Whistle While You Work

So I guess I "officially" have a job down here. I put officially in quotes because I have no DNI, it's totally under the table and they pay me in cash at the end of each night, but that's pretty much the best of all worlds here in South America. So here is a virtual tour of my "office," if you will. And a few head shots of my lovely British employers.

This is the bar. You probably recognize some of the bottles on the upper shelves. The bottom shelf is all nationals and/or wells, also known as "the cheap stuff."

This is my domain: the front of the bar. In the background is a lower level (only a couple steps down) where Argentine couples like to order one drink and then make out for hours. Ah, Latin American PDA!

This is the bar on a not-so-crazy night. I say not-so-crazy because one of the bartenders was able to dance on the bar instead of mixing drinks. I present to you Kristin from Austin. Here you can also see the back of the bar, or at least the part that's not blocked by hoards of people.

This is another view of my domain, as seen from the upper floor where the bathrooms are located. (With unisex sink areas so there's not much privacy for girly primping in the mirror.) This balcony of sorts overlooks the front bar and coffee machine -- which no one besides the Argentines knows how to use, a few scattered tables and the entrance.

This is Con, the business-minded half.

This is Matt, the mischievous, fun-loving half.
(As if you couldn't tell...)

And here they are the first night I met them when they offered me a job.
(What was I thinking?)

P.S. Matt is 43 and Con is 39. When I told Con my birthday was coming up and "Can you play The Beatles birthday song if I'm working then?" he told me he was a junior in high school when I was born. They certainly don't act like they're that old.