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Yes, yes it was. Because of various things (a mini-vacation and a favor to a coworker who did me a favor), I worked three straight doubles of about 13 hours each this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. And I was BUSY. To the tune of selling over $5300 in food and drinks busy. The good news is, while that was exhausting, I basically made back all the money I spent on my mini-vacation, and then some. 
But there WERE some characters.
Mr. Beefeater
A guy at one of my tables ordered a Beefeater Martini, straight up. (For those unfamiliar with it, Beefeater is a brand of gin.) I order said martini, bring it to said guy along with the rest of the table's drinks, and go about my job. A few minutes later, I return to the table, and the guy asked me for an empty shot glass. Okay.....for the heck of it, and to humor him, I got an empty shot glass from my bar, much to my coworkers' confusion. I dropped it off at the table. A little bit later, I returned to the table and got to have this lovely conversation...
MR. BEEFEATER: "You might want to tell them to get rid of the gin they have in the Beefeater bottle and pour actual Beefeater's."
JESTER:
"Excuse me?"
MR. BEEFEATER: "I know Beefeater. I've been drinking it for years. And I am telling you, THIS is NOT Beefeater."
JESTER: "Sir, I assure you I ordered Beefeater, and I am certain my bartender poured that. If you would like me to have them remake the martini, I can do that."
MR. BEEFEATER: "No, don't worry about it."
Just on a whim, I went to my bartender and asked him if he had, in fact, poured Beefeater. He looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "Of course." So I returned to the table.
JESTER: "Sir, I just talked to my bartender, and he assures me that he poured Beefeater for your martini."
MR. BEEFEATER: "THIS is NOT Beefeater. Here, taste it." At this point he offered me the shot glass, which obviously has some of the martini in it.
JESTER: "Sir, that would do no good. I don't drink gin at all, and I would not be able to tell the difference between Beefeater or any other gin by taste. But I assure you, that is, in fact, Beefeater."
MR. BEEFEATER'S SISTER: "I tasted it, and I don't drink gin. It tastes far too sweet."
MR. BEEFEATER: "See? I told you. You folks are obviously using some OTHER gin in the Beefeater bottle."
JESTER: "Sir, I can't comment on other bars, but I promise you we do NOT switch our liquors."
MR. BEEFEATER'S SISTER: "It tasted wrong. He likes them extra extra dry." This means, of course, that Mr. Beefeater wanted his martini with no vermouth.
JESTER: "But ma'am, he didn't order it extra dry. He just ordered the martini."
MR. BEEFEATER'S SISTER: "Well that's the way he likes it. It is probably the vermouth that is messing everything up."
JESTER: "Sir, you didn't tell me that (he didn't argue this point), but if you would like, I could have my bartender make you the martini the way you like it."
MR. BEEFEATER: "No, we'll just call it even."
I have no idea what he meant by that comment, but I went to my manager and told her the story. We decided to make him an extra extra dry martini....basically just chilled straight Beefeater. I take said drink, walk up to the table and say, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm really not good at following instructions, so we made you a new martini. Here you go." He tasted, he liked it, he thanked me.
Naturally the prick left me a crappy tip after all that.
Note to drinkers: if you say you KNOW what you drink, you should also know HOW to order it. If you don't, you probably should not be accusing the bar of underhanded business practices, like switching liquors and such. Take responsibility for your own actions, or an English guy in a large funny hat may just come along and forcibly sodomize you with a juniper bush.
Okay, maybe not, but a boy can dream, can't he?
Making Up New Names
This happened to my bartender, who we shall call Shane. Shane is one of those large bald white guys. By large I mean basically a walking wall. The kind of guy that even if he doesn't know what he is doing could easily work security at a bar and not have people mess with him. Yeah, one of those guys. So Shane is taking orders from some people at the bar, and an SC walks up and just starts barking stuff out to him...
SC: "Hey, Scooter, get me a rum and coke."
SHANE: "ExCUSE me?"
SC: "I said get me a rum and coke, Scooter."
SHANE: "What's your name, pal?"
SC: "John."
SHANE: "Tell you what, John. Unless you want me making up new names for YOU, MY name is Shane, and that is what I answer to. And I'll get you your drink when I am done with these folks here. Is that fair, John?"
SC: (cowed) "Um, sure, Shane. No problem."
And that was the last time the SC called him anything BUT Shane. The funny part is, this is NOT the type of guy you would think of as a "Scooter."
Some advice to bar patrons: If you don't feel like staying very thirsty a majority of the time you're there, do not make up nicknames for your bartenders. There are only three instances where you should use anything BUT their names:
1. If you don't know their names, and use some respectable address, such as "Sir," "Ma'am," or "Miss." Heck, in a casual place, even "dude" or "darlin'" are preferable.
2. Nicknames they have given themselves. Such as, say, Jester or Rapscallion.
3. Nicknames that show you have nothing but respect for them. "Pardon me, O Beer Goddess, but might I trouble you for a cold brew?" This last one is usually guaranteed to get you remembered AND well served!
My Children Are The Center of the World
This one is actually from before my mini-vacation. We have, at The Bar, an upstairs open air bar/restaurant area, in addition to the main area downstairs. During this slower time of year, it is not open during the day (too hot) and not open some of earlier nights of the week (too dead). A group of about 8 or so, with kids, was at a table, but they weren't mine. Our upstairs was closed at that time. I see two of the kids, about 8, heading up the stairs. I call to them, and tell them that the upstairs is closed. They come back down. One of the women in the group calls me over.
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Don't you have a pool table upstairs?"
JESTER: "Yes we do, ma'am, but the upstairs is closed."
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Well, can't they just go check it out?"
JESTER: "I'm sorry, but no. It's a liability thing."
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Well, how come HE can go up there?" (She indicates my boss going up the stairs.)
JESTER: "Ma'am, he OWNS the place. He can go wherever he wants!"
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Well, then HE can take my boys up there!"
No, darlin', he can't. He has work to do, running a multi-million dollar operation, and as such, he is not, nor should he be, responsible for the safety of your progeny while they are running around unsupervised in an area that is at that time closed to the public. We try to please our customers, yes. But babysitting them and ignoring our own rules for them is not going above and beyond, it is being utterly ridiculous. And it is completely unreasonable for you to expect it of us.
And by the way, might I add that it may not be the best thing to be teaching your offspring that rules can be ignored or overridden at their convenience? It does tend to set a bad example. I just hope these same kids one day put you in a substandard nursing home staffed by fetishistic orderlies, due to their having learned that inconvenient things in life can be ignored.
Drunk, Nasty, and Stupid Is No Way To Go Through Life, Son
My manager found some drunk yahoo idiot peeing in the alley next to our establishment. She told him in no uncertain terms that he could not do that, and he needed to leave. He told her, "Fuck off!" And that, my friends, is when my awesome manager took off the gloves and called the cops. About the same time that two other people called the cops. Apparently, he had been a drunken idiot inside the bar as well.
Now, a lesson for you, boys and girls: when you have just told someone who runs a place to fuck off after you have been urinating on their property and they have obviously called the cops, it might be in your best interest to be anywhere BUT in the vicinity of said place. Of course, giving this guy credit for that would be assuming he had either brains or sobriety, both of which seemed to have been sorely lacking.
The cops showed up soon enough, and eventually arrested the guy. His car was parked right out in front of the bar, at a yellow curb. You know, where you're NOT supposed to park? Well, we figured his car would be heavily ticketed by morning. The next morning, the car was still there, unticketed....and with someone in it. Apparently our first genius's friend. And he was there ALL DAY....from the time we opened till the time we closed. I know this, because I was there that whole time. For a while, we thought the guy might be dead, but at one point, we did notice he was in a different position than he had been earlier, so we weren't quite convinced of his demise. Amazingly, still no tickets. This from the same group of parking nazis that will ticket the Jestermobile two minutes after the meter has expired. Hmph!
Finally, my manager (same one) called the cops. Again. They showed up. Again. They did not arrest this guy, but he apparently got some stuff out of his car and wandered to the other side of the street to....sit there. And then I went home. For all I know, he and his car (or his buddy's car?) are still sitting on opposite sides of the street from one another, still with about as much spark going. I.e., none.
You almost have to wonder if this guy, as a boy, dreamed about becoming a dirty, drunken, disheveled, shoeless degenerate bum, or if that is just the fast track he found himself on after the corporate CEO gig didn't work out the way he had planned.
CRACK!
A table of mine had a baby in a stroller. At one point, when I was across the dining room from them, the baby was WAILING. LOUDLY. And then suddenly I heard CRACK! Thinking, "They seemed like such nice people, they didn't just smack that kid, did they?!?!?!" I whirled around....
...and realized that the mom had been adjusting the collapsible stroller, and one of the parts had clicked into place rather loudly. I actually told the customers about this, and we all had a good laugh. But man, was that weird there for a moment. Amazing the tricks your mind can play on you.
Server Moment of Zen
My table had ordered our Big Ass Burger, a snapper sandwich, and an order of crab cakes. When I set them down, I got to say the following with an absolutely straight face:
"Here's your Big Ass sir; your snapper, ma'am; and your crabs, sir."
It just might have been the most joyous moment of my server career!
But there WERE some characters.Mr. Beefeater
A guy at one of my tables ordered a Beefeater Martini, straight up. (For those unfamiliar with it, Beefeater is a brand of gin.) I order said martini, bring it to said guy along with the rest of the table's drinks, and go about my job. A few minutes later, I return to the table, and the guy asked me for an empty shot glass. Okay.....for the heck of it, and to humor him, I got an empty shot glass from my bar, much to my coworkers' confusion. I dropped it off at the table. A little bit later, I returned to the table and got to have this lovely conversation...
MR. BEEFEATER: "You might want to tell them to get rid of the gin they have in the Beefeater bottle and pour actual Beefeater's."
JESTER:
"Excuse me?" MR. BEEFEATER: "I know Beefeater. I've been drinking it for years. And I am telling you, THIS is NOT Beefeater."
JESTER: "Sir, I assure you I ordered Beefeater, and I am certain my bartender poured that. If you would like me to have them remake the martini, I can do that."
MR. BEEFEATER: "No, don't worry about it."
Just on a whim, I went to my bartender and asked him if he had, in fact, poured Beefeater. He looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "Of course." So I returned to the table.
JESTER: "Sir, I just talked to my bartender, and he assures me that he poured Beefeater for your martini."
MR. BEEFEATER: "THIS is NOT Beefeater. Here, taste it." At this point he offered me the shot glass, which obviously has some of the martini in it.
JESTER: "Sir, that would do no good. I don't drink gin at all, and I would not be able to tell the difference between Beefeater or any other gin by taste. But I assure you, that is, in fact, Beefeater."
MR. BEEFEATER'S SISTER: "I tasted it, and I don't drink gin. It tastes far too sweet."
MR. BEEFEATER: "See? I told you. You folks are obviously using some OTHER gin in the Beefeater bottle."
JESTER: "Sir, I can't comment on other bars, but I promise you we do NOT switch our liquors."
MR. BEEFEATER'S SISTER: "It tasted wrong. He likes them extra extra dry." This means, of course, that Mr. Beefeater wanted his martini with no vermouth.
JESTER: "But ma'am, he didn't order it extra dry. He just ordered the martini."
MR. BEEFEATER'S SISTER: "Well that's the way he likes it. It is probably the vermouth that is messing everything up."
JESTER: "Sir, you didn't tell me that (he didn't argue this point), but if you would like, I could have my bartender make you the martini the way you like it."
MR. BEEFEATER: "No, we'll just call it even."
I have no idea what he meant by that comment, but I went to my manager and told her the story. We decided to make him an extra extra dry martini....basically just chilled straight Beefeater. I take said drink, walk up to the table and say, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm really not good at following instructions, so we made you a new martini. Here you go." He tasted, he liked it, he thanked me.
Naturally the prick left me a crappy tip after all that.
Note to drinkers: if you say you KNOW what you drink, you should also know HOW to order it. If you don't, you probably should not be accusing the bar of underhanded business practices, like switching liquors and such. Take responsibility for your own actions, or an English guy in a large funny hat may just come along and forcibly sodomize you with a juniper bush.
Okay, maybe not, but a boy can dream, can't he?
Making Up New Names
This happened to my bartender, who we shall call Shane. Shane is one of those large bald white guys. By large I mean basically a walking wall. The kind of guy that even if he doesn't know what he is doing could easily work security at a bar and not have people mess with him. Yeah, one of those guys. So Shane is taking orders from some people at the bar, and an SC walks up and just starts barking stuff out to him...
SC: "Hey, Scooter, get me a rum and coke."
SHANE: "ExCUSE me?"
SC: "I said get me a rum and coke, Scooter."
SHANE: "What's your name, pal?"
SC: "John."
SHANE: "Tell you what, John. Unless you want me making up new names for YOU, MY name is Shane, and that is what I answer to. And I'll get you your drink when I am done with these folks here. Is that fair, John?"
SC: (cowed) "Um, sure, Shane. No problem."
And that was the last time the SC called him anything BUT Shane. The funny part is, this is NOT the type of guy you would think of as a "Scooter."
Some advice to bar patrons: If you don't feel like staying very thirsty a majority of the time you're there, do not make up nicknames for your bartenders. There are only three instances where you should use anything BUT their names:
1. If you don't know their names, and use some respectable address, such as "Sir," "Ma'am," or "Miss." Heck, in a casual place, even "dude" or "darlin'" are preferable.
2. Nicknames they have given themselves. Such as, say, Jester or Rapscallion.
3. Nicknames that show you have nothing but respect for them. "Pardon me, O Beer Goddess, but might I trouble you for a cold brew?" This last one is usually guaranteed to get you remembered AND well served!
My Children Are The Center of the World
This one is actually from before my mini-vacation. We have, at The Bar, an upstairs open air bar/restaurant area, in addition to the main area downstairs. During this slower time of year, it is not open during the day (too hot) and not open some of earlier nights of the week (too dead). A group of about 8 or so, with kids, was at a table, but they weren't mine. Our upstairs was closed at that time. I see two of the kids, about 8, heading up the stairs. I call to them, and tell them that the upstairs is closed. They come back down. One of the women in the group calls me over.
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Don't you have a pool table upstairs?"
JESTER: "Yes we do, ma'am, but the upstairs is closed."
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Well, can't they just go check it out?"
JESTER: "I'm sorry, but no. It's a liability thing."
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Well, how come HE can go up there?" (She indicates my boss going up the stairs.)
JESTER: "Ma'am, he OWNS the place. He can go wherever he wants!"
OVERINDULGING MOM: "Well, then HE can take my boys up there!"
No, darlin', he can't. He has work to do, running a multi-million dollar operation, and as such, he is not, nor should he be, responsible for the safety of your progeny while they are running around unsupervised in an area that is at that time closed to the public. We try to please our customers, yes. But babysitting them and ignoring our own rules for them is not going above and beyond, it is being utterly ridiculous. And it is completely unreasonable for you to expect it of us.
And by the way, might I add that it may not be the best thing to be teaching your offspring that rules can be ignored or overridden at their convenience? It does tend to set a bad example. I just hope these same kids one day put you in a substandard nursing home staffed by fetishistic orderlies, due to their having learned that inconvenient things in life can be ignored.
Drunk, Nasty, and Stupid Is No Way To Go Through Life, Son
My manager found some drunk yahoo idiot peeing in the alley next to our establishment. She told him in no uncertain terms that he could not do that, and he needed to leave. He told her, "Fuck off!" And that, my friends, is when my awesome manager took off the gloves and called the cops. About the same time that two other people called the cops. Apparently, he had been a drunken idiot inside the bar as well.
Now, a lesson for you, boys and girls: when you have just told someone who runs a place to fuck off after you have been urinating on their property and they have obviously called the cops, it might be in your best interest to be anywhere BUT in the vicinity of said place. Of course, giving this guy credit for that would be assuming he had either brains or sobriety, both of which seemed to have been sorely lacking.
The cops showed up soon enough, and eventually arrested the guy. His car was parked right out in front of the bar, at a yellow curb. You know, where you're NOT supposed to park? Well, we figured his car would be heavily ticketed by morning. The next morning, the car was still there, unticketed....and with someone in it. Apparently our first genius's friend. And he was there ALL DAY....from the time we opened till the time we closed. I know this, because I was there that whole time. For a while, we thought the guy might be dead, but at one point, we did notice he was in a different position than he had been earlier, so we weren't quite convinced of his demise. Amazingly, still no tickets. This from the same group of parking nazis that will ticket the Jestermobile two minutes after the meter has expired. Hmph!
Finally, my manager (same one) called the cops. Again. They showed up. Again. They did not arrest this guy, but he apparently got some stuff out of his car and wandered to the other side of the street to....sit there. And then I went home. For all I know, he and his car (or his buddy's car?) are still sitting on opposite sides of the street from one another, still with about as much spark going. I.e., none.
You almost have to wonder if this guy, as a boy, dreamed about becoming a dirty, drunken, disheveled, shoeless degenerate bum, or if that is just the fast track he found himself on after the corporate CEO gig didn't work out the way he had planned.
CRACK!
A table of mine had a baby in a stroller. At one point, when I was across the dining room from them, the baby was WAILING. LOUDLY. And then suddenly I heard CRACK! Thinking, "They seemed like such nice people, they didn't just smack that kid, did they?!?!?!" I whirled around....
...and realized that the mom had been adjusting the collapsible stroller, and one of the parts had clicked into place rather loudly. I actually told the customers about this, and we all had a good laugh. But man, was that weird there for a moment. Amazing the tricks your mind can play on you.
Server Moment of Zen
My table had ordered our Big Ass Burger, a snapper sandwich, and an order of crab cakes. When I set them down, I got to say the following with an absolutely straight face:
"Here's your Big Ass sir; your snapper, ma'am; and your crabs, sir."
It just might have been the most joyous moment of my server career!
)
Just makes ya wanna go clock out right then and there doesn't it? Those moments when everything is in the groove and you've gone above and beyond (in this case, with wit) are what really make up for all the SCs in food service. Like catching a fork as someone drops it, or guessing that Billy-Bob will want another beer when you do your check back and having it on the tray when he answers yes to your question....
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