“It would be nice if there was a book of recipes,” said the new bartender at his very first bar meeting.

He was one of those bartenders right out of central casting, and the way you’re picturing him right now is exactly the way that I remember him. Overwrought yet especially relaxed-appearing haircut? Check. Tattoos? Probably. Earrings? Yep. Bracelets? An abundance.

Now, none of those things are anything more than window dressing, because the true test of an individual is not how they look but rather how they act.

“All of the recipes are in the employee manual,” said the manager, pausing.

“You know,” the manager continued, “I’m not really sure what to call you. Is it Dan? Daniel? Danny?”

“People call me Hollywood,” the new guy said.

“Well,” the manager said. “I’m certainly not going to call you that.”

“Did you get that nickname because you’re from Hollywood?” asked one of the other bartenders.

“No,” Dan/Daniel/Danny/Hollywood said.

“Is it because you’re an actor?” asked another bartender.

“No,” he said.

“Did your friends call you that?” asked another, truly trying to understand.

“I gave that nickname to myself because I thought it sounded cool,” he said.

Nobody asked him any more questions.

Sometimes in the bar business, new bartenders think they’re there to “save” that business. It doesn’t matter when, how or why they were actually hired; that is going to be their mindset. They do things like completely rearrange the bar without asking anyone or riff on company cocktails (mine is better).

“You know, Manhattans are supposed to have bitters in them,” said “Hollywood” on his very first day of training.

“No, they aren’t,” I said, echoing the sentiments of every “Mr. Boston Bartender’s Guide” ever printed. “They can, but we’ve found that it’s much easier to add bitters, if necessary, rather than to take it out.”

Often in the bartender world, there’s one person who thinks that they’re going to make their mark on the world by inventing a cocktail — and that’s going to make them famous, which is one of the great bartending myths. For every Bloody Mary origin story, there’s another contradicting one. Even with stalwarts like the century-old martini and Manhattan, pinpointing one place and one person behind them is nearly impossible. Even drinks that have an obvious provenance, like the 50-year-old Tequila Sunrise or the 17-year-old Paper Plane, often don’t have the bartender’s name associated with them (Bobby Lozoff/Sausalito’s Trident and Sam Ross/The Violet Hour in Chicago, respectively). And just as quickly as they start out, they often finish up differently. The Tequila Sunrise originally had cassis and lime juice in it, and the Paper Plane was originally made with Campari, not Aperol. And just ask any bartender that you know about Ross or Lozoff; I’m going to guess that 90% of them won’t know who you’re talking about. But ask for one of their signature drinks, and they’ll know them.

Maybe 1960s actor George Lazenby said it best when he said, “Fame is short-lived, and you’re the last to know when you’re no longer hot.”

“It would be great if there was a side work chart,” said “Hollywood” just a few minutes later.

“There’s one in the employee manual,” said the manager, again.

I was at a bar recently, during the day, which was serving specialty coffees for an event across the street. The event is ongoing, and the bar realizes the value of having a crowd of people directly across the street. And that bar adjusts its parameters to fit theirs. For that one day every month, cappuccinos, lattes and coffees rule the day.

And there’s a guy there who makes sure that happens.

“We do things the right way,” said the man to a co-worker after that co-worker went a little askew.

That guy, in his leather apron, probably doesn’t have a nickname, and he’s probably not trying to invent a new drink, rearrange the bar or lecture someone (incorrectly) on Manhattans. He’s the steadying force that keeps that place operating “the right way.” I don’t know his name, but I’m sure plenty of other people do. And I’m sure that his employers and his co-workers do, because it’s people like him that are the real backbone of the service industry. Those that “do it the right way” stick around, but only if you’re lucky enough and smart enough to support them.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• “Doing it the right way” has a far longer shelf life than doing it Hollywood style.

• George Lazenby played James Bond in a movie once. And he didn’t even get to say, “Shaken, not stirred.”

• The garnish for a Paper Plane was originally a little origami paper airplane.

• The original “Savoy Cocktail Book” recipe No. 1 for a Manhattan includes either curacao or maraschino liqueur as an ingredient. Let the arguing on the internet ensue.

• If you haven’t bothered to read the employee manual, then maybe, just maybe, you should keep a little quiet at your first company meeting.

Jeff Burkhart is the author of “Twenty Years Behind Bars: The Spirited Adventures of a Real Bartender, Vol. I and II,” the host of the Barfly Podcast on iTunes (as seen in the NY Times) and an award-winning bartender at a local restaurant. Follow him at jeffburkhart.net and contact him at jeffbarflyIJ@outlook.com