For those that don’t know, I photograph for an Orlando nightclub. Friday and Saturdays are hip hop nights. Sunday is Latin nights.
Bartenders of various ethnicities serve the patrons. Some are Hispanic. Some are white. Some are biracial. So far, only one is black.
One of these bartenders used to hand me (a black photographer) a bunch of shit. During a Latin night, she started it.
“Are you allowed to drink?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Next, she went and asked the other bartender. The other bartender told her I was allowed.
I allowed the incident to slide. I figured she just didn’t want to get into any trouble. No problem.
Yet, during a hip hop night, she did it again.
“Are you sure you’re allowed to drink?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said again.
She was the only one giving me shit about drinking. When it came to other bartenders, all I had to do was sign the receipt. As an “employee”, I receive discounts for my drinks. For over a year, not one bartender gave me shit. Yet, this one had done it twice.
Again, she asked the other bartender. Of course, the other bartender said I was allowed.
Earlier in this blog, I mentioned the various backgrounds of the bartenders. Out of all them, guess the race of the one who gave me the biggest shit. If you guessed white, you win the million dollar prize.
Now, I don’t believe all white people behave this way. One of the DJs is a cool white dude who is currently one of my Facebook friends. One night, that same DJ made sure the nightclub knew it was my birthday. He, another DJ and I drunk a shot that night.
Still, this white bartender personified some white people who crossed my path before. For some reason, some white people take it upon themselves to stick their noses in places where they don’t belong. Here’s a perfect example. One night, I was djing a local popular bar. At the end of the night, the white bartender took it upon himself to tell me what kind of music to play. I felt that wasn’t his place. His job was selling booze. But oh no, he’s going to tell me what kind of music to play in the future.
After that incident, I had a talk with the owner. He said I could play any music I wanted.
About two years later, the cocksucker bartender got fired.
Also, speaking of fired bartenders, two reliable sources told me the current pain-in-the-ass was shown the door. I never got the full details. Still, instead of fucking with me, the bartender should have been worrying about herself.
To answer her question again? Yes, god damn it, the nightclub photographer can drink.
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/50799332@N06/25624011084″></a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>