Cocktail Page #2

Why didn't you just tell me

it was a rum and Coke?

- Could I have what I ordered?

- A Bloody Mary.

- A white wine.

- Pink Squirrel!

- A Friar Tuck!

- A Ding-a-ling!

- A white wine!

- Pink Squirrel!

- Angel Tit!

- A Dirty Mother!

- Can I have what I ordered?

- All right!

All right! Now, what was it

that you ordered?

A martini!

What's in that?

You're supposed to get

ten percent from the waitresses.

I don't deserve it.

Hey, schmuck, do you get

money from girls every day?

Listen, I'm sorry

I called you a b*tch.

Why? I am a b*tch.

Got yourself a new disciple?

Good night, my beautiful.

Hey, frogman.

Anyone that can get money

out of her is a major talent.

Come back next Thursday.

I've got five shifts open.

- You're offering me a job?

- Uh-huh.

The waitresses hate me.

Well, you wait till

you've given them crabs.

Then you'll really know hatred.

Today I'd like to continue

our discussion of the demand

for money by focusing on...

the money multiplier.

You've got to add increases in currency,

deposits, reserves and bank credit

along the whole system.

Then what we have is a sum

of an infinite series.

Adding together the increases

in currency and deposits...

we find that they add up

to one plus CU over CU plus RE.

That, simply stated,

is the money multiplier.

Now, moving on.

The essential technique

of bartending:

Less is more.

The less you pour,

the more you score.

The boss does better,

we do better.

And the customer?

Think of the customer as a hurdler

thinks of a hurdle: a means to an end.

We dazzle him with ice work...

we baffle him with bottle work.

There are many ways

to fool a customer.

The short pour.

The long pour.

The ice mountain,

the spring thaw.

The speed-rack shuffle,

the hot shot.

You will learn them all.

Yes, Obi-Wan.

Both hands. Ladies, ladies,

come on, come on.

Okay, ready?

One, two, three, let go!

Yeah, what does it mean?

What does it mean? Nothing!

- Nothing?

- Nothing? All right!

Nothing?

Whoa!

- Very sophisticated, man!

- What a good jolt!

You got it going!

Come on, let's go with the drinks.

I'm making money tonight.

Let's make some money

for a change!

Ice!

- Catch!

- Thank you!

I guess that's what

you learn in college, right?

What buns! See?

Don't forget my beers, Bri!

- Missed me.

- Ha!

See, the name of the game

is "woman."

The little darlings

come in a-panting.

Their little hearts are pitter-patting

for the handsome, all-knowing bartender.

And in their wake,

a parade of slobbering geeks...

with one hand on their crotches

and the other hand on their wallets.

You get the women, you get the bucks.

And boy, oh, boy, you've got them.

Buttons were popping,

skirts were rising.

When you can see

the colour of their panties...

then you know

you've got talent.

Stick with me, son.

I'll make you a star.

Thanks, man,

but I gotta be honest.

This is just

a part-time gig for me.

I'm in a business programme,

City College, days.

Ah. A seeker of wisdom and truth.

You couldn't have found a better

work-study programme than right here.

- To a future leader of America.

- I'll stick with the brew.

Beer is for breakfast around here.

Drink or be gone.

I realize I've got a class

of budding capitalists here.

That most of you are seeking

the fast track...

lovely term...

to a career in investment banking

or some other socially useful pursuit.

Nevertheless,

certain antiquated skills...

such as reading and writing...

remain a part

of the curriculum.

So, for your first assignment...

I'd like you to write

your own obituaries.

Not that I wish you were dead.

At least not yet, anyway.

Brian Flanagan.

Senator Brian Flan...

Billionaire governor...

Brian Flanagan, whose self-propelled,

meteoric rise to wealth and fame...

would have made even

J.D. Rockefeller envious...

died early yesterday morning

at the age of 99...

while bedding his

18-year-old seventh wife, Heidi...

who is recovering from exhaustion

at the local hospital...

and will be unable

to attend the funeral.

For your midterm paper...

I want you to select a business

in which you are interested...

and to prepare a complete plan

for its development.

You should include

capitalization...

administrative costs...

income prospectus...

marketing...

cost analysis...

Blue shirt, fifth row, wake up!

Ah! Light dawns

on marble head.

Where was I?

Yeah! Whoo!

Can't get enough, you know

You're gonna have to face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

Might as well face it

You're addicted to love

I have got serious "f*** me" eyes

coming over here.

Stay in formation. Her old man's

coming in right behind her.

Finnegan, Finnegan.

Time, time.

Oh, sh*t.

- Brian.

- Huh?

- Bottle.

- Yeah.

- Brian.

- Yeah.

Try and make it by closing,

would you?

I'm doing the best I can!

Okay?

Sexual frustration.

I asked you to prepare

a business plan...

a seemingly simple assignment.

And yet one word

describes your papers:

bankrupt!

Bankrupt!

A word some of you will get

to know well in the future.

Like Mr Ron Lemaster.

Where is Ronnie Lemaster?

Yes...

our cosmetics magnate

who hopes to make his fortune...

selling make-up for pets!

Fetch, Ronnie, fetch.

Good boy.

And my own personal favourite,

Mrs Sheila Rivkin.

Oh, my God.

He's got my paper.

Mrs Rivkin has spent the last 20 years

burning her husband's dinners...

but now decides she wants

to become the Donald Trump...

of the cookie business... You!

You! You have

something to contribute?

I just said it wasn't worth

getting upset about.

- What's your name?

- Brian Flanagan.

Now speak up!

Let the class hear you.

- Brian Flanagan!

- Oh, yes, Flanagan.

Mr Flanagan.

Mr Brian Flanagan.

Let us see.

Yes, Mr Flanagan is determined...

to revolutionize

the bar business...

by franchising his version

of the local New York tavern...

to every suburban

shopping mall in America.

Tell me, Mr Flanagan...

do you intend to provide

the smell of stale beer?

Or perhaps a surly bartender...

and three boring drunks

to each outlet?

I don't know.

You looking for another job?

Ah. A diamond in the rough.

The dreamer who can't

take the criticism.

Not from a guy who hides here 'cause

he can't hack it in the real world.

Okay, Flanagan.

Let's see how well you hack it

in the real world...

with an "F" in this course.

"F!"

Not a goddam thing any one

of those professors says...

makes a difference

on the street.

If you know that,

you're ready to graduate.

Maybe I'm just too old

to be a student.

Christ.

I've got to find something...

something to do.

Relax.

You're in the perfect job.

There's no better way to make it

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