Sober

by rednec0

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 2052

What is a bartender to do when he is his own employee? Why hire other ponies of course!

His name is Walker Red. He is the resident owner of the only pub in Ponyville. Unfortunately with being short-staffed, as he is his own employee, he is desperately looking for help to not only provide hospitality for his customers, but to also keep things from ever getting out of hoof.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-28 22:05:07 UTC

Introductions are in Order

The mug in my hooves is almost clean as I look around from behind the bar. The various ponies present either having a conversation with another or nursing their drink, some even taking part in some of the small games that are set-up. Throwing the rag I was using back over my shoulder my horn glows with a simple levitation spell, placing the clean mug with the rest.

Why was I not using my magic to clean it to begin with you ask? It's quite simple really: it does not need to be used all the time for menial tasks. It's thanks to that belief that I'm a bit larger than most unicorns and can tangle with most earth ponies without having to rely on magic.

I suppose you want to know the rest of my physical description to get a better understanding. My fur is a carmine color and I sport a chestnut-colored goatee. Underneath the white apron I'm wearing for work I've got a long sleeve white shirt on and a sleeve-less vest on. As for my cutie-mark it's a stein.

What is a stein? Picture your average mug like you see when the Apples have their annual “Cider Season” (I really need to talk with them about having an “alternative” kind of cider served here). Now picture it with a lid on a hinge; that is what a stein kind of looks like. They are usually made out of metal to begin with and can come in many different designs, but enough about that.

My name is Walker Red, and I am the bartender and owner of “The Dry Trough”.

“Okay folks last call,” I holler after taking a quick look at the wall clock. It read half-past nine in the evening; which means I would be closing-up at ten. Ponyville may be a small town, but I don't like keeping ponies up super late, let alone hearing about stories of hangovers. Usually the customers do not ask for another, save for Berry Punch. In fact she is just passed-out on a table in the far corner, so no refill for her (looks like I will have to take her home, again).

Eventually one by one the ponies present began leaving, me wishing them goodnight as they exited. After about twenty-five minutes I sighed and walked over to where Berry remained passed-out. I knew no amount of prodding or speaking into her ears would get her to wake-up. Gently I lifted her onto my back and carried her out the door, the usual taxi pony waiting just outside.

“Same time tomorrow, Wally?” he asked me after I had deposited both Berry and the amount of bits I pay him.

“Yeah. I really need to cut her off much earlier in the nights,” I said. “Catch you tomorrow night.” After watching him go down the street with passed-out customer in tow I headed back inside. There were things that still needed to be done.

Grabbing a push cart I started collecting the bottles, glasses, and mugs that sat on the tables. Some tables had a basket or a few plates for snacks. The majority of them came from “Sugarcube Corner” as they were the only bakers who could make fresh pretzels. Of course many of their fine desserts made it onto the snack menu too; gotta have variety after all.

Wiping-up the last table I made it to the small kitchen where the only other two foods on the menu were made: popcorn and fries. I lamented for a bit, wishing I had an extra hand or two so I could expand the menu and serve hot carrots like they do up in Manehattan. It stinks being the only employee of your own establishment, especially for when I do inevitably get that one pony who needs the bum's rush. Shaking my head from these idle thoughts I load the two dishwashers: one for the bottles and the other for the other dishes.

In case you are wondering why I am washing bottles it is because I reuse them for my beer. I actually brew several varieties of ales, stouts, and lagers in the basement as well as wines. I have not perfected any of the stronger liquors yet so I have to rely on shipments from all over. What, you think my cutie-mark was just for running the bar?

After setting the machines to wash and tossing the rags and my apron into the hamper I made my rounds of putting-out the lights and making sure the door was locked. I use lanterns just for the purpose of setting the atmosphere here. It even compliments the mostly oak construction and furniture here. Fishing a key from my pocket I open another door next to the kitchen, leading upstairs to my living space. A quick glance at the clock up here read ten thirty-nine. Right on cue a yawn escaped from my mouth as I got ready for bed.

I woke-up at the crack of dawn, my eyes slowly adjusting to the sunlight peeking through my windows. Despite having about seven hours of sleep I still felt super-tired. Finally crawling out of bed I performed my usual morning routine: a quick shower, getting dressed, grabbing my food inventory list, and heading to “Sugarcube Corner” for breakfast.

Walking through the front door I was greeted with the cheerful voice of one Pinkie Pie, “Good morning Mr. Red! Will it be the usual?”

I could not help but smile, “Yes please, Pinkie. I also got the daily food order for you,” and I gave her the list of what I needed. If it was not the coffee that woke me up the rest of the way it was always her infectious happiness.

“Okie dokie lokie! It'll be out in a few!” and she hopped into the kitchen.

Taking a seat at one of the vacant tables I eye a newspaper with today's date on it. Settling on passing the time I pick it up, but before looking through any of the stories I turn to one section in particular: the classifieds. Quickly skimming through I finally happen upon my ad under “help wanted”, smiling to the fact that it finally got in the paper only after a couple of days.

“Oh Mr. Red, your cinnamon bun and coffee are ready!” I heard Pinkie call over to me. As I walked up to the counter she asked me, “On your tab?”

I smiled and nodded, “As usual, thank you again.” I then retreated back to my seat, plate between teeth and drink in levetation.

A Cold Employee

“You think just because you're getting the job means you can have whatever is behind the bar? No, NO, NO! GET OUT!” I yelled at my last potential employee as they stumbled out of the pub in pure fear.

My anger and frustration were really showing at this point. That was the ninth pony to come through the doors looking for a job, only to be abruptly chased-out by me because they were a lush looking for easy drinks. Spending a minute calming my nerves I make my way behind the bar and begin cleaning-up the spilled liquor. Early evening was approaching and I needed to open-up for the night. After finishing up I check the refrigerator and take a quick inventory. All of my various brews were fully stocked so that saved me an extra trip to the basement.

Closing the fridge I hear a knock at the door. A quick glance at the wall clock told me it could not be an early-bird as it was one hour before I needed to open. Supposing that one more applicant could not hurt I trot to the door and open it. Just outside stood a midnight-blue pegasus mare. Her mane and tail were like snow shining in the moonlight. Speaking of snow and moon, her cutie-mark was a crescent moon with a snowflake smack in the middle.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Yes, I'm looking for a job at this...” she paused briefly as she looked behind me. She slightly grimaced before forcing a smile, “...establishment.”

I could tell the traditional atmosphere I have set-up since the day I opened did not quite agree with her tastes. “Okay, come on in then. Do you have a resume by chance?” I asked her. Despite her impressions it was not that hard to figure out she was desperate for employment.

“Yes I do, but I would like to give it to the owner and not the bouncer if that's okay with you.”

I chuckle a bit and held-out my hoof, “You're speaking with him. My name is Walker Red.”

“Oh! I'm Arctic Midnight; just a sec.” She reached into her saddlebag, all the while I hear her mumble, “What is this pony? All brawn and no brains with a body like that? Maybe his horn doesn't work.” I did all I could to maintain a proper poker-face as she turned back to me with resume in teeth. “Here you go, sir.”

I take it in hoof. “Let's have a seat, Ms. Midnight. There's no sense in conducting an interview while standing,” I gestured to one of the many open tables.

We both took a seat, she pausing briefly before finally sitting down. I would have suspected she would be looking for crumbs, but this place is always clean before opening time. I begin looking over her resume, carefully reading details about her having gone to the Wonderbold Academy, staying in the reserves for five years, and doing some odd night jobs. I took special notice about being able to cause normal clouds to spontaneously create snow.

I finally break the brief silence, “Tell me about your time in the reserves.”

“Oh it was mostly some nighttime missions here and there. I loved it though it was rather boring at times.” I noticed she shifted in her seat a bit before continuing, “After Princess Luna's return her personal Night Guard took-over most of the patrols and missions. I had thought of joining her guard, but the requirements were a bit much for me.”

“Alright then, anything you want to talk about with your 'odd jobs'?”

“Mostly just working the overnight delivery routes because I could do them fast. I even worked as a guard for a bank for a while, but that was really boring.” Looks like she's been craving action for Celestia knows how long. Too bad she may not see much of it.

“I have one more question for you Ms. Midnight.” I looked at her like I was trying to imitate 'the stare' that I keep hearing about, “Why do you want to work at 'The Dry Trough'?”

She answered, “Well for a few reasons. One: it's a night time job; two: I get to put my speed and skill to the test; and three: it's close to my new home here.”

I blinked in surprise, “You moved here just today?”

“A few days ago actually.”

“Huh, odd...”

Arctic tilted her head in confusion, “How's that odd? Ponies move into new places looking for work all the time.”

"Ms. Midnight, usually when a new pony comes to Ponyville a certain pink pony tends to throw the newcomer a party. I'm surprised she hasn't seen you yet." Just then I see none other than Pinkie Pie looking through the window, “Speak of the devil.”

Arctic looked out the window, bewildered from the gasp she heard. “What's up with that mare's hair?”

I just laughed, “Well looks like you're getting that welcome party.”

“Not if my wings have anything to say about it,” she looked back to where Pinkie was just moments ago.

“Woah easy there,” I said trying to calm her down. “The party is probably gonna happen tonight so that means everypony will be there; thus making the pub empty for the evening. At least this way there's a reprieve from having to rush-train you.”

“We'll see...” she exhales a sigh. “I've only had nothing but bad experiences with, ugh, parties.”

I just shook my head, “I'm sure this'll be tons different from what you've experienced. Anyway, let me get you the paperwork to fill-out and go from there.”