Home » Bartending News » Damon’s Very Special Good Job Awards: A Satire Article By Damon Fabbo
As we enter the heart of the summer, days get longer and shifts get hotter. It’s around this time that awards are given out to various leaders and icons of our beloved industry.
Some awards are for the best bartender. Some are for the best bar team!
But I don’t think the right people are being honored.
There are much more important awards to be given out to some much less self-important people.
Speaking of self-important, here are some awards I like to call Damon’s Very Special Good Job Awards.
There are a few quality-of-life factors that really matter in a good bar job. Sure, decent money, manageable hours, and coworkers who aren’t full-blown sociopaths are nice. But what really matters? Family meal.
If your kitchen is serving something that looks like cat food and calling it ceviche, you don’t work at a bar—you work in a gulag. This award goes to the kitchen team that consistently delivers actual nourishment, not just that one time they gave us Wagyu scraps we devoured like plague rats.
A real family meal program means zero risk of pooping your pants mid-shake. Or at least, near-zero risk.
Good job.
Every bartender has a story about sending a barback for ice, limes, or—let’s be honest—emergency cigarettes. And somehow, they vanish into the ether for what feels like half a shift. (It was six minutes. But still.)
This award goes to the barback who doesn’t disappear. The one who hustles, sprints, and plows through the crowd like a Fernet-fueled linebacker—before the guest even notices you’re out of oranges.
We salute the Fastest Barback. We praise you. But we do not promote you to bartender. You’re simply too irreplaceable.
Good job.
Sure, you could’ve just made the drink. But no—you had to twirl the shaker, flip the bottle, and dramatically launch the ice into the air like you’re auditioning for Cocktail 2: Cocktailier.
This award goes to the bartender who consistently prioritizes flash over speed, style over efficiency, and performance over people getting their goddamn drinks.
Take your time accepting this award. We know you love the spotlight. Your trophy will be made of cement—since you insist on flipping everything.
Good job.
We get it. You go to a lot of brand events. Because you were never invited to parties before.
This award honors the bartender whose apron has officially become branded chainmail—a shimmering wall of enamel pins, tiny logos, and commemorative nonsense from every pop-up, tasting, and sponsored pool party since 2017.
Congratulations. You are protected from shame, sincerity, and possibly light crossbow fire.
Good job.
“Can I have a strong mocktail?”
“Sweet, but not too sweet.”
“Can you just make something… with vibes?”
“Can you recreate this drink I had one time at this one place? I think it was called Euthanasia?”
You said yes. You smiled. You didn’t let your lip quiver with disdain.
And for that—we honor you.
Good job.
Congratulations! And… yikes.
This award honors the bartender whose consumption levels would concern even Mr. Fernet himself. If there were a Mr. Fernet, he’d be staging an intervention.
Please accept this award—and stop showing us your Fernet coin.
Good job.
You “just stepped out for a quick cig.” And somehow… 30 minutes passed.
Your coworkers are drowning. The POS is frozen. There’s a line out the door. But hey—you have an addiction and they don’t, so obviously, you deserve that break.
This award goes to the teammate who is technically still on the clock, but emotionally somewhere in the parking lot, staring into the void.
Good job.
To the most tired bartender.
May your eyes one day close in peace.
Good job.
Given to the bartender whose therapist is a cold metal keg.
You said you were “just checking par,” but we all heard the sniffles.
And you know what? It really works. The walk-in sees all. Judges nothing. Keeps your secrets safe—and your beer cold.
Good job.
Given to the bartender who has just been waiting for a guest to set them up for that well-rehearsed zinger—the one they deliver six times a day like it’s the first time, every time.
Maybe it’s about the credit card swiper. Maybe it’s when someone orders something “easy.” Doesn’t matter. You light up. You’ve got timing. You’ve got delivery.
And by God, you could totally do stand-up.
Now get up there and tell it again. We’ll laugh. We promise.
Good job.
COOL DUDE.
You know who you are. And so does every brand ambassador in a 500-mile radius.
Congratulations on being extremely sponsored.
Good job.
An award to celebrate you—and that very special person who took time out of their day to write a review instead of just living their life.
This award goes to both of you. BOTH of you get on stage. Let’s just see what happens.
Good job.
You consistently have a new bar from out of town doing an event. Congratulations!
Is it because you love building community and sharing the stage?
Or is it because you just really, really hate regular service?
Hard to say. But either way—you’re booked, busy, and definitely not working on your own program.
Good job.
You have nothing to do with the bar industry. And yet… you are “friends” with everyone.
You show up to every industry-only event, hover near the sponsor table, and somehow always end up in the group photo.
Is it because you’re truly industry adjacent? Or are you just relentless?
Either way—here’s to you. We know you’re here at our event anyway.
Good job.
You’re low maintenance, sweet, and sometimes bring snacks.
You tip well. You don’t make it weird. You laugh at the staff jokes and know when to leave.
We need you. And you need us. We celebrate you.
Good job.
To my heroes—the beautiful, hardworking people who do it hungover, or with a sprained ankle because they just love the pain, or they love the game:
These awards are for you.
Good job.
This is a Satire Article By Damon Fabbo