The Story Behind Our Rituals

People often ask how we came up with all our weekly rituals at Otematata’s Best Dam Pub.

The truth is a little disappointing.

There wasn’t a strategic planning session. No consultants were harmed in the making of these promotions. There wasn’t even a whiteboard involved.

It started because winter rolls around in the Waitaki Valley every year and, for reasons nobody has quite figured out, people suddenly decide sitting at home is a good idea.

Now we’re all for a quiet night occasionally. But after watching perfectly good humans spend their evenings arguing with the weather forecast, scrolling through rubbish on their phones, and pretending a packet of crackers counts as dinner, we felt intervention was required.

A pub is supposed to be the heart of a community. It’s where locals catch up, visitors become locals, fishing stories gain extra centimetres, and world problems are solved somewhere between the first pint and the second.

So we decided to create a few reasons for people to leave the house.

The first was Monday.

Now, Monday has never enjoyed much public support. It’s a day most people tolerate rather than celebrate. We figured that if we could make Monday just a little bit better, the rest of the week might follow. That’s how Taco ‘Bout Monday came about. Between 5 pm & 8 pm, dine in, grab a taco, fries and a beer, and suddenly Monday doesn’t seem quite so personal.

Tuesday arrived next.

By then, everyone was talking about rising costs, inflation, fuel prices and all the other things rising quicker than a merino that's spotted a sheep dog. Rather than fight it, we embraced it and created Tight Ass Tuesday. Fish and chips from 5 pm to 8 pm, dine in only, and absolutely no judgment from us. In fact, we’d be worried if you didn’t appreciate a good bargain.

Wednesday got a little out of hand.

Someone suggested wings. Someone else suggested making them cheap. Then somebody made the mistake of suggesting they should be really cheap. That’s how we ended up with Wings Wednesday. Every week between 5 pm & 8 pm, perfectly sensible adults convince themselves they’ll only have a few. The evidence suggests otherwise.

Thursday wasn’t much different.

One dollar crispy dumplings seemed like a completely reasonable idea at the time. To be fair, they still are. Every Thursday from 5pm to 8pm, dine in only. Plates start appearing on tables, and before long people have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing that evening anyway.

By Friday, nobody needs much encouragement.

The mood changes. The weekend is peeking over the horizon. Hoppy Hour kicks in. Complimentary nibbles appear. People start arriving with every intention of having a quick drink before heading home. History shows this plan has a remarkably low success rate.

Of course, every day has its own little bit of excitement thanks to Spin & Win.

You use the loyalty app, you show up, we draw a name, and somebody gets a crack at the wheel. Sometimes people win big. Sometimes they don’t. Either way, it gives everyone something to talk about, which is half the point.

Then comes Sunday.

The grand old finish to the week.

Super Sunday wasn’t really designed so much as it evolved. Cheap roast meat sammies, meat raffles, drink specials and a room full of people who have absolutely nowhere more important to be. It’s the sort of afternoon where complete strangers end up sharing stories, locals catch up on the week’s news, and somebody inevitably starts telling a tale that becomes less believable with every retelling.

What happened to Saturday, you ask?

Fair question. The truth is, Saturday doesn’t need a ritual. Monday through Friday need a little help. Sunday’s a celebration. But Saturday? Saturday takes care of itself.

It’s the day the fishermen roll in with stories that somehow get bigger between the car park and the bar. It’s the day golfers explain why they should have won, hunters compare notes, travellers discover they’ve accidentally stumbled across the best dam pub in the country, and locals settle in for an afternoon that turns into an evening without anyone really noticing.

There are no gimmicks, no special deals, and no carefully crafted promotions. Just good bastards, cold beers, proper pub tucker, plenty of laughs and whatever adventures people have collected during the week. The ritual on Saturday isn’t something we invented. It’s something our customers created, and we’ve learned it’s best not to interfere with perfection.

And that’s really the thing about all our rituals.

They’re not actually about tacos, fish and chips, wings, dumplings, cheap drinks or prize wheels. They’re about giving people a reason to get together.

In a world where everyone seems busier than ever, we’re pretty proud of creating excuses to slow down for a few hours, have a yarn, share a meal and enjoy good company.

Because the best part of any pub isn’t what’s on the menu.

It’s who’s sitting around it.

And around here, we’ve got some bloody good people.

So if you’ve been meaning to pop in, this is your sign.

Pick a ritual. Any ritual.

We’ll save you a seat. Thank you!