There’s this guy I know. He occasionally comments here by the name of Ex-Bartender, so we’ll call him Ex-Bartender. Ex-Bartender, as the name would suggest, is no longer a bartender. Ex-Bartender went back to school for a graduate degree in Computer Geek. Ex-Bartender is now a technologist. Ex-Bartender can boor the living hell out of people by rambling on for hours about XML applications. Ex-Bartender will say things to me like “Well, it not css’s fault that browsers can’t read your bad code.”

I like Ex-Bartender.

In retrospect, I probably paid for Ex-Bartender’s graduate degree. Ex-Bartender, you’re welcome; and about my bad code, kiss my ass. If you don’t like my bad code, fix it... you owe me.

Back when Ex-Bartender was a bartender, he was the most hateful, miserable and misanthropic bartender I had ever seen. He was the best. You know how nice bartenders have that irritating bell behind the bar they ring when they receive a good tip? Ex-Bartender would never do anything that lame. Ex-Bartender kept a shrieking horn behind the bar. When someone wouldn’t give him a decent tip, he would pull the horn out and blow it in their face.

I loved that horn.

One time some horrible customer accused Ex-Bartender of being a racist for not treating him like gold. Ex-Bartender said to him “If Asshole is a race, than yes, I am a racist. Now get the fuck out of my bar!” When underage musicians would walk into the bar and try to pass flyers out for their underage rock bands, Ex-Bartender would pull them aside and say to them “Hey, can I come to your show and pass out flyers for my really cool bartending? Now get the fuck out of my bar!” On those occasions when the bar would fill up three deep with wretched rich art school students who liked to pretend they were poor and kept down by the Man, Ex-Bartender would sit down on a stool and yell out, “Until you assholes learn how to tip, I’m on a fucking break.”

“But we’ll give you a five dollar tip for one pitcher.”
“I’M.ON.A.FUCKING.BREAK!”

Ex-Bartender would then wait for me to finish my scotch and beer (which admittedly, would never take more than four or five minutes), refill my glasses, and then resume tending to the irritating masses.

The Ex-Bartender hung out for a few hours the other night. Something really really HORRIBLE has happened to the Ex-Bartender. He has a mind-numbingly boring job that he loves, is in a functional long-term relationship with a woman whom he’s planning on moving in with, and now everything is all marshmallows and sunshine for the Ex-Bartender. He has become the Stepford Wife of ex-bartenders.

“One of these days, Adam, you’re going to look across the room, lock eyes with a woman, and everything in your life is going to change.”

I am not kidding you. He actually said those words to me.

“Adam, I think it is really really great that you’ve given up drinking, blah blah blah blah blah..........

“Hey everybody, let’s let Adam how proud we are of him. Let’s all do what we can to support him, blah blah blah blah....

“Is that John and Mary over there? Are they dating now? I think that’s great. They make a really cute couple. They deserve to be happy.”

Huh?

Okay, whoever you are out there, I want you to return the old Ex-Bartender. This new Care Bears and puppy dogs ex-bartender kind of makes me want to vomit. That miserable son of a bitch needs to come back to us and fix my fucking code. He does owe me, after all.