Smile.
Never fold your arms behind the bar.
Free-pouring is way easier than it looks.
Holding two bottles in one hand is way harder than it looks.
Never, ever ask “Who’s next?” when you’re bartending.
Don’t wear heels to class. Or behind the bar.

(That last one is particularly challenging for me.)

Those are some of the first things you learn at the San Francisco School of Bartending (SFSOB for short), after you get over the initial, sheepish shock at realizing that no, of course you won’t be working with actual alcohol behind your station. If you did, you’d be pouring hundreds and hundreds of dollars down the drain on your first night, not to mention the fact that no self-respecting human being lets that kind of booze go to waste.

Back in August, SFSOB invited yours truly, along with two other Drink Me colleagues (all female, by the way!) to take their two-week course in bartending. We all jumped at the chance and couldn’t wait to get our feet wet, with or without high heels on. None of us had any prior bartending experience or planned to bartend professionally in the near future, but who wouldn’t want the opportunity to train in such a fun, economically resilient field that is truly universal and provides a socially handy skill? Exactly! Besides, learning behind-the-bar basics, mechanics and etiquette, I figured, can only make you a better connoisseur and consumer. It turns out that I was right! Also? Playing Practicing with the soda gun is totally as awesome as it sounds.

In order to bring the experience from the classroom into your living rooms (or wherever it is that you read this blog from), I’ve decided to write a daily diary of what it’s like to be in bartending school. This is the very first entry and I hope it provides some insight into what taking the course is like, but if you have any specific questions or are curious about one aspect or another, just ask! If I can’t answer you, someone from the school certainly will. Enjoy!

DAY 1 | Aside from the fact that you’re working with dyed water, basically, a few other misconceptions right themselves immediately; the students vary wildly in terms of demographics, it’s all ages (one kid is just a week away from becoming the legal drinking age, a few others look like they ditched a Caribbean retirement cruise for bartending school, which is awesome), there are hipsters and moms and frat guys and lesbians and art students and very shy, quiet types in attendance. Everyone is friendly and everyone’s a beginner, except the 2nd week students, who are over in their corner intimidating us with their fancy shaker moves and 84,000mph cocktail assemblage while reggae plays over the school’s speakers in the background.

The 1st week kids, including myself, attentively listen to the lecture and try not to twitch too hard in our haste to get behind the massive bar, which has barstools on one side and around a dozen training stations set up on the other, with the whole nine yards: a well right in front of you for house liquors, juices and mixers, an ice compartment (the ice is real, the garnishes are not), soda gun, shaker set, garnish tray and barmat, and behind you a shelf with liqueurs and all the usual suspects (top shelf gin, vodka, whiskey, tequila and rum), plus shelving housing all the different types of glassware. In the lecture, cleanliness is stressed while the instructor reviews a typical bar set-up and reveals what the letters on the soda gun stand for (Q = quinine = tonic water!), then sets us loose on the bar stations, where we practice a carefully measured free-pour ounce and start mixing our first rounds from laminated “menus”, which list about a dozen cocktails, their ingredients and instructions on how to make them. Strategically placed, mounted televisions auto-shuffle drink orders that we make as quickly and accurately as possible before the next round shows up.

By the end of the class, after an extensive clean-up that requires refilling of all bottles and returning your station to its impeccable state, I feel great, but realize what a hustle it is to stand there and mix non-stop. It’s not unlike a really long DJ set or working an event on your feet all day or night – you’re happy to go home and get some rest, but kind of can’t wait to get back to it again!