“Well, Samuel.”Her inflection of my first name was thick.
“Don’t call me that.”
“I don’t know what you think you know about bars in this area, but we didn’t get a name for ourselves by aiming for tik-tokers and,” she shivered, “zennials.”
“And why is that?”
“What?”
“Why shouldn’t I be aiming for them?Research shows—”
“For fuck’s sake,” she interrupted.
“That they are the fastest-growing market in the US, and their spend rate has doubled since last year.”
“Do you know why?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”
“Because they go out to get wasted.And yeah, they might end up spending a bit of money in a single night, but only after downing drink after drink of cheap watered-down swill.Most of them aren’t coming in for a cocktail unless it has a dirty name.We’re about craftsmanship.Flavour.Inventiveness.”
“No.That’s what you are about.This bar is about making money.”
“I’m not going to let you change my menu.”
“You don’t have to ‘let’ me.I’m the owner.”
“And I’m the bartender.Best one around.”
“Need you remind me.”This wasn’t the first time she’d referenced her awards, but it had also happened far less than I’d been expecting, and she’d only ever mentioned it when I pulled the “owner” card.Less like a brag and more a shield.A proof of worth.I put that thought away for later.
Sighing, I changed tack.“What do you know about sours?”
“I know no one makes them anymore.”Her pout was distracting.
We locked eyes, then understanding dawned.She blinked slowly, heaving out a deep sigh.“I’m going to hate this idea, aren’t I?”
A small smile spread before I could stop it.“In my short experience, I’ll wager yes.”I shouldn’t be enjoying myself as much as I was.“But you don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, sir.”It was delivered in a petulant tone, but I’d be damned if hearing the term from her lips didn’t stir up some undeniable urge within me.Something that was immediately buried because Tiffany was both an employee and, if bar gossip was to be believed, already in a serious relationship.It wouldn’t do me any good to harbor any sort of attraction to her.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.“You actually like sours.”
“I think they’re understated.”
“God, that just explains so much about you.”
“Regardless.My point is that there might be drinks we personally believe would be better served, but that won’t do us any good if people aren’t buying them.We need to appeal to the right people, and right now, that includes college students and new adults.”
“God help us all.Two dollar shots and Jägerbombs for everyone.”
And while I shuddered at the thought, I didn’t let it show.Tiffany would likely never let me live it down.For all her bluster, she couldn’t convince me that this was a bad decision.The Basement had previously survived by the talent at her fingertips, but considering how frequently she came up with new ideas and how unfazed she was by mistakes, I had to wonder if it hadn’t been a mix of talent and luck that had gotten her this far in life.
This bar would continue to be successful, but it would not be one because I made decisions in the heat of the moment.That was no way to run a business.Trends, analytics, data.That’s how it worked.Smart, planned business decisions.
“I’m going to be making the changes anyway, and you can be involved or not.It’s your choice.”
None of her fight left her, her entire body taut like a stretched elastic, but she relented.“Fine,” she finally said through gritted teeth.“It’s your bar.”
“So glad we agree.”
