What it’s like working behind the bar at the Big Cheese – you guys should be so grateful

The Big Cheese, Le Grand Fromage, the home away from home for so many of us. It’s the Mecca for Edi students who love long queues, seeing that person you pulled from your tutorial and general VK fuelled debauchery.

We all have our opinions, some love it, some really love it, and a small minority who can only just about defend their humanity, avoid it like the plague.

But have any of you really considered what its like from the other side?

Those people wearing bright teal, lighting the way towards the VK fridges and endless snakebites like so many airport runways.

How do they feel, do they enjoy your drunken presence when you  flail yourself over the bar asking for ‘A VK mate, any flavour, surprise me yeah?’ There are only four just choose one please.

Looking through the gates of heaven

We, the EUSA staff, who get torn to shreds in memes and annoyed posts about queue lengths and the ever rising price of VKs, should actually be revered as the bringers of happiness we really are.

The night starts at 20:00, when the early starters get the VKs out, the blackcurrant out for the rugby boys’ endless snakebites and make sure we have enough straws for those living dangerously enough to try and strawpedo the odd VK without being caught.

Then the first few of you guys trickle in, a few people having a swift one after getting in the queue early, others settling in for a long night of Steps and Vodka Sodas.

We made you this happy

Still early days, nice and relaxed, we even dance to the music, enjoy ourselves, eat the sweets we hide in the back to prepare for the inevitable nightmare to come.

The nightmare that is the the 11pm rush

Its 10:55 and after queuing early you’re all back in the warm enjoying pre’s, when someone shouts that you have five minutes to get to Potterrow with your stamp or face the dreaded queue again. Downing whatever cheap wine you chose for the occasion you all run, en-masse, from every corner of Edinburgh. Taxis screech to a halt outside Boteco, but you’ve made it. Now its time for the bar, and for our weekly HELL to begin.

Ooo look they have tropical, lets get 25, they’ll love that

The bars will be five deep for the next three hours. Hands will wave in the air, people will shout for their friends working to serve them first, some will weasel their way to the front, some will just push, others will try the god awful tactic of waving their money over the bar (warning – I will take it and keep it as a tip next time).

People will shout, scream and spill sticky drinks all over our precious bar. We see it all, we see you draped over the bar pulling the guy you met five minutes ago and who wooed you with the sweet words of ‘what flavour VK do you want?’. We see you fall over, we see your embarrassing dance moves, we see into your very soul, and we do all of this sober, we remember it all, every cringe-worthy moment that you’ll presumably forget.

We’re always watching….

Some of us may be moody, or serve someone else before you, or inform you that unfortunately as you can barely stand and can only see over the bar because you’re propped up on the many many VKs you drank already, that you’re too pissed to have anymore. But at the end of it all we facilitate all of your drunken stories, your best nights ever, your worst nights, the awkward pulls and the blossoming romances.

But do we get any appreciation for going through this hell week after week? Not a chance.

Around 2:30am, after our personal three hour hell, we get a little rest, the punters trickle in a few at a time. Giving us the chance to sing and dance around the bar like its our own personal dance floor. We’ll regale each other with stories of all of you drunken customers, our bests and worsts, the ones we saw fall over, the ones we had to get removed, the ones who tried to flirt for free drinks (we don’t get them so don’t think you will), the groups who invoked our silent wrath by ordering 15 snakebites for the boys (we hate making them please stop just get a VK tropical instead).

The nectar of the rugby gods

And then its over, you all go home and leave us with the aftermath, the aforementioned de-brie.

Other than VK bottles everywhere its amazing the things you find afterwards (we found a bra a couple weeks ago), but unfortunately we are yet to find the dignity so many of you lose every week. But we’ve given you the weekly night of joy and debauchery that you crave so much, you go home happy and we go home tired and covered in snakebite and tropical VKs.

So basically don’t be annoyed that on one of our rare nights off we WILL get served first and we will take longer at the bar chatting to our pals working, just remember that last week we made your night like the guardian angels we are.

And lets not forget about the VKs, you might complain about the £2.80  price tag but we could charge you £20 per sip and you would all still queue up for 20 minutes just to taste the sugary delights of the favoured Orange and Passionfruit.

Until next week

xoxo