All right, for the uninitiated, see this?

This is a “bar station”. Also known as a “well”. The pan on the bottom with all the liquor bottles is the “speed rail”, you have the “ice bin” which is self-explanatory, and the fruit tray right up against the counter. But see that other side? Right across the counter there? That’s also “The Well”, but can also be called “The Wait Station” or “Service Station”.

DON’T STAND IN FRONT OF IT!!!!

Seriously, we’re trying to do our job here! Imagine you’re at your office gig, and every time you have to use the phone, fax machine, or copier there’s a drunk asshole sitting right in front of it, and you have to reach around them to get anything done. And the parents at table 72 need their Margaritas NOW!

Now, I know, the vast majority of the time, almost everyone kind of gets it. Most people respect the well. But when the bar area gets all crowded, and we get on a wait, every now and then, some oblivious jerkwads decided that’s a good place to camp while they wait to get seated. NO! Bad Tourist! (Smacks with newspaper).

The fact is, I don’t care what the circumstance is, there is simply no good reason to stand there.

No where else to stand? Fuck you, go outside, then. We’re probably at fire code limits as is. We’ll call your name shortly.

Watching the Cubs game? A giant fuck you. They haven’t won anything since the cotton gin was invented, therefore they’re not deserving of your loyalty, anyway.

Trying to pick up the huge chested bartender? Fuck you, pal. I’ve got news for you. Nursing a Bud Light that you tipped a buck on while trying to show her your HILARIOUS Borat impression is getting you nowhere. Also, she has a boyfriend. Who could probably kick your ass. I know, because I already tried and failed.

Can’t get a drink? Fuck you. Try waiting patiently for a table or seat to open up. Were you just raped in the men’s room and suddenly need a drink right now to wash away the horrible memories? Maybe you need a police officer instead of a bartender.

Anyway, everytime I see someone stand there, I immediately want to do this:

I like the one right around 1:11. Mainly because if I were to check you over the bar like that, I would throw you through a large series of glassware and on top of the speed rail. That would be ever so much fun.

It’s waiting tables on hockey skates that’s the real bitch.