An open letter to the bartender who “served” me last night.
Dear Bartender, ( I use this term loosely),
I would like to draw your attention to the incident last night when polite company and manners prevented me from dressing you down publicly as would have befitted the occasion.
When I ordered a Mojito from you, I had a basic level of expectation as to what I was going to get. After all a Mojito is not a vague guideline, but a specific recipe.
I was not expecting a tall hurricane glass with three large ice cubes floating around the top, a withered piece of mint drowning in a solution of 90% cane rum, topped up with a splash of still water…
However, everyone can make a mistake and it’s not about the mistake, but how you handle it that will cement my impression of you. Alas, this opportunity was wasted on you when I asked for a replacement.
Telling me that you have done this for years and know how to make a Mojito did nothing to improve the flavor of the poor excuse for a cocktail I was trying to return to you and will certainly not endear yourself to me. Asking two other customers at the bar if their Mojitos were the yummiest they had ever tasted in a clear attempt at embarrassing me in front of my friends and your customers for returning your “masterpiece” makes you look foolish and even more incompetent.
While wisdom normally comes with age, clearly the years that have contributed to your greying hair were years spent avoiding education and skill. Here’s hoping the years between grey hair and white hair will be more educational.
Unfortunately I won’t be back to sample your skills whatever your hair color, because you had your chance and blew it. Big time.
4 customers who are going elsewhere tomorrow