A bad barman makes a good...

Hi,

I hope 2016 is already a good year.

We haven’t met, so you already know who I might be.

First I thought of giving you some elements to show the writer, "worthy of your time" kind of applicant I am. Then I thought it would be boring to read on a friday. Seriously, who sends an application on a late friday afternoon...

Fact is, I’m already convinced by my skills, it’s not like I need to persuade somebody else about this to get a job right? I do?

Never mind, instead I decided to give you the reasons why I’m really not that good as a barman and a waiter.

That’s a better way for you to realize I’m so bad at these other jobs I must be a great creative writer.
I also master the “Digital world” as you may have noticed, with me starting to follow you on Twitter something like one hour before sending this application.

Smart eh? “D natives” they call us…

But you don’t care. No, the real interest is in my ridiculous experiences as working other gigs when I arrived in London one month ago while I was preparing this awesome application.

Act 1: English beers and "floaties".

First time I had an incident, as a waiter, was when a customer asked me if the pieces of seaweed inside her beer were supposed to be there. Being new in London, I told her it might be possible.
Well it was not.

Act 2: A barman is supposed to be confident

I really have no idea how to make cocktails and be a “cool” friendly bartender.
The last time I worked in that bar and went to tables asking “Do you need anything else?” “Can I take your glasses?” people seemed truly scared as if my face was yelling at them “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING RIGHT NOW!!!”

Starting your trial shift by having a sample of every draught beer available in the bar before doing your work is not the best way to be efficient. Or is it?
The manager was nice though.

I’m hard working, funny and fast when it comes to get good ideas and pitch, not so much when it comes to pour alcohol in glasses with a huge crowd around me.

Let’s have a chat and talk about us, vacancies and movies.

I’ll bring beers, in bottles. That I can handle.

Kindest regards.

Bill Burr - Pain and Laughter

I Love Louis C.K.
Simple genius.

But recently i discovered Bill Burr on Conan, lots of shorts appearances of the comic on the Conan Show. 2 or 3 minutes of pure anger and laugh.

So I watched his show Bill Burr - Let It Go. Man he's good. You can feel the pain and the rage of the guy, the way he uses comedy not to kill someone everyday. Serial killer would have been an option.
But better, this guy killed me properly.

The bit about the dog, and the old guy at the end, straight classic.

Just watch this. He explains how he kept all of his feelings and emotions inside, making him a human time bomb. All this little actions you're afraid to do as a man and you think of yourself too gay to eventually do... Well he expresses the fear some men have and how it can be recycled as anger and pain and eventually death by heart attack for no apparent reason at 50.

Just a great comic, working on his anger by pain and laughter. 

Move at the light

You know what annoys me the most in London, for now.

The stop lights. This is ridiculous.
London is supposed to be a big city, where people move, and are stressed and everything is fast and at the stop lights, nobody moves.
Fuck.
Really ?
The guy in the car doesn't move, I don't, the girl next to me doesn't, and so is the other car on the opposite side. It's like a frozen time and we all look silly.

So everyone is still for 10 seconds. And nothing happens.
Sometimes as a pissed off foreigner, preferably french, I'm so pissed I try to cross the street... and that's the moment a vehicle appears from nowhere and you step back.
Looking even sillier.

But when you do cross at the red light, oh boy, english people whispers...
"He's a foreigner... ohh what courage and bravery that implies" or just "fucking French".

Dogs and Duck

I was walking on the canal from angel tube to haggerston, on my way to de beauvoir estate, this crapy place in the golden triangle where I've just moved.


Angel (west)  - Old street (south) - Dalston Hacket (East)
and in the middle, the mer de beauvoir estate. Not really nice but I like crap.

I saw two dogs playing and the owners were looking at them with a smile, while the dogs jumped each other near the canal.
I stopped and i looked with them, a smile on my face.
I really felt like i was not right to be there. None of the two dogs were mine.
So here i was, as a intruder in this peculiar "dog owner" joyfull moment of seeing their beloved pets play.
And me.
Felt good, wrong but good.


Also there was a frozen duck, still, on the walk. Bikes would pass next to him and he did not give a *uck.

How Robert Redford gave birth to Brad Pitt

I recently saw the Sting (1973) with Redford and Newman and boy I was shocked to realize how much Robert Redford's face gimmicks looks a lot alike Brad's.

Brad is the real con artist here. 

The hair dresser always know when to stay quite.

I wen to cut my air.
The guy that did it stayed focused, did not talk to me too much.
He knew I needed some silence. And the silence was joined with Phil Collins on his drum set on the radio.
This guy told me he was from Chypre. It was on Chiswick High road.
A place called "Chris".

The little girl's newspaper

There was this little girl, trying to read the newspaper, all this twice her size.
Sitting in the tube, all she really wanted was to look like an adult. 

I could have been a barista

I had a meeting on my first week in london for a position in a high standard coffee shop.
They consider coffee as wine, and the barista is the sommelier.
Let's just say when i arrived I probably drank coffee like 10 times in my life, no more, I'm not a coffee junkie, I hate mornings but instead of forcing me to wake up with coffee, I simply continue to sleep. Easy.

So I arrive in the shop and wanted to talk to the italian barista trainer for my interview. He is nice, and ask me to wait outside. He asks "you want a coffee", "of course, an espresso please". What else should I have said ?

"No, tea please."

I sit outside, there is an italian girl, seems like a waiter or employee of the coffee shop, crying and screaming on the phone outside. I already love this place.
The italian barista trainer sits with me and tells me the girl is his colleague, he then joins his hands in a prayer, looks at me and says "Women...".

I already like this man.
Judging by the screaming, tears and drama I think it has to do this sentimental life. But i like it, drama is life and boy she was living it fully.

I speak with him and general manger, it's ok, I say my stuff and he then asks me to follow him behind the counter to prepare a coffee.
Let me tell you I had looked on youtube how to prepare a decent coffee.
He does it. And then it's my turn. I take coffee inside the handle, I press it, espresso pours out, I steam the milk like a virgin and add it to the coffee with a huge smile on my face.
All the other employees were gravitating around me at this point. I looked like an ass. But I was having a huge laugh, in my head.

Two days later he offered me the position.
I could have been a great barista. But I wouldn't have been able to tell you this story. Next time maybe.