The hands on Opal’s hips balled into fists. “You went over my head?”
“No, I went to my direct supervisor to make this recommendation. That’s my job. You head up the floor, so now our boss wants your input. Bailey wants to learn. I want to give her the opportunity. If you can’t spare her and she’s willing, I can train her on her days off. We’ll coordinate the schedule.”
“Could be the girl has a life.”
“If it doesn’t suit her, she can say no. Ask her yourself.”
Now Opal folded her arms. “She says no, then you write in her eval how she’s uncooperative and lacks ambition.”
“Why the hell would I do that? Jesus Christ, Opal.”
“Don’t you swear at me.”
Screw that, Morgan thought. Just screw that.
“Don’t you accuse me of undermining one of the team. If she doesn’t want the training, she says thanks but no thanks, and that’s the end of it. It’s her choice. Put up roadblocks if that’s how you feel about it, but don’t point fingers at me.
“Pick a day, half hour before shift. We need to have this out.”
“I do my job.”
“You do. If we can’t resolve this, we’ll both keep doing our jobs and rubbing each other the wrong way. I can live with that. Be sure to give Nell your input on Bailey.”
Morgan walked back in, took over the bar, and tried not to steam.
In about ten minutes, Bailey came up to the bar.
“Opal said since we’re slow right now you might have time to work with me.”
“Sure.” Satisfied Opal hadn’t put up those roadblocks, Morgan gestured Bailey back. “Until you’re needed back on the floor, you’re going to backbar. Assist,” Morgan explained. “Keep the ice well full, prep garnishes, replace bottles, clear and replace glassware. Right now, the stools are empty, so it’s table service. It’s well bartending, and for that you need good communication skills with the servers.”
“I get that.”
“Back here, it’s clean, sanitary, organized, and calm—even when things get rushed and you fall behind, you need calm. If you stay organized, the calm won’t be so hard to find. After you use a bottle, put it back where it goes. Every time, whether it’s premium or on the speed rack.”
She gestured under the bar. “Unless a customer calls the brand or label or specific mixer, these are your common go-tos. The two women just coming in? They’re old friends taking a few days. They’re going to take stools.”
When they did, Morgan moved to greet them. “How were the massages?”
“Heavenly.” The one on the left—about fifty, red-framed glasses, blond hair in a messy tail—sighed. “I’m surprised either of us can sit upright.”
Her companion—dark mop of curly hair, sleepy brown eyes—laughed. “But we’ll manage, because we’re topping things off with those delicious apricot coladas.”
“Got you covered. Charge to your room?”
“Please.”
Morgan nodded approval when Bailey handed her a dish of bar snacks. “We use brandy snifters for these,” she told Bailey as she added ice to the blender. “Build and blend. Apricot halves in heavy syrup. Pineapple juice concentrate, coconut milk, rum, and light crème de cacao.”
“You didn’t measure any of it.”
“I did, but by eye and count.” She hit the switch.
“Love that sound,” the brunette said. “Pretty quiet in here tonight.”
“Midweek quiet, and a private party on the Club Level.”
“And they didn’t invite us,” the blonde said.
“Their loss, our gain.”
Morgan poured the drinks into the snifters, garnished each with a slice of pineapple. “Enjoy.”
Quick on the uptake, Bailey washed the blender. “I get the by eye, but not the by count when you’re pouring.”
“I use a four-count. With my pours, four seconds an ounce. You should take home one of the empties, and you can borrow a jigger. Use water. Measure it first, an ounce, ounce and a half, two ounces into a glass. Use another glass to practice your free pour. By eye and count.”
“Like one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi.”
“That’s it. You’ve got people skills from serving. They’re not much different behind the stick, but you need to study, get familiar with different types of alcohol, different kinds of drinks, and basic lingo.”