Round by round we go. Oh no!

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

A customer enters one of his regular cafés. He sees some familiar and not-so-familiar faces. On ordering his brew, he also asks the attendant to serve out another round of drinks to the clientèle present, to be put on his tab.

Round-buying drives some people round the bend.

How many times have you seen this happening in a café, restaurant or other similar establishment?

I can't recall it ever happening in my panadería offices in Bogotá. OK, on the very odd occasion I've received an impromptu invite for a coffee but never have I seen a fellow regular wander in and order drinks for all present.

Proper order

Yet, there's something about places that sell and serve alcohol that sees some people go invite crazy — and that's before the booze has gone to their brains. Also, we're talking here about seasoned drinkers who should know better, not once-a-year tipplers.

Such types seem incapable of simply ordering their own drink and no more. It's not proper order if one orders just a solitary drink when in the company of others.

Now, this behaviour would be very welcome if it didn't come with an expectation that everyone else should rally round the round. But it usually does. What's more, one risks insulting the first round-buyer by politely declining the offer.

I struggle to understand this mindset. Or, more accurately, I struggle to understand why certain men — for it's almost always men, especially in Colombia — feel compelled to buy rounds in the first instance. The practice adds another reason for potential conflict in an environment where conflicts can flare up at, quite literally, the drop of a bottle. Or often for much less of an offence.

'Forking out for the fornication partners of others is something that particularly annoys me.'

I figure there's a machismo element to it. In a Bogotá context, this manifests itself as the big man about the barrio, splashing the cash. To a point, that is. Because when the big man starts waiting for others to contribute, he becomes a little smaller in the eyes of both the freeloaders and the more independent-minded drinkers who happened to get caught up in his generosity.

Pay more, drink less

I can understand and even support round-buying when everyone is drinking at pretty much the same pace with the same brew. Or at least a drink at the same price.

This, however, is rarely the case for me. In Colombia, I prefer to drink the bigger presentations. They usually give you more punch for your peso. For example, a 330 ml bottle can be up to double the price per millilitre compared to a 750 ml or litre bottle. Yet, many Colombians opt for the 330 ml bottles. Even in Ireland, my pint of choice was regularly more economical than that of my boozing buddies.

Thus, seldom have I broken even when I get stuck in rounds. Indeed, I've often spent more than double the price of what I had actually drunk. The aforementioned freeloaders are usually to blame for this. These freeloaders are generally made up of barrio bums and female companions of other male imbibers. Forking out for the fornication partners of others is something that particularly annoys me. (It's got to the stage where I'll avoid a watering hole if I see certain round-buying types there.)

Rounds can also be worth it when it's a pay-as-you-order system and the payment method is cash only. The latter is certainly commonplace in Colombia — cash is still king here — yet it's the tab system that dominates in standard tiendas and barrio bars. Pay when you finish up, not as you go. Or, in some cases, pay when you have the money. (See Colombia's credit contradiction for more on the country's taxing tab culture.)

So the hassle of handing out change for each individual order doesn't arise in an average drinking setting in Colombia. In my native Ireland and other high-income nations where card/digital payments have taken over, paying as you order isn't as much of an issue as it might have been in the past.

With all that in mind, rounds should be the exception rather than the norm. And they should be more frowned upon than they currently are. #JustSayNo.

Nonetheless, if somebody wants to buy me a beer or whatever with absolutely no expectations that I'll buy one back, I won't say no to that. It would be better, though, if they treated me to lunch or a coffee or three. It's not more beer that I'm in need of these days.
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Abandoning the beer standard

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

In Bogotá's perpetual Corner Bar barrio, I explained how a working-class drinking culture permeates the neighbourhood I frequent the most in the Colombian capital. As somebody who grew up in rural Ireland, this is quite familiar to me.

It's best not to overly rely on the beer standard. Diversification is key.

One big difference, though, is that the barrio locals don't appear to have the same complex, schizophrenic-like relationship with alcohol as many Irish have. The barrio boys just drink when they want to drink — which is regularly — without this deep guilt, that nagging question, 'Am I overly reliant on booze?'

Lightweight battle

You see, both in Ireland and abroad, the notion of the heavy-drinking Irish is effectively accepted as fact. An Irishman — or woman, for that matter — who doesn't drink to excess is an anomaly.

Now, as fairly well-travelled, I've found that all historically Christian nations have a drinking culture — some a little more so than others, of course. In fact, according to various studies, Ireland isn't even in the top five globally when it comes to alcohol consumption per capita. Those eastern Europeans are our boozy betters.

Colombia, for the record, tends to be well down the list in such studies. It is, though, far from teetotaler territory.

Comparing myself to my barrio besties, it's safe to assume my weekly consumption is now below the average.

In contrast, back in 2016, when I first started socialising in Santandercito, I had what I now view as a rather immature macho-drinking attitude i.e. I liked being the one downing the most. And, more often than not, I was.

The small problem is that this set a precedent. The barrio buddies came to expect me to drink copious amounts when I "went at it".

This had less to do with the Irish-drinking reputation preceding me and more to do with that initial form.

Thus, my gradual change to not only trying but also enjoying drinking less when I socialise in such environments appears to have taken some acquaintances by surprise. Now, I may be overstating this somewhat. We tend to think that others are judging us on certain behaviours or whatever when in reality they're not.

'While many are generous, these are balanced out by numerous freeloaders. I've frequently spent double what I've actually drunk on nights out.'

There are also the vestiges of the Ireland I grew up in at play here. One would be viewed as a lightweight if he couldn't keep the same drinking pace as "the lads". All things considered, such silliness about boozing is less of a factor in Colombia (although, this isn't to say it doesn't exist at all — where there is bravado and booze it's bound to be present to some degree).

The missing rounds

Nonetheless, the fact that I've been drinking less means some barrio buddies have been seeing less of me. Of course, one can still go out and not drink but I don't consider the barrio tienda as a great place for that. I'm far more content to be in my panadería when I'm not drinking beer.

It must be noted here, it's not that I'm in need of company when I go to such establishments. I'm often happier when left to my own thoughts.

Indeed, as regards the panadería, I usually go there to read and write, so having people talk to me is an annoyance. It's just that I like the idea that I'm "out", that there's movement about me. Spending the majority of my time in the place in which I sleep is somewhat torturous for me. Working from "home" is not something I view as a positive.

Coming back to my overall reduction in alcohol consumption, alongside the health benefits, there's also the financial factor. Not only am I spending slightly less on beer for me, but more significantly I'm also spending less on others.

This is due to the popular "round culture" in Colombia. And while there are many generous folk about, these are balanced out by numerous freeloaders. I've frequently spent double what I've actually drunk on days/nights out.

OK, inviting people to a tipple or two now and again is a nice gesture when one can afford it, but multiple times a month? It tends to put me in a bad mood. And when alcohol mixes with one's bad mood, this often results in quite an explosive cocktail.

So my drinking less which results in spending less — at that moment of socialising anyway — is good for the bank balance, body and mind.

That being said, I'm not quite ready to abandon the beer standard completely. I am, however, loosening my ties to it.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".