The Audit Begins Here
I am an accountant. I have been an accountant for thirty-one years. I have audited manufacturing companies, restaurant groups, and one very suspicious dental practice in Hoboken that I will not discuss further. I know a fraudulent line item when I see one. And last Saturday night, I was handed a bar tab that constituted the single most brazen document I have encountered in three decades of professional practice.
We are going to go through it. Together. Line by line. Because the question of THC drinks vs alcohol is not, as some people will tell you, a lifestyle question or a wellness question or a question about your personal journey. It is a math problem. And I have done the math. And the math is not flattering to the bar.
I am going to need you to sit down for this.
Line One: The Cocktails Themselves
Four drinks. Forty-eight dollars before tax. Twelve dollars per drink. Now, I have priced the ingredients in these drinks. I have done this. A jigger of mid-shelf bourbon costs the bar approximately ninety cents when bought at volume. A splash of bitters, some orange peel, one giant cube of ice that they will charge us for separately, and a stirring spoon that they will also emotionally charge us for. The drink cost them approximately one dollar and forty cents to produce. They charged me twelve. I am not against profit. I am an accountant. I understand margins. But I am also a man who can read, and what I am reading here is a confession.
Line Two: The Ice Charge
There it is. Right there on the receipt. "Premium ice, $2 per drink." Eight dollars for ice across our table. Eight dollars. For frozen weather. Ice is weather. Weather is free. The sky makes it every winter at no charge to any of us, and this establishment has decided to put it in a spherical mold and invoice me for the privilege. I looked at that line item for forty-five seconds without blinking. I have billed clients for less legitimate things than that and at least had the decency to feel bad about it.
Line Three: The "Craft" Surcharge
Three dollars per drink. Listed as a "craft preparation fee." I asked the bartender, whose title on the menu was listed as "Lead Mixologist," what this fee covered. He said, and I am quoting directly: "The intention behind the pour." I wrote it down. I have the note. I am not making this up. Eleven dollars for intention. I have billed four hundred hours over my career for intention and I have never once been able to get it on an invoice. This man has cracked a code I have been chasing for decades, and I hate him for it.
Line Four: The Amuse-Bouche Nobody Ordered
Seven dollars. Four small dishes of almonds appeared at our table without warning or consent. We did not ask for them. We did not acknowledge them. Lou ate his because Lou will eat anything placed within arm's reach, which is a separate problem I am managing. The bill included all four portions. When I flagged this to our server, she said it was "complimentary." I pointed to the seven dollars on the receipt. She said "complimentary just means we wanted you to have them." I want to be clear that this is not a definition of the word "complimentary." I have a dictionary. I checked.
Line Five: Tax, Plus the Fee That Is Not Tax But Is Next to Tax and Hopes You Will Not Notice
There is a three percent line item that is not sales tax, is not a service charge, and is not explained anywhere on the menu. When I asked what it was, I was told it was a "hospitality investment fee." I am a CPA. I have never in my professional life encountered a hospitality investment fee. I believe they made it up while I was asking the question. I respect the improvisation. I do not respect the charge.
Line Six: The Tip Prompt
The tablet came around at the end with suggested gratuities of twenty, twenty-five, and thirty percent. These percentages were calculated on the pre-tax total, which already included the ice fee, the craft surcharge, and the almonds nobody requested. The lowest option was labeled "Standard." I have opinions about a world in which twenty percent on premium ice is considered standard. They are long opinions. We do not have the space.
The Running Total, For Those Keeping Score
Four people. Four drinks each. One hundred and eighty-three dollars before tip. Forty-five dollars and seventy-five cents per person for the privilege of sitting on a stool that wobbled and being told by a Lead Mixologist that the ice had intention. I want you to hold that number in your mind while I tell you what the alternative looks like.
The Only Financially Defensible Position
Here is what I know. A 4-pack of Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned costs sixteen dollars and ninety-nine cents. That is four dollars and twenty-five cents per drink. Eight milligrams of THC per can. No craft surcharge. No intention fee. No almonds you did not want and will be billed for anyway. The ice, if you choose to add it, is taken directly from your own freezer, which runs on electricity you are already paying for, making the marginal cost of your ice approximately zero. I did not become an accountant to let that kind of savings pass me by.
Mary's M Train Double Espresso Martini, available right here as a 4-pack, is four dollars and twenty-five cents a can. At the bar on Saturday, the espresso martini was nineteen dollars. Nineteen. It had foam on it that the Lead Mixologist described as "aerated cream with a cardamom whisper." I do not want a whisper in my drink. I want a drink in my drink. Mary's M Train has eight milligrams of THC, real espresso, and nobody whispering anything near it.
If you would like to run the full comparison across all four characters, the Variety Pack gives you sixteen cans for sixty-one dollars and sixteen cents. Sixteen cans. Four varieties. Less than four dollars a can. Against the bar tab I described above, you would break even before the second round and come out ahead before anyone had the chance to charge you for the spherical ice.
THC Drinks vs Alcohol: The Verdict Is In
I have now formally closed the audit. The question of THC drinks vs alcohol cost is not complicated. The bar charges you for the ice, the intention, the almonds, the hospitality investment, and twenty-five percent of all of the above. The can charges you four dollars and twenty-five cents and lets you keep your dignity. Eight milligrams of THC, fast onset thanks to nano-emulsification, no hangover to itemize in the morning, and nobody is coming to your kitchen to tell you the cube is premium.
There is a Variety Pack in the fridge right now if you want to run the numbers yourself. I have already run them. The numbers are extremely clear. The numbers are, in fact, the clearest thing I have seen in thirty-one years of professional practice, and I once audited a dental office in Hoboken.
Lou is going to read this post and tell me I am being dramatic. Lou also ate four portions of almonds he did not order and said nothing. Lou does not get a vote on what constitutes dramatic.
Herb & Lou's canned cocktails contain 8mg hemp-derived THC per can. For adults 21 and older only. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Please drink responsibly and verify the legality of THC products in your state before purchasing.
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