Saturday night I got to work and discovered that I didn't have a barback. My regular barback, Taylor, was out of town for the weekend, and he had told management four weeks prior, and then told them again a week later when the schedule went up with his name on it. So when Harried Manager came down at 5:30 and asked where my barback was, I snapped back at him
"I don't know, Harried Manager, where is my barback? Did you schedule one?" There followed an exchange wherein he tried to accuse Taylor of not getting his shift covered, and then me getting argumentative, then him telling me I had done the same thing when I left town, then me telling him he was full of it and that I had everything covered and he screwed it all up (which was only partially true. Too loud Trixie threw a fit because I hadn't asked her to cover the shifts, so she bullied him into taking the shifts away from the more deserving and far more talented and professional Taylor) and then I realized too late that Too loud Trixie was sitting at the bar smirking. She thoroughly enjoys it when other people are angry at each other. Thoroughly. I immediately backed off, patted Harried Manager on the shoulder and said that there was nothing for it and we would just have to roll with it.
What wound up happening was TLT had three beers and made an ass of herself with a customer, then she left after apologizing that she couldn't possibly help me out (as if I would ever want her to). The b.h. finished working in the kitchen around seven, and he came downstairs right about the time shit started to hit the fan. He asked if he could help at all and I asked if he remembered how to barback, and we ended up working behind the bar together for the first time in two years. It went very well, all things considered. It was probably the busiest Saturday night we'd had since the leafers left, and martinis were on special, so I must have made about a hundred and fifty of those, but in the end it all worked out just fine. Harried manager remembered after some reflection, that Taylor and he had in fact discussed this weekend, and that he had said not to worry since Saturdays had not been very busy lately. He said this with the proper amount of sheepishness and regret in his voice so I didn't have to bludgeon him to death with an empty Maker's Mark bottle. In the end we made a good bit of money and i didn't have to tip anyone out, so all was well.


I was at the Local grocery on Sunday when I overheard one co-worker say to the other
"I'm going to buy propane at the wahlmart."
The other responded
"Seriously?"
"Nope. I have a history of pyrotechnics in my family you know. I started my first fire when I was eight."
"You're scaring me. Are you joking?"

What followed was a story thatIi had actually already heard, but that I had forgotten and thought you might get a kick out of. The Firestarter had a lot of brothers, and no girls to hang around with when she was growing up except a couple of cousins, who were always mean to her. She tried and tried to be friends and to hang out with them whenever possible, but they would always go away to a cabin they had and she wasn't invited. She asked repeatedly to be brought to said cabin, which was not far from their home, but was a fun getaway, and they wouldn't let her. So one day when nobody was at the cabin, she went and got two cans of propane and burned it down. This at age eight. My other co-worker, not having heard this story before, was in total shock.

"Oh my god Firestarter! What happened? Did you get in trouble?"
"No. Nobody knows it was me. They still don't. I'm waiting for the right time to tell them."

I think the funniest part of this is that the Firestarter is, as far as i can tell, a stable, responsible adult. She is married and has a kid and works hard and never calls in and is totally dependable. Just don't push her, I guess. I'd like to introduce her to Too Loud Trixie. Or at least Trixie's house.