Remember me?
This trio sidles up to the bar. Two of them speak no English. The third lady has a slight accent, and acts like we're old friends. "Hey, you shaved your beard!" Uh, hi. Okay, so maybe she's been in here before. I'll go with it. And then she asks me, "Hey, what was that beer I tried last time?" Huh? What? "You know, that one beer, it was kind of Christmasy." I have no idea what you're talking about, lady. "Sure you do, you let me try this one beer, I said it tasted kind of like a holiday drink." I have no memory of any of this. Seriously. "I was in here about a month or two ago...."
And now it all makes sense. SHE assumes that I remember each and every person I have any interaction with at my bar, even if it was one time for a few minutes back in April. Listen, lady, I deal with tons of people every day. And I enjoy my fair share of drink. If you think I am going to remember you from your one visit several weeks ago, and you were not a young, semi-naked chick in a bikini that I wanted to lick the sweat off of, you are out of your fucking mind. Get off this self-important streak you're on, look at the fucking beer menu, and maybe together we can figure out what the hell you're thirsting for.
Hey, Batter Batter. Swwwiiiiinnngg, Batter!
A couple walks in to the bar. The dude is not wearing a shirt. This is against health code, as we are an inside bar. My manager is at the door and tells the dude he needs to be wearing a shirt. The dude tells my manager he doesn't have a shirt, but he is only getting some drinks to go, and he'll put a towel over his shoulders.
Douchebag Strike #1.
He walks up to the bar and orders two draft beers. I ask for the girl's ID, because she looks young. "Oh, she's not drinking," says he. Riiiight. Okay, I have ordered two beers for myself at a time, and we don't have laws against someone buying two beers, even if they are with someone underage/without ID, so fine, we'll go with that. And then, for $8 in beer, the guy pays me with a hundred dollar bill.
Douchebag Strike #2.
Fine, whatever. I give him his change, which this early in the day consists of a LOT of 5's and 10's. And then, each of them pick up a beer as they prepare to leave. I stop them cold. "I'm sorry, I can't have her walking out of here with that beer if I don't see her ID." Naturally, she doesn't have it with her, so he takes both beers in his hands. As he's leaving, he shoots back, "It's okay. She's 23." No, dipshit, it's not okay. If she doesn't have her ID, and I've asked her for it, it is definitely not okay for her to be walking out of my bar with a beer I've poured.
Douchebag Strike #3.
And you're out of here!
Virtually Every Day
SC: "I'd like some rum."
JESTER: "And is there a particular rum you'd like? We do have over 150 of them."
SC: "Bring me a good one."

I especially love the people who say, "Bring me your BEST rum." To which I tell them, "That would be Pyrat Cask 1623, a lovely 40 year blend from the British West Indies island of Anguilla. It's $50 a shot." While this is okay with a small number of people, most people give me the
face, then say something along the lines of, "Okay, well bring me your best TEN DOLLAR rum."

The above people and other assorted idiots I get to deal with do not make my job hell. They merely annoy me. Luckily for me, they are balanced by the wonderful people who know how to act in a bar, even the rowdy ones, who have fun, tip well, and generally don't act like rabid retarded rhinoceroses.
This trio sidles up to the bar. Two of them speak no English. The third lady has a slight accent, and acts like we're old friends. "Hey, you shaved your beard!" Uh, hi. Okay, so maybe she's been in here before. I'll go with it. And then she asks me, "Hey, what was that beer I tried last time?" Huh? What? "You know, that one beer, it was kind of Christmasy." I have no idea what you're talking about, lady. "Sure you do, you let me try this one beer, I said it tasted kind of like a holiday drink." I have no memory of any of this. Seriously. "I was in here about a month or two ago...."
And now it all makes sense. SHE assumes that I remember each and every person I have any interaction with at my bar, even if it was one time for a few minutes back in April. Listen, lady, I deal with tons of people every day. And I enjoy my fair share of drink. If you think I am going to remember you from your one visit several weeks ago, and you were not a young, semi-naked chick in a bikini that I wanted to lick the sweat off of, you are out of your fucking mind. Get off this self-important streak you're on, look at the fucking beer menu, and maybe together we can figure out what the hell you're thirsting for.
Hey, Batter Batter. Swwwiiiiinnngg, Batter!
A couple walks in to the bar. The dude is not wearing a shirt. This is against health code, as we are an inside bar. My manager is at the door and tells the dude he needs to be wearing a shirt. The dude tells my manager he doesn't have a shirt, but he is only getting some drinks to go, and he'll put a towel over his shoulders.
Douchebag Strike #1.
He walks up to the bar and orders two draft beers. I ask for the girl's ID, because she looks young. "Oh, she's not drinking," says he. Riiiight. Okay, I have ordered two beers for myself at a time, and we don't have laws against someone buying two beers, even if they are with someone underage/without ID, so fine, we'll go with that. And then, for $8 in beer, the guy pays me with a hundred dollar bill.
Douchebag Strike #2.
Fine, whatever. I give him his change, which this early in the day consists of a LOT of 5's and 10's. And then, each of them pick up a beer as they prepare to leave. I stop them cold. "I'm sorry, I can't have her walking out of here with that beer if I don't see her ID." Naturally, she doesn't have it with her, so he takes both beers in his hands. As he's leaving, he shoots back, "It's okay. She's 23." No, dipshit, it's not okay. If she doesn't have her ID, and I've asked her for it, it is definitely not okay for her to be walking out of my bar with a beer I've poured.
Douchebag Strike #3.
And you're out of here!
Virtually Every Day
SC: "I'd like some rum."
JESTER: "And is there a particular rum you'd like? We do have over 150 of them."
SC: "Bring me a good one."

I especially love the people who say, "Bring me your BEST rum." To which I tell them, "That would be Pyrat Cask 1623, a lovely 40 year blend from the British West Indies island of Anguilla. It's $50 a shot." While this is okay with a small number of people, most people give me the


The above people and other assorted idiots I get to deal with do not make my job hell. They merely annoy me. Luckily for me, they are balanced by the wonderful people who know how to act in a bar, even the rowdy ones, who have fun, tip well, and generally don't act like rabid retarded rhinoceroses.
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