It can be hard being a barmaid: Anna’s tale

She started working here recently as an akaunta. You somewhat developed a liking for her—like an older bro. She appealed to you as sociable, which wasn’t surprising, for she holds a Certificate in Social Work— going by what she told you.

“I hunted for a job that suits my training without success, so I accepted the offer when the mama who owns this bar offered me work as an akaunta,” the girl (call her Anna) tells you as you chat at the counter.

When you asked if she had worked in a bar before, she said no. She confided to you that her older sister is a girlfriend to the bar owner’s younger bro.

“This is my first bar job, I expect to learn gradually…imagine, I even have problems when it comes to the price of drinks!” she admitted.

There’s a time I witnessed her asking a barmaid what the price of Heineken was, and when she was told it’s Sh2,500, she remarked, “Oh, my! I thought it’s Sh1,500, just like Serengeti Lite… they look so much alike…”

Poor girl! It means patrons she has served directly at the counter had been taking, for only Sh4,500, a whole three bottles of the imported beer, a favourite of the moneyed guys, as well as ladies—irrespective of their cash status—bent at impressing some sponsor that they’re high class. Ahem!

When you visit the grocery days later, you find Anna busy, not at the counter, but in the drinking arena, serving drinkers. Someone else is handling the counter.

She notices you before any other barmaid; finds you a vacant table. You give her your order, including something for herself.

She’s soon back with your warm Castro Lite and a cold Serengeti Lite for herself. There aren’t many drinkers right now and this allows her to sit with you to chat. You ask her why she’s not at the counter.

“It’s a long story, but the thing is, I just couldn’t cope with the counter challenges,” she says. She’s just being economic with the whole truth—you silently conclude—which is that she has been fired from that sensitive post of akaunta.

“What happened? I thought you were a very capable akaunta,” you say (read lie).

“Thanks, but I incurred too many losses at the counter, then there were general losses which led to every worker’s pay being deducted to recover the lost items,” she says.

“What items?” you ask.

“Broken bottles and glasses, flat beer, broken chairs, stolen bottles and glasses… there’re daily checks and at the end of the month, the total loss is reached at, and everybody is made to share it,” she explains.

Her salary of Sh110,000, higher than that of most barmaids, was so eaten up by deductions that she went home with just Sh15,000!

“Oh, sorry,” is all you can say as you ask her to get you another beer.

“Should I get one for myself also?” she asks.

“Yes,” you say without putting any thought to it.