASHA DAVID (New York, aka Jeremy Oertel’s wife) — Well I’ve hurt my back, and cut off nails with peelers, but I’d say the most dramatic experience was when I impaled a knife in my hand, looked down and immediately fainted.
JEREMY OERTEL (New York, aka Natasha David’s husband) —I once peeled off almost all of my fingernail on my pinky finger. It was the last cocktail I was making for the night at Death & Co. I was talking to a customer in front of me and the peeler slipped. I looked down and saw the orange twist I was cutting on the cutting board covered in blood. I didn’t get it to stop bleeding until the next day.
KEVIN KING (South Carolina) — It’s never fun racking your knee on the side of the rail!
JERMAINE WHITEHEAD (Seattle) — A snow day in Seattle where every bar on our street was closed except for ours. I’m full on running all over the place, dropping food, making drinks, running drinks, and clearing tables. I took an empty wine bottle and started to remove the metal wrapping around the lip of the bottle. It was becoming too difficult so I grabbed some scissors and started to force it off with the sharp side. I slipped and stabbed my pointer finger to the bone. Removed the scissors and the wound closed shut quickly but became a geyser as soon as I put tape on it and a plastic glove. Getting through that day was a HUGE challenge. Never got stitches.
BRANDON PECK (Virginia) — New Year’s Eve 2016, post shift, as the clock struck midnight I was convinced that it would be a great time to learn how to saber a bottle of bubbly. It popped on the first strike, but in the shock of my success I failed to follow through with the hand holding the short knife I’d used, and the jagged neck of sparkling wine rocked into the side of my hand cutting me deeply and spilling my blood all over the floor of the restaurant. I still look at the deep scar on my hand daily and laugh about how stupid an injury it was.
REBECCA CATE (California) — I’m not a professional bartender, but I successfully took off part of my pinky with a wide peeler making Smuggler’s Cove spiced rum.
ERIC HO (Ohio) — Cut off the tip of my finger with a brand new peeler. Bartended 1 handed for 15 min with a towel wrapped around my finger and hand raised over my head until I finished up the rush.
CODY HORAN (South Dakota) — We carve ice spheres for cocktails and when I first started I would give myself little nicks here and there but one time I cut the tip of my middle finger pretty bad, took a real good piece of meat and about a third of the nail with it.
JOY BUEHLER (Iowa) — I once got staph infection in a tiny cut of my hand during my last shift of a double-double at the end of an 80 hour week. It happened during brunch shift and by dinner service, I couldn’t open my right hand, let alone use a wine key or hold a bottle. I did learn how to bartend left-handed out of necessity but was eventually sent home. I ended up passing out from exhaustion despite the pain and by the time I awoke, my thumb and most of my palm had tripled in size. I affectionately called it my “Shrek Hand.” I had to take 1000mg of antibiotics daily for 2 weeks.
DALE DEGROFF (aka King Cocktail, New York) — My appendix burst in the middle of a shift at the Bel Air Hotel in Los Angeles, I had an emergency appendectomy at UCLA medical center 10 minutes away… my sons god father Paul, the steward at the hotel dragged my sorry ass there and basically saved my life.
Okay. Good for now. Round 1 of The Ouch Club has concluded.
If you’ve read to this point you are likely never going to try peeling another piece of fruit again.
I have a LONG list of bartenders telling me their most gnarly bar mishap and we are going to publish all of them, so stay tuned for ROUND 2 of THE OUCH CLUB. I also want to hear from you, dear reader and fellow mortal, about a story related to PAIN.
Pain makes us beautiful. Let’s share in some heinous recollections of the pain we all know and love.
My dental hygienist once told me “You’re awesome with pain.”
Then he retired.
It’s been four years since I’ve heard that.
I still don’t know what to do with that information.