SHORT POURING IN BALTIMORE

            For example, last week in Baltimore I was unwinding at the bar in my hotel (yeah, that's right, my hotel!) when I saw the bartender pour some Tanqueray on top of a glass filled with what I presumed was tonic. A few minutes later he did the same thing with a Stoli Tonic and Bacardi orange juice. Predictably the guests didn't notice that the drinks were light. The wide disparity in how bars prepare drinks leads most people to make allowances for taste differences.

            Sure as rain, a few minutes later I watched the bartender pour another under-portioned Tanqueray and tonic, grab cash from the bar top and surreptitiously slip the five into his tip jar, safe in the knowledge that he had beaten the man.

            It's the classic short-pour scam. The illicit practice is often employed because it doesn't leave a dent on the bar's pour cost. The bartender short pours a few measures, thus creating a surplus of liquor. He or she then sells off the surplus and pockets the proceeds.

            Why the top pour? Spirits are lighter than mixers and juice and will float in high concentration near the top of the drink. Even if the guest gives the drink a cursory stir the first few sips will taste fine, perhaps even strong. Ironically enough, the act of top pouring is the scam's Achilles' heel. If a supervisor (or unwitting guest) observes the bartender making a highball in reverse order, the only plausible explanation is that the bartender is stealing. But since the manager was sipping coffee and doing paper work at a lounge table some thirty feet away from the bar, there was little chance of the theft being detected. That is, other than by me.

            While I've come to loathe bartender theft in all of its guises, short-pouring is especially despicable. It victimizes the guest, potentially tarnishes the bar's reputation as well as ripping off the house -- all this with a few flicks of the wrist.

            You might be interested to learn what I did next. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but I quickly grew quite peeved. Love me or hate me, I cleared my tab, left no tip and slithered over to where the bar manager was sitting.

            "I appreciate that you don't know me from Adam, but I want you to know that your bartender is stealing from the house. It really ticks me off and I won't be back. I just thought you should know." And with that I left.

            Yeah, I have a few pangs of remorse over it. I wasn't raised to be a snitch or rat fink. I'm also no caped crusader. Fellow bartenders, trust me, I couldn't help myself. The unimaginative fellow had it coming. Had the slacker manager been doing his job instead of paperwork I wouldn't have been in that position.

            The following night I stayed in my room and drank.