“I want my clothes back.” Both Michael and Dan looked up to see Oliver, who just came back from changing his outfit. He wore black jeans and a white buttoned up shirt like the rest of the employees, accompanied by a long black tie, which hang loosely around his neck. It was a bit too big for him, but it was the best the bartender could find in such a short time. Oliver looked anything but pleased. “I can’t show myself in this, it doesn’t suit me at all.”

‘Nonsense.’ Said Michael, walking up to Oliver and adjusting his tie. ‘You look great.’ The bartender looked at his watch, the clock hand almost touching the three. ‘And look at your timing. You are lucky it won’t be that busy now, so I still have time to teach you some things. So, first thing, let's give you a little tour.’ The brunet walked to the middle of the establishment, standing in between the chairs and tables. Oliver followed him, standing next to him and just in time dodging the hand movement the bartender used to point at the whole room.

“This is the front of the bar. The chairs and tables, the bar, the place where the people eat and drink.” Michael points at himself. “And where the bartender works.” Oliver nodded, looking around. “I know, I know. I have already worked in a restaurant. I know what the front is.’ Michael rolled with his eyes. Of course the brat knows.

And although Oliver sounded as stubborn and frustrating to Michael, he was actually quite impressed. Oliver never stood in the middle of the bar when it was empty, and suddenly he felt even smaller than he already did. The place was huge, and Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if the room could fit at least a hundred people. One thing was certain. He sure didn’t hope those hundred people come by tonight.

Michael walked through the door of the kitchen, Oliver following him as his loyal dog. The sweet smell of herbs and spices were welcoming and soothing, and Dan stood at the furnace, already preparing things for later that day. Oliver had no idea what he was making, but it sure smelled nice, and Dan looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. With a loud cough Michael got Oliver’s attention again.

“This is the back of the bar, the kitchen. This is where the chefs and other staff works, and of course, our head chef.” Even though Dan was still busy with the kitchen utensils he could be seen smiling, overhearing the conversation. Oliver thought for a second, looking over at Michael again. “So if Dan works here, and you work in the front, where do I work?”

Michael leaned against the kitchen counter, raising a brow. ‘You...applied for a certain job right?” Oliver nodded, still kind of distracted by the head chef's cooking skills. ‘I thought it was buser? But what do I do? That’s in the kitchen, right?’ The bartender sighed deeply. The brat doesn’t even know what job he applied for. Great.

The brunet shook his head and sighed. ‘Let’s just assume it is busser. Follow me.’ The two left Dan busy with the preparation and headed to the front. Michael disappeared behind the bar for a second, only to return with cleaning supplies, pressing a few in Oliver’s hands. The redhead held the cleaning cloth before him, looking at it like it was some unknown and odd artifact.

“Your main job as busser is mostly cleaning and helping the others out if things get too busy. So cleaning tables, taking plates and utensils to the kitchen, taking simple orders, stuff like that. It isn’t that difficult, but you got to get the hang of it. So let’s just begin with the cleaning and bringing stuff to the kitchen.” The bartender watched his co-worker look at all the cleaning supplies confused, as if he never had any of them in his hands. Michael wouldn’t be surprised anymore if that really was the case.

“So...I just clean stuff?” Oliver asked, his look at the cleaning cloth one of distaste now. Michael frowned. “What? Is something wrong with that?” Michael could see Oliver struggle with his words, but the words he spoke didn’t sounded like he even thought about it. “I just don’t like it.” Michael let his body rest against his bar, his posure as relaxed as always. “Work isn’t really supposed to ‘be liked’ kid,” he said with a chuckle, “Next time, Google the work you apply for. Maybe then you will apply for work you like.”

Before Oliver could even think of something to say against the sarcastic comment Michael walked to the cabinet, opening it to reveal more supplies and glasses. “I think it is best if I show you where you can find everything first. You can’t walk through the bar with all those at once.” Oliver nodded, looking down at the cleaning supplies he still pressed tightly against his chest.

After Michael showed him where to find everything and told him his tasks once more the first customers appeared. Oliver did as he was told, cleaning the tables and helping collect the glasses, stacking them on the side of the bar and almost dropping another stack doing so. It took him some time to get the hang of it, but when he did there was no challenge anymore. There were not a lot of customers yet, and most of the time the busser just stood there, preying on the glasses the people still held in their hands. Another table, another glass, another table, another glass. Time was going as slow as it could possibly go.

While the bartender was busy doing various things all Oliver did where those two tasks. The work was easy and boring, and the bartender watched his co-worker play with some of the glasses he collected on the bar besides him on one of the bar stools. He walked up to him, a beer in one hand and a bottle opener in the other. “Come on Oliver, you gotta keep moving.”

Oliver sat down on one of the bar stools. “But this is boring! Can’t I help you with work behind the bar?” Michael chuckled and shook his head, opening the beer he had in his hand and giving it to the customer. “Oliver. You are working for an hour, and it isn’t even busy yet. You shouldn’t overwork yourself on hours like these. It is important that you keep everything neat and tidy now, so that when more people come in you have enough time on your hands.”

Oliver agreed with what the bartender said, but not enough to stop complaining. “I know, but I really did everything I can! Isn’t there anything else I could do instead of cleaning?” Michael thought, leaning on the bar next to the customer he just gave her drink. The woman blushed a bit, having the bartender so close to her. “Well, there is one thing,” Michael said, his smile widening. “Since you know everything, why don’t you try being bartender.” Oliver almost shined with excitement, a sparkle in his eyes. “Really?”

“Really. Do you know what to do?” Oliver almost jumped from excitement, nodding enthusiastic. Michael looked at the brat with a grin on his face. This won’t take long.

The two swapped places, Michael now sitting next to the woman and Oliver standing before the various bottles of liquor. The woman looked at the little show, seeing the brat stand there, having no clue what to do and Michael, knowing exactly what would happen. The busser looked at his tutor, his expression nervous. “So, what do I do now?” Michael shrugged, winking at the woman while doing so. “I have no idea, you said you know what to do right?” Oliver began sweating. “O-of course I know!” Oliver stuttered. Michael grinned. “Well, then you don’t need my help. Good luck!” Michael stood up, picking up the cleaning cloth. “I better get to work.” This would teach him a lesson.

“Wait Michael!” Oliver watched his co-worker walk away from the bar, all the eyes of the people sitting around him now looking at the new bartender. This was a bad idea.

And it turned out it truly was. After about twenty minutes Michael walked up to the bar again. In this short time he had cleaned everything from top to bottom, and everything was neat and tidy. It was quite the opposite of the bar. The stacks of glasses on the side grew way too high and Oliver sprinted from customer to customer, looking confused and lost with all the tasks he needed to do at once. Michael sat down next to the female customer from earlier. “So, Oliver,” Oliver turned around, a thin layer of sweat covering his face. “How is the bartender work going?”

“Everything is going fine,” Oliver said, trying to open a beer with a bottle opener, failing time after time. “Couldn’t go any better.” The redhead looked even paler like he normally was, only his cheeks stained with a bright red. “Don’t lie.” Oliver looked to the ground dissapointed. Michael suddenly began to feel sorry for the brat, seeing the glares of the customers and how even though he truly did his best he couldn’t even keep up which such a small amount of customers. The bartender walked behind the bar towards Oliver, shoving him on one of the stools and taking back his place back as bartender. First he helped everyone who still waited on their order, and then returned to Oliver. “Let me guess,” Oliver pouted. “You are going to say you were right and tell me to get back to cleaning.”

“You are right, I was going to tell you,” Michael said, “But you look exhausted.” The bartender poured him a glass of Coca Cola, sliding it towards him over the bar. “Here, drink this. I don’t want to be responsible for a fainted coworker.” Oliver drank the soda like he didn’t drank in days, becoming somewhat less pale and somewhat more cheerful as before. In the meantime the real bartender worked on full speed, getting everything tidy and neat again. When he saw the finished glass on the bar he returned to his student once more, a full grin on his face. “So, now you have finished your drink...I was right, and you should go back to cleaning.” Michael was smiling from ear to ear. “I hope this taught you a lesson.”

“Actually, it did!” Oliver said, his enthusiasm back. “I have learned that working as a bartender is not that easy as I thought.” Michael nodded, a smile forming on his face. “I am glad you learned th- But I also learned,” Oliver interrupted him, “-that if I ever work to slow you will help me out, and I get a drink and can sit down! And not only that, but that you help me with the cleaning as well so that I have to do nothing!” Oliver crossed his arms. “Now who learned a lesson?” Michael’s mouth fell open, seeing the brat pick up the cleaning cloth again and going back to his previous work, having completely outsmarted the bartender. The woman from earlier chuckled, having followed the conversation. She leaned in and whispered. “Guess he did know what to do.”

‘Note to self’ Michael thought, staring past the liquor bottles and the woman to Oliver. ‘Never feel sorry for the brat ever again.’