The three lads were lined up at the bar counter in the usual fashion. JP in the middle flanked by Rasher and Mono. They were weathered looking and their shoulders were more hunched than was normal. Each of them looked intently at Donleavy with a serious stare. It was as if the ritual art of pint pulling had taken on an increased significance this evening. After what seemed like eons had passed, Donleavy placed three creamy pints in front of them. The last eddies were just beginning to come to rest when JP gave the nod. They couldn’t wait. The standard practise was to wait, not only until the separation of the pint was absolutely confirmed, but to admire this wonder of science for a period before imbibing. Today was different. Each of them attacked their drink with gusto and more than half the pint passed trembling Adam’s apples in an instant.
JP wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Set ‘em up again there, Donleavy, if ya please.”
Donleavy floated down behind the bar counter and began pulling again.
“Jayzus. I needed tha’. I’m like a withered plant.”
“Ya can whistle tha’. I’ve a throat on me that feels like the floor of a budgie’s cage.”
They settled on their stools for a bit and then killed the remainders of their pints. Usually pints were treated with supreme reverence but this evening was different. This was – ‘needs must’.
Rasher thanked Donleavy for the efficient substitution as the empty glasses were replaced by fresh incoming. The three amigos became more settled. Buttocks were metronomed until they found their sweet spot in these well worked bar stools. The world went back to its usual orbit.
“Jayzuz lads. This is turnin’ out to be some July.”
“Yeah – the weather babe was sayin’ the temperatures could break the all-time record.”
“I know we keep wishin’ for sunshine – but when it comes, we can’t handle it.”
“Too right.”
They went back to drinking their pints. In the way pints should be drank. With respect and reverence. They had long ago conquered the secrets and body language and subliminal messaging and silent communication and rapid responsiveness and neural mirroring that made them masters of synchronised pint drinking. If only this were an Olympic event – well why not? – pool divers and ice skaters get their synchronicity rewarded. And it didn’t matter who led – JP, Mono or Rasher – in fact you could spend all night watching them and try to distinguish who made the first move – and you’d come up short. In the end all that you would end up doing would be mesmerised as to how three sets of hands, arms and elbows reacted in unison. Equally you would be fascinated by how each pint glass would be depleted by exactly the same amount. If University measurement teams came with graduated cylinders to accurately measure the residue on each swallow – they would have to attest to the volume similarities to a few millilitres. This was prowess that only years of experience and understanding could deliver.
The boys were now well into their second pint. Soon one of them would have to signal for further incoming. Unwritten cardinal rule – never be left with an empty glass (except when you are ready to leave). Life is too unpredictable, and Donleavy could get distracted by any number of life’s vagaries (or an influx of new customers). Mono set the conversation into action again.
“When’s the hot weather goin’ settle down lads? Me system wasn’t designed for this.”
“The hot lookin’ weather babe said we’d be as hot as her for another week.”
“Jayzus!”
“Yeah. One of the boffins said this was all part of climate change and we’d have to suck it up and it’d get worse if we didn’t start behavin’ ourselves.
“Never mind us. We’re doin’ shoppin’ with our own bags and trying to stop the cows belchin’ and fartin’ and the bleedin’ Chinks, Yanks and Indians are pollutin’ the bejaysus out of the planet.”
“Yer right. And then they all turn on the Brazilians for not mindin’ the Amazon. Lungs of the world they call it. But it’s like smokin’ 60-a-day yerself and then lecturin’ someone else that they shouldn’t smoke.”
“Yeah – bleedin’ disgrace.”
By now the supply chain was temporarily saved. Fresh pints had arrived which allowed draining of Pint No.2. Once the supply chain pipeline was temporarily filled, everything was relaxed.
JP began to focus on the bottles behind the bar counter. Donleavy was a collector and there were rich sources of conversational inspiration in the various bottles from all over the world. Tonight – the heat and tiredness of the day had taken its toll and he stared at the bottles for what seemed like an eternity, but the dots didn’t join, and the neurons didn’t spark. Rasher took up the lead for the precious discourse on life’s flux.
“Wha’ ‘bout this inflation an’ recession lads?”
“Yeah. Shite – that’s wha’ it is.”
“Ya know wha’ they say – a recession is when your neighbour loses his job, a depression is when you lose yours.”
They had a bit of a guffaw on that one, but the kind of laugh where you’re not actually sure that it’s funny. JP became momentarily serious.
“Are we all right lads?”
“Wha’ ya mean?”, the reply came in stereo.
“D’ya think our jobs are secure?”
There was a momentary pause. Mono piped up.
“I’m sure we’re good. I’m sure we’ll be fine. We’ve already weathered at least two previous recessions.”
“Yeah – we’ll be grand.”
They settled down to their own thoughts again. The mood had definitely turned a tad more serious. They looked at each other in turn – each one urging the other to take them up a notch out of this sombre spiral. Rasher became a bit more animated.
“Bleedin’ Millenials and them Gen Z’s.”
JP looked at Mono. Mono looked at JP.
“Yeah. What about ‘em?”
Rasher got further into the flow.
“Ya know the way they want everythin’ their way?”
“Too right. Only work when they want to. Everythin’ has to fit around their plans.”
“Yeah – only willin’ to think about workin’ if there is nothin’ on their phones or if their nails are finished paintin’.”
“Yeah – they’d sicken ya.
“Had it too shaggin’ easy, I’d say.”
Rasher began waving his arms about like he was conducting an orchestra. The other two lads were perplexed. Raising of eyebrows. Again – JP looked at Mono. Mono looked at JP. This time it was JP who could wait no longer to understand where exactly Rasher was headed.
“Where you goin’ with all this?”
“It’s exactly what they need. Don’t ya see?”
Mono couldn’t take the confusion any longer.
“Who needs it? And what do they need? What are ya witherin’ on ‘bout?”
Rasher straightened himself up. As much as you can straighten yourself upon a barstool.
“The Gen Z’s. The bleedin’ Millennials. A recession. Its exactly what they need. It’ll be the makin’ of them. Nature’s way of givin’ them a toe up the hoop. It’s all part of the greater scheme of things.”
JP and Mono thought about this for a while. They exchanged looks that suggested the boy might be on to something here. JP patted Rasher on the shoulder.
“I believe you’ve nailed somethin’ here Rasher. I definitely do. Supreme analysis. Top drawer.”
Rasher beamed and if it was possible for his face to become more red – then it did. Praise from JP was always highly valued. Mono offered his conclusions.
“So bleedin’ good – what do ya say to me buyin’ ya a fresh cod and chips.”
“Brilliant idea.”
“We’re gone so. Give Donleavy the nod.”
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 