Chapter 4: Training Part 2
She demonstrated how to moderate comments and respond to messages. “Never ignore a customer inquiry, even if it is just a compliment. Respond politely, thank them, and keep it brief. Aston’s rule: always reinforce the bar’s reputation for hospitality.” As she handed me the mouse, Jessica smiled. “You will get the hang of it. Just remember, anything you post is public—Aston expects us to keep things respectful, accurate, and welcoming. And if you are ever unsure, as before posting. He would rather wait for the right update than rush the wrong one.” I practiced navigating the dashboard, updating an upcoming jazz night, and attaching a photo of last week’s open mic. Jessica watched as I typed, correcting my phrasing gently and reminding me of Aston’s standards. By the end of the session, I felt a wary confidence—nervous about the responsibility, but certain that with Jessica’s guidance, I could help maintain the bar’s online presence just as Aston envisioned: inviting, professional, and unmistakably ours.
Once she was satisfied with my handling of the dashboard, Jessica turned businesslike. She pulled out a printed checklist and tapped it with her pen. “Now, let’s go through everything you’ll be responsible for as assistant manager.” She began with the essentials: overseeing daily operations and making sure staff clock in and out, and everyone has the supplies they need. “Inventory checks are every Thursday—double-check the soda syrups and the wine shelf, those always run out faster than you think,” she said. Scheduling shifts was next, balancing hours between regulars and newcomers, fielding last-minute swaps, and keeping the calendar up to date. “Open and close procedures—know them by heart,” Jessica continued, her tone gentle but firm. “You will be first to arrive, sometimes last to leave. Count the register, check the cleaning log, and lock up. If there is a spill or a broken glass, write it up. We keep records on everything.”
She covered customer service, reminding me to settle disputes with patience and discretion. “If someone complains, listen first. Apologize, offer a solution, and loop in Aston if it is serious. We are known for handling things gracefully.” Event coordination landed next—promoting weekly jazz nights, updating flyers, confirming performers, and prepping the stage. “You will handle bookings from musicians and poets. Be accommodating but do not bend the rules; late arrivals get bumped.” Then there were the numbers: reconciling cash, logging nightly sales, and preparing quick summaries for Aston. “Accuracy matters—if the cash doesn’t add up, retrace every step before reporting.” Jessica nodded toward the back office. “There’s paperwork, too: invoices, safety reports, maintenance requests.
Stay organized. And sometimes, you will train new hires—walk them through the same things I am showing you.” She finished with a smile. “It sounds like a lot, but you will grow into it. You are not alone—if you ever need help, ask. Aston trusts us to handle the details, so the bar keeps running smooth.” I glanced at the checklist, feeling equally nervous and ready, as Jessica slipped it across the desk for me to keep. As My training proceeds, out on the floor Russell is going through his training.
On the other side of the bar, Jericho’s approach was quieter but no less methodical. He stood with Russell behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, a notepad tucked into his apron pocket. “First things first: know your bar inside out,” Jericho began, gesturing to the rows of bottles and the neat stacks of glassware. “A head bartender doesn’t just pour drinks—they set the tone for the whole shift.” He led Russell through the opening routine, checking ice levels, slicing limes with precision, and ensuring every garnish tray was full. “Mise enu place isn’t just for kitchens,” Jericho said. “If you’re prepared, nothing rattles you.” He talked Russell through the POS system, shadowing him as he rang in a mock order, correcting the sequence when Russell hesitated. “Speed is good, but accuracy is everything. A head bartender has to catch mistakes before they happen—and own them if they do.”
Jericho quizzed Russell on the recipes for the bar’s signature cocktails, mixing an Old Fashioned and then sliding the shaker over. “Now you. Talk me through it.” Russell’s hands shook ever so slightly, but Jericho nodded with encouragement, offering pointers on muddling technique and the proper way to flame an orange peel. When Russell fumbled, Jericho turned the lesson into a story about his own first night and the glass he shattered at eleven o’clock. “What matters is how you recover. Keep your cool and laugh it off if you can.” They moved on to managing the floor—reading the energy of a Friday crowd, watching for guests whose glasses were low, and preempting the moment things got busy. “It’s your job to spot trouble before it starts,” Jericho explained, lowering his voice as the early regulars began to trickle in. “And to set the pace when we’re slammed. If you’re calm, the team will be, too.”
Finally, he handed Russell a small leather notebook, dog-eared and scribbled with years of tips. “This is yours now. Add to it. Every head bartender makes the job their own.” When Russell looked up, Jericho offered a rare, genuine smile. “You’re ready to step up. Just remember—we’re all here to back you up. That’s how this place works.” As the night rears on Russell and Remy in their new positions and roles of the bar look at everything thoroughly making sure that they didn’t overlook anything, when the night comes to a close and they assign cleaning jobs to the bartenders and barmaids, Aston comes down from his office. “Remy, Jett a word please.” They walk over to Aston and as they come face to face with their boss he starts to speak. “Jett, Remy is your responsibility, meaning guard her with your life. Outside of work you are to pick her up bring her to work and bring her home. Of course you will be paid extra for this.
He says with a stern firm voice. “Got it.” Jett says esthetically to his new role. He then turns to Remy. “This is for your own protection, I don’t want anything happening to you. I don’t trust Jerica as far as I can throw her and that isn’t far.” He says the last part as a joke to lighten the mood. After Russell helps with clean-up and Remy counts the money at the register Jett and Carson does the heavy lifting of bar stools and chairs on the floor so that the barmaids can sweep and mop around the tables without trouble. As the night fully comes to a close Jett walks over to Remy. “Ready to go?” “Yes.” She says as she follows him out the door and to the parking lot. Jett stops at a motorcycle and Remy gasps. “On that?” “Yeah, what did you think, that I came to work in a normal car or bike, oh I know you thought I walked to work like you and Russell. No, a motorcycle, you got a problem with that??” “No.” she says as she excitedly hops on the back and Jett hands her a helmet, helping her put it on. He then gets on. “Here we go.” He says riving the engine and pulling out.
