Erin… seriously, just go, bragh.

The Misfits tended bar at Ripcord this past Saturday, and since it was the night before St. Patrick’s Day, we wore kilts, with the vague understanding that said garments may or may not have originated in Ireland. I felt kind of guilty for lumping anything remotely Gaelic into a one-dimensional bartending theme, but then again, my heritage is Irish and Scottish, so at least my own ass was covered (so to speak).

Feeling Celtic, idk might Brexit later.

The evening was in full swing, with R-rated shenanigans beginning to sprout up all over, when John (our vice president) tracked me down on the patio and pulled me aside.

“There’s this guy who wants to buy all of our jello shots,” he said. “And I’m not sure what to tell him.”

So let me quickly explain the jello shots. Misfits bartending is fundraising more than anything else — we make jello shots and sell them for $2 apiece, and the money we collect goes towards putting on GLUE Weekend, which in turn brings in a giant wad of cash that we donate to our beneficiary. However, while selling all of our shots at once would result in a nice chunk of change, it would prevent us from making any tips for the rest of our shift, which would mean a financial hit that I wasn’t willing to take.

I headed over to the outside bar, where I found Keith engaged in a battle of raised eyebrows with the customer in question, who was dolled up in tailored jeans and high-end eyewear.

“What can I get you?” I asked.

“I want to buy all of your jello shots,” he replied.

“We have 48 shots left,” Keith murmured. “So it would be $96.”

“So what deal can I get?” the customer asked.

“Well, the shots are $2 each,” I said. “I’d be happy to sell them all to you, but I want to make sure everyone who’s interested gets a chance to have one first.”

“I’m saying I’ll by all of them.” he repeated unnecessarily. “You’re saying $2 each, but what deal can I get for the whole batch?”

“Um… this is for charity,” Keith said.

“I’m not going to cut a deal,” I said in my best attempt at an I’m-in-charge-and-you-should-probably-think-about-fearing-me voice. “And I’m not going to sell all of them at once. But I’ll sell you 20 now, and if you come back in 45 minutes, I’ll sell you whatever’s left.”

“So what deal can I get on 20 shots?” he asked.

“You can have 20 shots for $40 dollars,” I replied.

“So what will the discount be?”

“You’ll get 20 shots for $40.”

“So no discount?”

“No discount.”

“But I’m buying 20 shots.”

“Yes, for $40.”

I don’t know if he was trying to impress a date or show off for his friends or what, but I refused to budge, and after several more wearying rounds of 20/40, he relented and begrudgingly paid $40. And as soon as he did so, the members of ONYX Lone Star wandered over and were like, “Ooh, jello shots!” and bought every last one of them, at which time I swore fealty to their road captain.

Karmic retribution aside, the ONYX guys deserved a couple of drinks, since a straight girl had pounced on them earlier and all but demanded information about their organization. She was fascinated by their run pins, and she kept telling them how she was really, really into leather, and how she was a really, really big deal back in the Portland leather community, and I really, really wanted to ask her to explain the spiritual and historical significance of the faux-indigenous weaving on the back of her denim vest. But every time I opened my mouth, John would start singing Voices Carry at me, so I finally just gave up and accepted that ONYX could handle the situation without my help.

It is worth noting, though, that she neither bought a single jello shot nor complimented any of the Misfits on our kilts. I’m definitely adding stinginess and Hibernophobia to my list of reasons to keep quietly resenting her.

Author: Thumper (MJ)

Thumper Marjorie Forge is a Gardnerian High Priest, an initiate of the Minoan Brotherhood, a devout Discordian, a recovering alcoholic, and a notary public

One thought on “Erin… seriously, just go, bragh.”

  1. Your presumption concerning the origin of the kilt is correct. The kilt originated in the highlands of Scotland, though with the consistent cross-migration from one Island to the other and back again, more than clan lines were blended. The kilt actually became part of the Irish military uniform, and each of the counties developed a unique and recognizable ‘tartan.’
    There are few, today, who are ‘purely’ Irish or ‘purely’ Scottish, as clan wars and invasions caused large portions of the populations of each of the Islands to flee to the other and so, also, in the reverse. More accurate to say, rather than Irish-American or Scottish-American, simply Gaelic-American. Covers it nicely.
    I think you guys are quite attractive in your kilts. Regardless of the origin of the garment, you guys have claimed it and made it your own.

    Liked by 1 person

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