If you’re still in college and getting your first teaching gig, consider this an introductory guide. If you’ve been teaching for a while, look at this like a refresher workshop – if only I could give you certification or snow hours!
Whichever way you look at it, these are only “tips”. When I say “tip”, think tip as in “tip of the iceberg”. Happy hours at your local grogshop can be just as catastrophic as happy hour on the Titanic. Be mindful, know your surroundings, and plan how you are going to get out quickly if there is a fire. Come to the understanding that how you handle your next happy hour may have a significant impact on ever enjoying another one.
Now, in no specific order . . . . .
Don't get drunk. It seems obvious but that's the first one right there. When they tell you on Monday how funny you were, you don’t want to have to ask “Ha-ha funny or I-need-to-call-a-lawyer funny?”.
Buy your boss a drink. Say, “Hey, boss, what are you drinking today?”, order it, and buy them a bottle of it for a holiday gift down the road.
Buy your school secretary as many drinks as she wants. Throw in a fillet. Every secretary I ever worked with NEVER earned their true worth and value to the school. They were always making my life better, greasing the wheels when I needed them greased, and always giving me a heads-up on things crucial to my success in the school.
You can’t do enough for your school secretary.
Get separate checks. Trust me, I'm going to get a fillet whether you're on my tab or not. Some old geezers pull this fast one over young employees: “Let’s put it all on one tab and then just divi it up. I’m only getting a bottle of water and some Ritz crackers.” You agree and then notice that he has ordered lobster thermidor and a bottle of Grey Goose. You don't want any portion of that guy’s meal coming out of your wallet. Separate checks.
Tip liberally. Chances are, you're going to be going back to this watering hole with your crew on another Friday. Make friends with the bartenders and table service.
Tip directly. Don't leave it on the table or on a high top. Put it in their hands. And smile. And say thanks.
Run a tab. Don't be that person who is paying each drink individually and making your server constantly break a ten or a twenty. That's like buying chicken nuggets one at a time. Don't be that guy. Give the server your credit card with your first order, let them run it, and then run a tab. Don't worry. They'll give the card back to you, primarily because they want you to come back next Friday and you’ll need it to spend more money.
Don't ask how much the drinks cost. Happy hour is like taking your family on a two-week Disney cruise: you don’t do it to save money. If you have to ask how much a beer or a gin and tonic costs, you don't belong at a bar. You belong at the McDonald's drive-through where the prices are prominently displayed. For that matter, anyone who has to ask how much a bottle of Macallan 18 costs doesn't need to be drinking that either.
Careful who you go home with. As the drummer in our band, Bob Brown, used to say straight-faced after troubleshooting a problem with our PA, “It always comes down to a bad screw”. Marty and I would look at each other and just shake our heads. The man's wisdom puts Kahlil Gibran to shame.
Don't shut the place down. Leave after an hour or two. Don't turn happy hour into a second career.
Buy a round for your friends. Squares don’t buy rounds.
If you don't have enough money to buy a round for your friends, you don't belong in a bar. Go home.
Do karaoke at your own peril. Remember: YouTube in the wrong hands can mean “Forever”.
Act your age. Yeah, I know your inner child has a fake I.D. Nobody is buying your act.
Whichever way you look at it, these are only “tips”. When I say “tip”, think tip as in “tip of the iceberg”. Happy hours at your local grogshop can be just as catastrophic as happy hour on the Titanic. Be mindful, know your surroundings, and plan how you are going to get out quickly if there is a fire. Come to the understanding that how you handle your next happy hour may have a significant impact on ever enjoying another one.
Now, in no specific order . . . . .
Don't get drunk. It seems obvious but that's the first one right there. When they tell you on Monday how funny you were, you don’t want to have to ask “Ha-ha funny or I-need-to-call-a-lawyer funny?”.
Buy your boss a drink. Say, “Hey, boss, what are you drinking today?”, order it, and buy them a bottle of it for a holiday gift down the road.
Buy your school secretary as many drinks as she wants. Throw in a fillet. Every secretary I ever worked with NEVER earned their true worth and value to the school. They were always making my life better, greasing the wheels when I needed them greased, and always giving me a heads-up on things crucial to my success in the school.
You can’t do enough for your school secretary.
Get separate checks. Trust me, I'm going to get a fillet whether you're on my tab or not. Some old geezers pull this fast one over young employees: “Let’s put it all on one tab and then just divi it up. I’m only getting a bottle of water and some Ritz crackers.” You agree and then notice that he has ordered lobster thermidor and a bottle of Grey Goose. You don't want any portion of that guy’s meal coming out of your wallet. Separate checks.
Tip liberally. Chances are, you're going to be going back to this watering hole with your crew on another Friday. Make friends with the bartenders and table service.
Tip directly. Don't leave it on the table or on a high top. Put it in their hands. And smile. And say thanks.
Run a tab. Don't be that person who is paying each drink individually and making your server constantly break a ten or a twenty. That's like buying chicken nuggets one at a time. Don't be that guy. Give the server your credit card with your first order, let them run it, and then run a tab. Don't worry. They'll give the card back to you, primarily because they want you to come back next Friday and you’ll need it to spend more money.
Don't ask how much the drinks cost. Happy hour is like taking your family on a two-week Disney cruise: you don’t do it to save money. If you have to ask how much a beer or a gin and tonic costs, you don't belong at a bar. You belong at the McDonald's drive-through where the prices are prominently displayed. For that matter, anyone who has to ask how much a bottle of Macallan 18 costs doesn't need to be drinking that either.
Careful who you go home with. As the drummer in our band, Bob Brown, used to say straight-faced after troubleshooting a problem with our PA, “It always comes down to a bad screw”. Marty and I would look at each other and just shake our heads. The man's wisdom puts Kahlil Gibran to shame.
Don't shut the place down. Leave after an hour or two. Don't turn happy hour into a second career.
Buy a round for your friends. Squares don’t buy rounds.
If you don't have enough money to buy a round for your friends, you don't belong in a bar. Go home.
Do karaoke at your own peril. Remember: YouTube in the wrong hands can mean “Forever”.
Act your age. Yeah, I know your inner child has a fake I.D. Nobody is buying your act.
Offer your stool with someone who’s been standing for a while. It's comical to see teachers hurl themselves onto bar stools and stay there for hours, assuming the pose of Jabba the Hutt. Get up, walk around, schmooze, and share your chair with someone who's been standing.
Keep your voice down. Read the room. Who's loud and who isn't. Make sure your voice isn't the loudest.
Don’t talk about students. If you must talk about students, do it at a PLC meeting, not at a public bar. When happy hours started getting noisy, too animated, and people were talking about kids, it became a total buzzkill for me because I knew I couldn't stay and risk possible guilt by association.
You'll have some grizzled veterans who will say “If you only use their first name it's okay”.
No it isn't.
You don't talk trash about kids in public. There are specific legal liabilities in the event that you talk about a student, especially out of school, and it's reported.
There was a rather infamous case in our state of a school Christmas party held at the house of a teacher. People were getting their yule drink on and the punch was running faster than Santa’s nose.
A paraprofessional was telling a story about a student in another school district. She used no names thinking no one would have any idea who she was talking about.
Wrong. There was a spouse of a faculty member who overheard the story who was able to figure out the student she was talking about and it was a child of personal friend. That spouse told the parents. Long story short: they settled out of court with the school district for six figures.
If people insist on talking about kids at happy hour, just look at your watch and say you need to be somewhere and head out. And think about it this way. Would you want a bunch of drinking teachers talking about your kid in public? Probably not.
Hope that helps.
And if you see me show up at your next happy hour, you can order me that Macallan 18.
Neat.
Keep your voice down. Read the room. Who's loud and who isn't. Make sure your voice isn't the loudest.
Don’t talk about students. If you must talk about students, do it at a PLC meeting, not at a public bar. When happy hours started getting noisy, too animated, and people were talking about kids, it became a total buzzkill for me because I knew I couldn't stay and risk possible guilt by association.
You'll have some grizzled veterans who will say “If you only use their first name it's okay”.
No it isn't.
You don't talk trash about kids in public. There are specific legal liabilities in the event that you talk about a student, especially out of school, and it's reported.
There was a rather infamous case in our state of a school Christmas party held at the house of a teacher. People were getting their yule drink on and the punch was running faster than Santa’s nose.
A paraprofessional was telling a story about a student in another school district. She used no names thinking no one would have any idea who she was talking about.
Wrong. There was a spouse of a faculty member who overheard the story who was able to figure out the student she was talking about and it was a child of personal friend. That spouse told the parents. Long story short: they settled out of court with the school district for six figures.
If people insist on talking about kids at happy hour, just look at your watch and say you need to be somewhere and head out. And think about it this way. Would you want a bunch of drinking teachers talking about your kid in public? Probably not.
Hope that helps.
And if you see me show up at your next happy hour, you can order me that Macallan 18.
Neat.
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