Bar Rescue FMV

Running a bar is not just a business. It's a science. No one knows more about Bar Science than Jon Taffer. Over the last 36 years, Jon has transformed hundreds of failing bars worldwide. Using his years of experience and no-nonsense approach, Jon will turn these money pits into money makers. <iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/36740473?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="640" height="360" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe> <a href="https://vimeo.com/36740473">BAR RESCUE - TITLE REVEAL</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/fisheggs">FISH•EGGS</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>. You opened your bar with the starry-eyed dreams of mixology fame. You and your friend THE CHEF decided to open it, and you would run the bar, and he would work the food. And it worked for a little bit. Now you are in $269,000 worth of debt. You have an unmotivated bar staff, insipid theme nights, low attendance, and numerous health code violations. Are you ready to agree to pull back the doors, bust open the books, and make a call for help — to Bar Rescue? <a href="http://imgur.com/w3lwvbC"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/w3lwvbC.png" title="source: imgur.com" /></a> [[TAFFER RECON]]

A black SUV is parked just out front of your bar. Jon Taffer is sitting at the driver's seat, and his friend mixologist, MICHAEL TIPPS is riding shotgun. Also, Chef BRIAN DUFFY sits in the back. JON TAFFER: Hmm, I can't make out any of the signage, does this look like a bar to you? And it's a shame. That's a prime location, I mean the median income here is $65,000 a year, and the average age here is 31, so it's not like this is a dead town. MICHAEL TIPPS: Yeah, I mean and it's right on the thoroughfare. What a waste. TAFFER: I've sent a couple of friends of mine to do some recon of the place, see how bad it is. We have cameras setup, and we're getting a live feed of what's going on inside. [[RECON THE BAR]]

JON TAFFER wades into the BAR. This is a familiar scene to Taffer. The faces in the bar turn around (mostly because the producer tells them to, and they already signed the releases but whatever). He makes a beeline to the bar and locks eyes with you as he sticks his hand out. TAFFER: Hi, I'm Jon Taffer. It's good to meet you. This is some bar you have here. Do you know what you're doing, we have cameras setup all throughout the bar. And between the surly attitude, the fact you don't know how to make a margarita, and vaguely anti-ethnic sentiments, YOU'RE POISONING YOUR CUSTOMERS WITH UNCLEAN AND UNDERCOOKED CHICKEN AND I CAN'T STAND FOR THAT. ALL OF YOU GO HOME, SHUT IT DOWN SHUT IT THE FUCK DOWN. THIS BAR IS CLOSED FOR THE NIGHT. <IMG SRC="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8675/30431158392_3917ae46eb_z.jpg"> DUFFY's disgust is mildly disguised by his apparent nausea. The rest of you, we're having a staff meeting in two days, and I expect to see all of you there, especially YOU. [[TWO DAYS LATER]]

<IMG SRC="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8675/30431158392_3917ae46eb_z.jpg"> TAFFER: That was a good first step. I know that was hard. But it will be worth it, trust me. I brought some friends of mine to help, they are experts in their field, allow me to introduce them. [[DRINK SPECIALIST MICHAEL TIPPS]] [[FOOD SPECIALIST CHEF BRIAN DUFFY]]

<IMG SRC="https://c1.staticflickr.com/6/5608/30431158432_9a3899fbe9_z.jpg"> TAFFER: My friend Michael Tipps began his career in food and beverage in New York City where over time he became the bar manager at the prestigious Soho and Tribeca Grand Hotels for Grand Life Hotels. It was here that Tipps was taught the essentials of classic mixology by the person responsible for bringing the classic cocktail craze back to the United States, Sasha Petraske of Milk and Honey fame. In 2008, Tipps moved to Los Angeles, partnering with David Foss to form Est1854 LLC, a food and beverage consulting firm. TIPPS: Okay, let's get to work, let's see what you know. Pour me a margarita. [[Overpour Margarita]]

Unphased from the events that just occured in the past 48 hours, YOU dump the same tequilia mixture from the other night into a shaker. TIPPS takes a sip from a straw and is repulsed. TIPPS: No, no, no that's not how you do it, are you trying to poison your customers? Look, I'm going to teach you some drinks that would help class up this place. TIPPS picks up a bottle and spins it around. Here comes a sponsored drink montage. [[The Whole Swine Yards]]

* In an ice filled highball glass pour SMIRNOFF® NO. 21 Vodka, spicy bloody mary mix, worcestershire sauce. * Stir with a bar spoon. * Garnish with a bacon strip, celery stick and olive. [[Next Drink ->Selbyville Slush]] [[Go To Stress Test]]

TAFFER: I've made a call to the local state college and VFW Hall to get fill this place with horny college students and military veterans looking to have a good time. I'm going to test how well you and your staff work under pressure. I'm going to be looking for an efficacy of service, and making sure you know how to be making the drinks that Tipps taught you. [[The Stress Test Night]]

TAFFER: My friend Chef Brian Duffy will help you later, I'm going to need you to learn how to pour a drink first. [[Meet Drink Specialist Michael Tipps->DRINK SPECIALIST MICHAEL TIPPS]]

TAFFER: If you don't want my help I'm out the door. Who here wants my help? BARTENDER: I think we should take it, what do we have to lose at this point? TAFFER: Well, what will it be? YOU: [[Agree to pull back the doors, bust open the books, and make a call for help — to Bar Rescue.]] [[Fuck you Taffer, I'm a successful businessperson]]

TAFFER: Good, we start right now. Before we start we need to address the elephant in the room. Like I said, I can fix a bad attitude, I can save a failing bar, but what I saw that Chef do the food is inexcusable. He's a liability. The only way I'm going to stay on is if you fire THE CHEF. You: [[What, I can't!]] [[I won't do it!]]

TAFFER: NEVER IN ALL OF MY YEARS AS A BAR AND NIGHTLIFE CONSULTANT HAVE I SEEN SOMEONE AS DELUSIONAL AND INSOLENT AS YOU. YOU'RE A FUCKING FAILURE, AND I'M A GODDAMN WINNER, YOU WANT TO TRY THIS AGAIN? <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Fx88HNcAkLw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> [[Agree to pull back the doors, bust open the books, and make a call for help — to Bar Rescue.]] [[No Taffer, I'm a goddamn winner, go back to your house on a hill]]

TAFFER: Fuck you, I'm out of here, I don't need this shit. Come on Tipps, Duffy. Let's find another bar that actually wants our help, not this arrogant prick. Best of luck to you with everything, you fucking asshole. A couple of weeks after Jon Taffer walks out, your Bar plays host to a punk band during a skinhead night. You didn't know you even had a skinhead night. The punk band yells shit at the white supremacists. Later they witness a murder, and barricade themselves in the Green Room where they had to make it through the night. The cops close your bar indefinitely during the investigation. [[Do you want to try that again?->TWO DAYS LATER]] <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/v6FxwRGIy1g" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

* In a blender, add ice, GEORGE DICKEL NO. 12® Tennessee Whisky and cola syrup. * Pour into a mason jar. * Garnish with a cherry. TIPPS: I got one more cocktail that I think the customers here will love. [[One more cocktail for tonight->The Dickel Pickle]] [[I think we've learned enough->Go To Stress Test]]

TIPPS: Are you sure? You haven't learned everything that I could teach you! TAFFER: My friend Michael Tipps began his career in food and beverage in New York City where over time he became the bar manager at the prestigious Soho and Tribeca Grand Hotels for Grand Life Hotels. Remember that before you think you can go on to tonight's stress test! [[Whatever, Taffer->Stress Test Tonight]] [[I'm sorry Mr. Taffer, we need to be better->Selbyville Slush]]

* Pour George Dickel® Whisky into a shot glass. * Pour pickle juice into a different shot glass. * Drink whisky followed by the pickle juice. TIPPS: Remember! It's pickle juice, that's the secret! [[Stress Test Tonight]]

GRIZZLED WAR VETERAN: Not bad. [[Close for the night]]

TAFFER: GODDAMMIT YOU WEREN'T PAYING ATTENTION! SHUT IT DOWN! [[Shut It Down]]

TAFFER: That was a goddamn disgrace you should be ashamed of yourself. You need to work on your customer service skills, go back to TIPPS. [[You should learn how to make a drink from Drink Specialist Michael Tipps->DRINK SPECIALIST MICHAEL TIPPS]]

THE BAR is empty. A sense of calm and accomplishment dot the faces of your staff. TAFFER: Not the best night of service I've seen by a long-shot but you've shown some potential. Now we're going to remodel this dump, come here I have some ideas for a new concept bar. TAFFER unfurls blueprints and breaks out a marker, but this is for another time. CONGRATULATIONS! <a href="http://imgur.com/w3lwvbC"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/w3lwvbC.png" title="source: imgur.com" /></a>

It's another slow night in the bar, dotted with random patrons, vestiges of what was left during its heyday. What's left is a jingoistic Bruce Springsteen song about the death of industry in America kind of vibe. Patrons whose dignity has been robbed by inevitable multi-culturalism. You slump behind the bar sipping on a beer, watching the grim tableau unfold in front of you as the bar staff has free reign over your bar. Your life's work. Two people you don't recognize walk into the bar. They look like big-city types, they probably work in an office. RECON 1: Hi, how are you? I'd like a margarita. YOU: [[We Don't Serve Your Kind]] [[What's In A Margarita Again?]]

RECON 1: That's incredibly rude. I'll take a beer. Can I just get a beer? What do you have on draft? YOU: Bud Light. RECON 1: Good. Fine. I'll take a Bud Light then. [[Pour Bud Light]]

<IMG SRC="https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5784/30431158282_e7f8abfa8b_z.jpg"> TAFFER: THIS JAMOKE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT'S IN A MARGARITA? WHAT KIND OF SERVICE IS THIS? TIPPS: This is some day-one stuff. Shameful. [[BACK TO THE BAR]]

RECON 1: Tequila, triple sec and lime juice. YOU stare blankly at the customer. You understand what they are but put them together, you are baffled. [[Pour Margarita]]

YOU, having given up on the concept of ratios, pour the three components into a shaker with a heavy hand, emphasis on the tequila. You give it a quick shake and dump it into a glass. The stranger takes a sip and winces. RECON 1: Oof, that's strong, all I taste is tequila. YOU: [[You Must Think Highly Of Yourself]]

YOU, with a look of distrust in your eyes, pour a lukewarm Bud Light into a dirty pint glass, hand it to the stranger, your gaze not breaking. RECON 1: Hi, can I get a clean glass? YOU: You must think highly of yourself. [[Warm Bud Light, Dirty Glass]]

<IMG SRC="https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5784/30431158282_e7f8abfa8b_z.jpg"> TAFFER: Disgraceful. TIPPS: What a joke. [[RECON 2->Meanwhile at back at the Bar]]

<IMG SRC="https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5784/30431158282_e7f8abfa8b_z.jpg"> TAFFER: WHERE DID THEY LEARN HOW TO POUR DRINKS? TIPPS: Unprofessional. [[RECON 2->Meanwhile at back at the Bar]]

YOU glance at the stranger's friend, who looks even more lost as she fumbles through the cheaply laminated menu. YOU: And what can I get for you? RECON 2: What do you recommend? YOU: It's all good, although I mean I'd steer clear of the nachos. RECON 2: Uh, I'll have the chicken sandwich? [[Yell at Kitchen Staff for a Chicken Sandwich-> Food]]

<IMG SRC="https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5784/30431158282_e7f8abfa8b_z.jpg"> TAFFER: Let's see what they have to do with the food. But what owner isn't proud of what they're putting out? Avoiding the nachos? What a joke. DUFFY: I'm not expecting much. [[Kitchen Hidden Camera]]

THE CHEF, after wiping his nose with his hand, paws his hand into the walk-in. He grabs a frost burned breaded chicken patty. It has seen better days in the freezers of failing public school cafeterias. With a grunt THE CHEF drops the patty into a putrid oil mixture. The oil gurgles, a last gasp as any cooking potential has left it long ago. THE CHEF, having lost feeling in his hands a long time ago, plunges his fist into the barely heated oil to grab the chicken patty. He places it on a stale bun with a wilted piece of lettuce. A squirt of room temperature mayo and THE CHEF rings the bell. [[Serve The Chicken]]

YOU nonchalantly serve the stranger's friend a chicken sandwich. No one has ordered this in months. Not like these two jabronis know that. RECON 2 picks at their sandwich, doing their best to disguise their disgust. RECON 2: I'm not sure this is cooked through. YOU: First you come in here to complain about the drinks. And now you're going to come into my establishment and question my chef's food handling practices? I've known him all my life. We opened this place together. [[Meanwhile at the SUV]]

<IMG SRC="https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5784/30431158282_e7f8abfa8b_z.jpg"> TAFFER: I CAN FIX A BAD ATTITUDE, I CAN FIX A BAD POUR, BUT I WILL NOT STAND FOR ANYBODY SERVING UNDERCOOKED FOOD TO CUSTOMERS THAT IS SO BLANTANTLY IRRESONSIBLE, I'M GOING IN, COME ON! [[Hi I'm Jon Taffer, pleased to meet you]]

The stress test is an understandable mess. The Bar hasn't seen it packed like this in years. It's filled with horny business admin majors and men who've watched other men die on foreign lands. It's an eclectic mix. Inside, a hurricane of drink requests and a cacophony of shouts. You do your best to try and whimper delegations to your staff, but it's all lost to the noise. TAFFER, having seen enough intervenes. TAFFER: [[WHO HERE NEEDS A DRINK?]]

HORNY COLLEGE STUDENT: I'll Have a Dickel Pickle. YOU: [[Sure->Make A Dickel Pickle Student]] [[A what now?->What Is In That Again Student?]]

GRIZZLED WAR VETERAN: I'll Have a Dickel Pickle. YOU: [[Sure->Make A The Dickel Pickle Veteran]] [[A what now?->What Is That Veteran?]]

HORNY COLLEGE STUDENT: Not bad. [[Close for the night]]

HORNY COLLEGE STUDENT: It's right here on the menu! My social media following of 90 will be hearing about this you turd! But not before I plow on some freshman strange! TAFFER: This future mid-level sales manager is never going to stop telling this story to his equally mediocre coworkers for years! [[You done it now->Stress Test Fail]]

GRIZZLED WAR VETERAN: I didn't fight in a world war, overthrow a democratically elected president in South America, and commit an untold number of war crimes in the name of the flag to be served like this! TAFFER: This is a disgrace! How dare you disrespect this man who sacrificed so much for his country and the financial interests of corporations with your ineptness! [[You done it now->Stress Test Fail]]

TAFFER: This is what it means to be a leader, so set a a goddamn example and lead! From this point forward, you won't tolerate liabilities. So are you going to be a leader, a manager for everyone else here? [[I'm sorry, Chef->I'm Sorry]]

TAFFER: Are you kidding me? This is some kind of misguided loyalty? What is this, The Sandlot? He's not loyal to the business; he's not loyal to you! His incompetence is going to ruin you! He's a sinking ship, and he's going to take you down along with your bar, and the livelihoods of everybody else! [[I'm Sorry, Chef->I'm Sorry]] [[I'm Sorry, Jon, I can't.->Taffer Chef Fail]]

YOU: I'm sorry Chef. You've been with me from the start here. But if I want this business to continue, I need to act like a manager. And I can't have you poisoning the customers. Besides all the health code violations come from the kitchen. THE CHEF: This is some fucking bullshit. After all I've done for you? You're a real piece of shit, you know that? You gonna throw me under the bus so you can get your fifteen minutes of fame? I should have known. I hope it's worth it, fuck you. THE CHEF stomps out of the bar, rips off his lavalier microphone as a camera crew and producer tries to follow him out. [[What do you have to say about what just happened, Chef?->Chef Fire Interview]] TAFFER: Alright, let's get to it. [[Training Starts Now]]

TAFFER is indignant. TAFFER: Are you kidding me? Last chance. The Chef is nuclear waste! [[I'm Sorry, Chef->I'm Sorry]] [[I gotta have a code. Otherwise it doesn't make us beter than the animals.->Taffer Chef Fail 2]]

TAFFER: Fuck you, I'm out of here, I don't need this shit. Come on Tipps, Duffy. Let's find another bar that actually wants our help, not this arrogant prick. Let me know how not being an animal helps you save this goddamn dump. Best of luck to you with everything, you fucking asshole. A couple of weeks after Jon Taffer walks out, your Bar plays host to a punk band during a skinhead night. You didn't know you even had a skinhead night. The punk band yells shit at the white supremacists. Later they witness a murder, and barricade themselves in the Green Room where they had to make it through the night. The cops close your bar indefinitely during the investigation. [[Do you want to try that again?->Agree to pull back the doors, bust open the books, and make a call for help — to Bar Rescue.]] <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/v6FxwRGIy1g" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

THE CHEF is standing outside the bar entrance, with a lit cigarette in his hand. The dead stare in his eyes is replaced by two smoldering embers. THE CHEF: This is some straight bullshit. This bar wouldn't be what it would be without me. We started this together. We had a dream. This would be our place! He'd run the front, I'd run the back. I sunk five years of my life into this place. I have one bad day on the day you assholes show up, and now I'm out on my ass. That Daffy Duck sounding motherfucking Jon Taffer is going to run this place into the ground. Hope the fifteen minutes was worth it. THE CHEF spits out his spent cigarette, and grinds it into the pavement with the toe of his shoe. THE CHEF takes one more look back at the bar, spits right at the door as he walks off into an uncertain night. [[Meanwhile, Inside the Bar->Training Starts Now]]]]