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Every single customer I dealt with today was over the age of 75. The only sane conclusion I can come to is that there must have been a mass breakout at a local old people’s home.
I was walking up to the entrance to the pub when a group of four old ladies approached the door. I held the door open and let them in. Their leader spoke to the rest of them.
OL: Here we are. I told you it was really posh and fancy in here.
They keenly mumbled in agreement.
OK, she wasn’t sucky, but I am now really curious as to what she finds so “posh and fancy” about us. Don’t get me wrong, the pub is not a dive and it serves good grub, but I would never ever use those words. Could it be:
The fact that the pubs name has the word “Pub” in its title?
The lack of tablecloths, napkins and flowers?
No table service?
The gambling machines?
The loud contemporary music blasting at an unreasonably high level?
The patchy walls and worn down carpet that are in desperate need of replacing and touching up?
The dimly lit corner where all the local alcoholics are gathered, who are incapable of completing a sentence without using the word “fuck” half a dozen times?
Yeah, we’re fancy.
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I’m walking to the bar when I hear:
SC: Kevin? Excuse me? Kevin? Kevin? Kevin?
Assuming he is talking to someone else, I carry on walking.
SC: Kevin? KEVIN? KE-VIN!?
Me: I’m sorry, are you talking to me?
SC: Of course I was Kevin!
My name is not Kevin. Not even close. And none of the staff are called Kevin.
Me: Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know. My name isn’t Kevin.
SC: Don’t talk to me like that. I’ve been coming here for years. I want to place an order Kevin.
I had never seen him before.
Me: If you go to the bar, they will help you out right away.
SC: Thank you Kevin.
Me: Again, my name is not Kevin.
I walk on to the bar and ask who was next.
SC: Kevin! Serve me Kevin! Kevin! Over here! Kevin!
Me: *sigh*
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I served two ladies four coffees.
Me: Would you like a tray for your drinks? Makes it a little easier to carry.
L: Oh yes please.
I give them the tray and serve the next customer, who orders two drinks.
C: Can I also have a tray?
Me: Yeah, sure.
I sort him out a tray. Suddenly, like sheep, each customer afterwards decided to copy. People were asking for trays to carry one drink. The trays are normally reserved for large rounds, and are capable of carrying 12 pints as well as shots, so it looked ridiculously stupid having customers wandering around with a single small gin and tonic on a large black tray. And then of course, we ran out!
SC: What do you mean I can’t have a tray!? Everyone else got one!
Me: I am afraid they are all out at the minute.
SC: Well how the hell am I supposed to carry this?
I had to bite my tongue before I said “With your hands.”
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A man came in to perform a service on our coffee machine. About time, as the coffee it has been making isn’t fit for prisons. This meant that the coffee machine had to go offline…for 30 whole minutes.
Did you guys see it on the news? Our coffee machine was out of service! Well, judging from some of the reactions we got, it was certainly newsworthy!
SC: What?! Where’s the sign?
The machine was literally in bits around the back station and there was a loud drilling noise. It couldn’t have been more clearer.
SC: You have made me walk outside for nothing!
SC: This is an outrage! I demand to speak to the manager!
SC: I really could cry right now.
SC: When will it be on again?
Me: I really don’t know at the minute.
SC: When?
Me: I don’t know.
SC: When?
SC: You know what, forget it. FORGET IT. FOR-GET IT. I hope something really bad happens to your family.
SC: Why can’t I get a coffee Kevin?
SC: How fucking dare you.
Remember when I said that every customer I dealt with was over the age of 75? That still stands.
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This kind of carries on from the coffee machine. Old man came up to the bar.
OM: Can I have a latte please?
Me: I’m afraid our coffee machine is being serviced at the minute. Is there anything else I can get you?
OM: Noooo. No. No. Noooooo. That’s not good enough. I will have a pint of lager instead. And I would like to order fish and chips.
Me: OK, so your total is £x.xx.
Om: Nooo. No. No. Noooooo. That’s not the right price.
Me: Yes it is. Fish and chips, £x.xx and lager £x.xx. Total £x.xx.
OM: Nooo. No. No. Noooooo. Fine, I will have it then.
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Old Lady came up to be served afterwards.
OL: I would like to order the pasta.
Me: OK.
OL: I’m not happy with these prices.
Me: *ignoring comment* Your total is £x.xx.
She pays.
OL: I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want it anymore. I want to leave.
Me: Right. I will just tell the kitchen not to cook that meal and then I will get you a refund.
I do so. I process the refund and give her the money back. I literally place the money in her hand and she says:
OL: Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I do want it.
Me: Are you sure?
OL: Why wouldn’t I be sure?
Me: *half way through ringing it in*
OL: Actually…
Me: *gives death glare*
OL: No. I will stick to it. I will have it.
I ring it through and run to the kitchen and tell them to put it together as quickly as possible, just so she can’t change her mind again. I walk out and she is at the kitchen door.
OL: Actually, I think I would rather order the fish.
Me: I’m afraid your meal is already cooking. It can’t be changed at this time.
OL: *walks off muttering* Why do they always have to be so difficult?
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I was in the middle of serving yet another old man at the bar.
Me: OK, and your total is-
Old man stuck one of his legs out to the side, and let out one of the most disgusting sounding farts I have ever heard. It was completely deliberate. He carried on looking at me as if he hadn’t done anything.
Me: One moment.
I grabbed a cloth and completed his order with it around my mouth and nose. I was determined to show him up for the disgusting old shit that he was.
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I go to clear a couples table.
SC: We would like our desserts please.
Me: Sure thing. I will let the kitchen know you are ready.
SC: OK. We’re in no rush though. Take your time.
I go to the kitchen and let them know. They are very busy so I go out and speak to the customers.
Me: Your desserts will be with you in the next five to ten minutes.
SC: Oh that’s OK. Like I said, we’re in no rush.
They sound nice don’t they?
I clear another table and walk past them again. It has been less than 30 seconds since we last spoke.
SC: Are they ready yet?
Me: Like I said, it will be around five to ten minutes.
SC: Oh sorry. We just wanted to know. We’re not in a rush.
I walked away. I heard them pull a co-worker over.
SC: *to co-worker* Can you check on our desserts? We have been waiting ages.
CW: Sure.
CW walks into the kitchen, walks out and tells them the exact same thing I did. He does not look impressed. He calls me over right away.
SC: Any update on our desserts?
SC2: We’ve been waiting forever!
Me: I will just go check with the kitchen.
I go into the kitchen and ask them to move their desserts to the front of the line so that I can get them off my case. Kitchen agrees and makes them a priority.
Me: They will be with you momentarily. The kitchen is a little bit busy at the moment.
SC: *laughs* Yeah right!
I turn around. I hear him call over CW.
SC: Where are our desserts?!?! Get in there and find out!!
I can’t stress enough that less than two minutes have passed since he initially asked for them. The height of impatience.
CW: They are making them right now.
SC: This is absolutely ridiculous.
CW: They are rather busy at the moment.
SC: Don’t make us laugh. You people don’t know the meaning of the word. I work in restaurants when I was your age, and I had to serve hundreds of people on my own with no help, and that was cooking, serving and clearing! We were lucky if we were even allowed to wear shoes!
I swear, he actually said that. CW walked off and returned with the desserts a few seconds later.
CW: You’re in my day now.
She slammed them down and walked away.
I was walking up to the entrance to the pub when a group of four old ladies approached the door. I held the door open and let them in. Their leader spoke to the rest of them.
OL: Here we are. I told you it was really posh and fancy in here.
They keenly mumbled in agreement.
OK, she wasn’t sucky, but I am now really curious as to what she finds so “posh and fancy” about us. Don’t get me wrong, the pub is not a dive and it serves good grub, but I would never ever use those words. Could it be:
The fact that the pubs name has the word “Pub” in its title?
The lack of tablecloths, napkins and flowers?
No table service?
The gambling machines?
The loud contemporary music blasting at an unreasonably high level?
The patchy walls and worn down carpet that are in desperate need of replacing and touching up?
The dimly lit corner where all the local alcoholics are gathered, who are incapable of completing a sentence without using the word “fuck” half a dozen times?
Yeah, we’re fancy.
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I’m walking to the bar when I hear:
SC: Kevin? Excuse me? Kevin? Kevin? Kevin?
Assuming he is talking to someone else, I carry on walking.
SC: Kevin? KEVIN? KE-VIN!?
Me: I’m sorry, are you talking to me?
SC: Of course I was Kevin!
My name is not Kevin. Not even close. And none of the staff are called Kevin.
Me: Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know. My name isn’t Kevin.
SC: Don’t talk to me like that. I’ve been coming here for years. I want to place an order Kevin.
I had never seen him before.
Me: If you go to the bar, they will help you out right away.
SC: Thank you Kevin.
Me: Again, my name is not Kevin.
I walk on to the bar and ask who was next.
SC: Kevin! Serve me Kevin! Kevin! Over here! Kevin!
Me: *sigh*
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I served two ladies four coffees.
Me: Would you like a tray for your drinks? Makes it a little easier to carry.
L: Oh yes please.
I give them the tray and serve the next customer, who orders two drinks.
C: Can I also have a tray?
Me: Yeah, sure.
I sort him out a tray. Suddenly, like sheep, each customer afterwards decided to copy. People were asking for trays to carry one drink. The trays are normally reserved for large rounds, and are capable of carrying 12 pints as well as shots, so it looked ridiculously stupid having customers wandering around with a single small gin and tonic on a large black tray. And then of course, we ran out!
SC: What do you mean I can’t have a tray!? Everyone else got one!
Me: I am afraid they are all out at the minute.
SC: Well how the hell am I supposed to carry this?
I had to bite my tongue before I said “With your hands.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A man came in to perform a service on our coffee machine. About time, as the coffee it has been making isn’t fit for prisons. This meant that the coffee machine had to go offline…for 30 whole minutes.
Did you guys see it on the news? Our coffee machine was out of service! Well, judging from some of the reactions we got, it was certainly newsworthy!
SC: What?! Where’s the sign?
The machine was literally in bits around the back station and there was a loud drilling noise. It couldn’t have been more clearer.
SC: You have made me walk outside for nothing!
SC: This is an outrage! I demand to speak to the manager!
SC: I really could cry right now.
SC: When will it be on again?
Me: I really don’t know at the minute.
SC: When?
Me: I don’t know.
SC: When?
SC: You know what, forget it. FORGET IT. FOR-GET IT. I hope something really bad happens to your family.
SC: Why can’t I get a coffee Kevin?
SC: How fucking dare you.
Remember when I said that every customer I dealt with was over the age of 75? That still stands.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This kind of carries on from the coffee machine. Old man came up to the bar.
OM: Can I have a latte please?
Me: I’m afraid our coffee machine is being serviced at the minute. Is there anything else I can get you?
OM: Noooo. No. No. Noooooo. That’s not good enough. I will have a pint of lager instead. And I would like to order fish and chips.
Me: OK, so your total is £x.xx.
Om: Nooo. No. No. Noooooo. That’s not the right price.
Me: Yes it is. Fish and chips, £x.xx and lager £x.xx. Total £x.xx.
OM: Nooo. No. No. Noooooo. Fine, I will have it then.
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Old Lady came up to be served afterwards.
OL: I would like to order the pasta.
Me: OK.
OL: I’m not happy with these prices.
Me: *ignoring comment* Your total is £x.xx.
She pays.
OL: I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want it anymore. I want to leave.
Me: Right. I will just tell the kitchen not to cook that meal and then I will get you a refund.
I do so. I process the refund and give her the money back. I literally place the money in her hand and she says:
OL: Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I do want it.
Me: Are you sure?
OL: Why wouldn’t I be sure?
Me: *half way through ringing it in*
OL: Actually…
Me: *gives death glare*
OL: No. I will stick to it. I will have it.
I ring it through and run to the kitchen and tell them to put it together as quickly as possible, just so she can’t change her mind again. I walk out and she is at the kitchen door.
OL: Actually, I think I would rather order the fish.
Me: I’m afraid your meal is already cooking. It can’t be changed at this time.
OL: *walks off muttering* Why do they always have to be so difficult?
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I was in the middle of serving yet another old man at the bar.
Me: OK, and your total is-
Old man stuck one of his legs out to the side, and let out one of the most disgusting sounding farts I have ever heard. It was completely deliberate. He carried on looking at me as if he hadn’t done anything.
Me: One moment.
I grabbed a cloth and completed his order with it around my mouth and nose. I was determined to show him up for the disgusting old shit that he was.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I go to clear a couples table.
SC: We would like our desserts please.
Me: Sure thing. I will let the kitchen know you are ready.
SC: OK. We’re in no rush though. Take your time.
I go to the kitchen and let them know. They are very busy so I go out and speak to the customers.
Me: Your desserts will be with you in the next five to ten minutes.
SC: Oh that’s OK. Like I said, we’re in no rush.
They sound nice don’t they?
I clear another table and walk past them again. It has been less than 30 seconds since we last spoke.
SC: Are they ready yet?
Me: Like I said, it will be around five to ten minutes.
SC: Oh sorry. We just wanted to know. We’re not in a rush.
I walked away. I heard them pull a co-worker over.
SC: *to co-worker* Can you check on our desserts? We have been waiting ages.
CW: Sure.
CW walks into the kitchen, walks out and tells them the exact same thing I did. He does not look impressed. He calls me over right away.
SC: Any update on our desserts?
SC2: We’ve been waiting forever!
Me: I will just go check with the kitchen.
I go into the kitchen and ask them to move their desserts to the front of the line so that I can get them off my case. Kitchen agrees and makes them a priority.
Me: They will be with you momentarily. The kitchen is a little bit busy at the moment.
SC: *laughs* Yeah right!
I turn around. I hear him call over CW.
SC: Where are our desserts?!?! Get in there and find out!!
I can’t stress enough that less than two minutes have passed since he initially asked for them. The height of impatience.
CW: They are making them right now.
SC: This is absolutely ridiculous.
CW: They are rather busy at the moment.
SC: Don’t make us laugh. You people don’t know the meaning of the word. I work in restaurants when I was your age, and I had to serve hundreds of people on my own with no help, and that was cooking, serving and clearing! We were lucky if we were even allowed to wear shoes!
I swear, he actually said that. CW walked off and returned with the desserts a few seconds later.
CW: You’re in my day now.
She slammed them down and walked away.
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