Behind The Red Door


The Red Door is an excellent bar with a mostly friendly staff and a solid bunch of guys for owners.

Despite those fine qualitites, there is a reason I don’t hang out there
anymore.  Right after the place opened my pals and I made that our
after work headquarters.  We would knock off about three in the
blessed p.m. and start some hard drinking.  Mean ugly hard
drinking.  Many a night I would wake up about three a.m. not
remembering the drive home or how I got in my bed with all my clothes
still on.  The bartenders were a lot of fun and we ran up some
astronomical tabs.  They were tipped very generously and treated
us with the same consideration.  We were the Kings of the  of
Happy Hour (3pm-7pm).

As  these stories go, something changed.  We got a new bartender.  
She was nice and pretty and flirted with all us guys.  But our bar
tabs were getting a little bigger without a corresponding increase in
consumption.  We were still tipping on the extremely generous side
somewhere in the 25-110% range.  That figure is skewed high
because my business partner is an easy mark for flirty girls. 

Turns out that mysterious drinks would wind up on the bill.  And
the shots that we would do with the bartender would wind up on the
bill.  Previously, the bartenders either bought or ‘comped’ their
own shots.  But this chick would say “Hey I want to do a shot with
y’all.”  Sure, why not?  She didn’t say “Hey, I want to do a
shot with y’all and I want you to pay for it and tip me 50% on top of
that.”  See, that would be a dead give-away that we were getting

After a couple of weeks of trying to decipher the night before’s bar
bill, we finally figured out what she was doing.  So we quit going
there.  Nothing better than an economic solution.  Soon all
of the other “Happy Hour” regulars were winding up at different
bars.  We would run into these fellow Red Door veterans and they
would all tell the same story about how they would get a check for $60
for ten beers.  Domestic beers.   Fucking Bud
Lights.  So they too, quit going.

Long story short (too late), word got around.  In fact, word got
back to the bartender that everyone was on to her little game. 
People  were refusing to patronize an otherwise great watering
hole because she’s a greedy dumb cunt.  Because she was cute and
flirty the owners did nothing.  And when she asked, “Who is
complaining?”  All these stalwart and steadfast men of character
pointed their trembling little fingers at me.  Yep, I’m the bad
guy in this story.  Every story has one.


3 Responses to “Behind The Red Door”

  1. smantix Says:

    Well. One of the first girls died shortly after they opened and then Christy(sp?) left for a while. Unarguably my favorite bartender since the Brewhouse.Maybe the RD was being used to compensate for some of the many other bar ventures springing up all over town. An example being The Blue Bar has just changed hands.

  2. Sarcastro Says:

    I was hanging out there when the girl died. Very sad. Who knows what will happen with Blue Bar under Chuck’s (new majority owner)regime? He may make it work.Christy is a great bartender and may still be there.

  3. Steve Riley Says:

    I empathize with ya. The same thing happened in Duluth. The catch is that I’d be drunk enough to not be 100% confident that I was being ripped off. I’d drunkenly look at my bill, thinking, “Did I drink THAT much?” After I started getting more suspicious, I told the bartender in question that I wanted to pay for my drinks as I ordered them. It was a tipoff that he kept insisting that I keep a tab. I solved it the same way; by not going to the bar. Eventually enough people caught on and the bartender actually got the message and appears to have stopped. I’m still on my guard and refuse to have more than a couple when he’s working.

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