Brazilian Perv: A Brazilian ex-colleague who got himself fired by taking advantage of a drunken customer in the toilets, and for just generally being an unreliable perv.
Colgate: Local who very occasionally stops by for a drink, which, when he does, always is fun. He earns a living doing something with numbers I still don’t remember, which must mean he’s not a drug dealer from the criminal underworld like the other people from our street. It makes for a welcome change!
Crazy Chick/CC: Ex-bartender who started around the same time as me. She learnt about three cocktails in two months, and couldn’t have cared less (these things also tend to matter less when you’re sleeping with The Manager). She comes from a rich family and was only at the bar for a laugh. Eats, drinks, and snorts excessively, but great fun to be around. She’s still seeing The Manager (on/off), and will sometimes come in for a drink/to drag staff back to hers for debaucherous house parties.
Council Estate Boy/CEB: A male ex-colleague who often mentioned his deprived upbringing. He’s the most rock’n’roll guy I’ve ever met in every possible way, and looks like John Lennon reincarnated. Work was always hilarious when he was around.
Italian Sidekick: A skilled, Italian colleague who, apart from The Manager, is our best bartender. A nice, handsome chap.
The Manager: 36 year old guy who manages the bar. He is responsible for ordering stock, cleaning, and all the admin stuff which I know nothing about. He is the head bartender as well, but prefers to consume drinks rather than serve them. He’s a great guy who works far too many hours at the possible detriment of his sanity.
Mr. Perfect: Wonderful ex-flatmate.
New/Old Girl: An ex-colleague who was unceremoniously sacked for ripping off customers.
Noodles: Our resident drug dealer. An unattractive, balding, overweight convicted murderer who apparently also has AIDS. He’s a strange character, and will come to the bar on most days… Usually in pursuit of clients, but he’ll often stick around on his own for no apparent reason. You’d think he’d get lonely hanging around bars without company, but I suspect this isn’t the case, given the amount of time he dedicates to checking out his mirror image.
Owner #1: AKA ‘Good Cop’. One of our two owners. Generally comes in every Saturday night to surveil the place and drink Barcadi/coke with The Manager.
Owner #2: AKA ‘Bad Cop’. Owner #1’s brother-in-law and business partner. Everyone hates this dude.
Smarmy Windbag: Albanian colleague who’s something of a smug know-it-all. He usually means well, however, so his presence tends to be fairly innocuous. He seems a little lost in life, not unlike myself, and apparently, according to himself, has three degrees.
Squareface: Polish, female colleague of 18 years. I was initially dubious about her laconic character, but she’s really grown on me, and I quite enjoy her presence in the bar. She’s the kind of person you have to get to know, however, so she isn’t a firm favourite with our customers - many of which have complained about her.
The Stalker: Local bartender who often stops by. He always asks me out, I always say no. When asked by The Manager if he’s stalking me, he said ‘yes’.
Train Boy: An utterly crazy local who the police routinely warns bars not to let in. He recently got out of prison after doing a number of years for gun possession (according to the unreliable source that is himself). He’s a troubled, aimless 20-something-year-old who both cracks me up and scares me at the same time. The Manager and I call him Train Boy, because of a story he once told me: during his one and only visit to Denmark, his uncle encouraged Train Boy to jump out in front of a train to test his trust in him, as apparently train drivers stop the trains when people haul themselves onto the tracks in Denmark. If that ain’t a great role model …