Some guy came in for
some innocent diversion, only he had about a grand on him.
We had about six gals there, all sizes and all types. They worked on a percentage, so many drinks
- phonies - drunk a night, so much earned. Well, this
unlucky guy comes in. I strike up a tune and the big parade
starts. First one gal sidles up to this fall guy; he doesn't give her a tumble.
Then another, and still another. By this time he's downed several and is more
amiable. Soon he latches on to one he likes. You know these girls could promise
strange worlds with their eyes - it didn't pay to gaze too deeply. Well, he
invites one of the gals to drink with him, and soon she's warming him up, and
he buys me one - and then she invites one of her "girl friends" to join
her - and pretty soon it's one big happy family, with our friend for the
afternoon buying drinks for the house, about ten of us, and the drinks comin'
so fast that nobody got a chance to really drink except, of course, our
indiscreet friend. And somehow he passed
out and had to be assisted upstairs. Just before my shift was up, he awoke - refreshed,
but very short of dough. Very short. He was very outspoken about it, but no one
knew where it had strayed, except - "Remember, you were buyin' everybody
drinks - remember?" And so he started drinking again, and fell off one of
the stools. This time the dishwasher helped him up, but somehow his hand got caught
in this man's pocket. But the man with the grand (minus) wasn't that drunk. He
put up a squawk. So there was nothing for Old Man McGovern to do but fire the
dishwasher. So he got his hat and coat on and with his head hanging low, walked
out - out, past the front window to the side door that also led back of the bar
(partitioned off) to the kitchen, where I later saw him back at work, washing
dishes.