The Night the Gin Ran Dry (and We Didn't)
It was 9:15pm on a Friday, the kind of Friday where you can practically taste the weekend. The Badger & Barrel was buzzing, thick with the smell of rosemary potatoes and the sound of people actually enjoying themselves. Except behind the bar, where Liam, our new recruit of three weeks, looked like he was about to melt into a puddle of pure stress. We’d just discovered we were completely out of Hendrick's.
Hendrick's! On a Friday! In our gin-loving establishment? This was a genuine disaster.
Usually, I’d be glued to the kitchen, obsessively watching the chip fryer to make sure it didn't develop a mind of its own. But that night, I was playing diplomat with Mrs. Henderson, who was convinced her steak was mooing when it should have been contentedly dead (it wasn't, honestly).
Then Liam's panicked shout of "WE'RE OUT OF HENDRICK'S!" cut through the noise like a rusty saw. I peeled myself away from Mrs. Henderson (a promise of free dessert worked wonders) and rushed to the bar.
Liam was frozen. "I don't know what to do! People are ordering gin and tonics! What do I tell them?"
That's when Sarah, our longest-serving team member, the one who’d seen the Badger & Barrel through thick and thin for eight solid years, stepped up. No drama, no shouting. Just, "Okay, Liam, breathe. We've got other gins. Let's talk to the customers."
Sarah wasn't just a bartender; she was the Badger & Barrel. She knew every regular’s name, their usual poison, and often, their life story. She’d seen cocktail fads come and go, survived catastrophic Christmas parties, and even talked a distraught bloke out of proposing with a ring pop (don't ask).
What Actually Happened (and How Sarah Saved Us)
Sarah approached the first table, all bright smiles and genuine apologies. She explained the gin situation, admitted we'd messed up, and then she pulled a blinder. She offered them a tasting flight of our other premium gins – a Tanqueray 10, a local craft gin infused with elderflower (delicious!), and even that pricey bottle of Monkey 47 we usually saved for special occasions.
She talked them through the botanicals, highlighting the flavours. She turned a potential moan into a chance for discovery. She even let them choose their own garnish – cucumber, lime, grapefruit peel, juniper berries – making it more than just a G&T.
They lapped it up. Suddenly, they were getting something special, something unique. They ended up ordering a bottle of the local stuff and raving about Sarah’s knowledge. Crisis (sort of) averted.
Meanwhile, I was hammering the phones, trying to reach our suppliers. Just automated messages and closed offices. It was Friday night; everyone was already at the pub. I felt that familiar stomach-churning panic rising. We were going to be swamped all night, and we were missing a key ingredient.
Then I remembered Mark. Mark was our "community liaison," although his job title was just "server." He was always organising events, schmoozing with local breweries, and generally being the friendly face of the Badger & Barrel. He knew everyone.
I rang him, explained the gin emergency. "Mark, we're in deep! Any chance you know someone who might be able to help?"
He laughed. "Give me five minutes."
Five minutes later, my phone buzzed. "I've spoken to Dave at the 'Still & Spoke' distillery just outside of town. He's got a few cases of Hendrick's he can spare. He'll drop them off in half an hour."
I was gobsmacked. Mark had pulled a rabbit out of a hat. He’d used his connections, his genuine relationships, to fix a problem that felt impossible.
Dave arrived as promised, Hendrick’s in hand, and the evening was saved. The rest of the night went smoothly, thanks to Sarah’s quick thinking, Mark’s community spirit, and a whole lot of shared relief.
The Bit Nobody Talks About (Until Now)
What nobody mentions is the sheer, relentless pressure of running a place like this. It's not just about the food and drink; it's about the people. It's about managing expectations, dealing with the unpredictable, and constantly fighting fires.
It’s easy to get bogged down in the daily grind, the never-ending to-do list. You focus on the immediate problems – a broken dishwasher, a chef calling in sick, a nasty online review – and you forget the bigger picture. You lose sight of your long-term goals, your vision for the place, your commitment to a positive environment for your team.
And that’s when things fall apart. When you're constantly firefighting, you don't have time to invest in your team, to nurture their skills, to inspire them. You end up with burnt-out staff, mediocre service, and a venue that’s just going through the motions.
The truth is, the Hendrick's shortage wasn't just about running out of gin. It showed a bigger problem: poor communication, bad stock management, and a failure to trust our team to solve problems themselves. We were so focused on the little things that we'd forgotten the human element.
I'd also been trying to fix everything myself, which is unsustainable.
What I'd Do Differently (Hindsight is 20/20, Right?)
First, I'd get proper stock management software. A no-brainer, really. We were still using spreadsheets, which is just asking for trouble. A good system would track our inventory and even predict demand, helping us avoid future shortages.
Second, I'd create a better training programme for our staff. Not just on pouring pints, but on handling tricky customers and thinking on their feet. Sarah’s calm reaction wasn't just luck; it was experience. We need to give everyone those skills.
Third, I’d make sure my team understood our vision for the Badger & Barrel. We weren't just selling food and drink; we were building a community hub, a place where people could relax and feel valued. When everyone understands why we do what we do, they're more likely to care.
I'd also schedule regular team meetings, not just to discuss rotas, but to celebrate wins, share ideas, and build camaraderie. These wouldn't be lectures; they'd be a chance to collaborate.
Finally, I'd delegate more. I needed to trust my team to make decisions. Sarah and Mark had proven they were capable; I just needed to let them.
For Your Place
Look at the unsung heroes in your team. Who consistently goes the extra mile? Who always has a smile, even when it’s manic? These are your Sarahs and Marks. Recognise them, reward them, and let them shine.
Think about how you can build community. Are you working with local businesses? Hosting events? Engaging with customers on social media? The more connected you are, the more resilient you'll be.
And don't be afraid to ask for help. The hospitality industry is tough, but it’s also supportive. There are resources available, from industry groups to online forums to other owners who are willing to share their advice. Don't go it alone.
The night the gin ran dry taught me a lesson: the success of a place isn't just about the food and drink; it’s about the people. It’s about building a strong team, fostering community, and remembering your long-term vision. Oh, and maybe investing in decent stock management.
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