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So on Monday, I decided to keep a list of all the idiots I encountered this week. And I have four lovely examples. Oddly, all four happened on Monday. Weird, that.
1. As I was walking from my truck to work, I saw this woman get out of her car and walk away. The reason I noticed it was because where she had parked was not really a parking spot. Allow me to explain: right there, there were four parallel parking spots, clearly painted. All four were occupied. In front of the frontmost car's spot was a painted triangle, as you often see at the end of parallel parking spots, where you might park a scooter or motorcycle, but where it is clearly not a spot for a car. Which was precisely where this woman had parked her little red econobox. As I got closer, I could see that she had left a very large note in the windshield. And by large, I mean printed on a windshield sun blocker in huge letters. The note read: "Old Town Trolley New Employee. Thanks!"
In other words, this woman had parked illegally for the day, and figured that simply leaving a note telling the parking enforcement officers that she was a new employee of a particular company would get her off the hook. Riiiiiiight. Talk about entitled. Listen, lady, I too work downtown, and I park my vehicle legally, not expecting the local meter maids to cut me any slack just because I, like thousands of others, just happen to be working downtown. I hope that woman got ticketed or towed, but the one thing I can say for her is that she was not the biggest Idiot of the Week.
2. Four French tourists come in to my bar and sit. I ask for ID's. One of them presents me with a French national ID card. I politely inform her that I can't accept that ID, as under Florida law, I can only accept passports or driver's licenses. (I can also accept U.S. State-issued ID cards and U.S. Armed Forces ID cards, but obviously that is not applicable to this situation.) One of the guys and the woman in question start arguing with me, telling me that "this is the same as a passport." Well no. No it's not. In France, it is the exact same thing! Great. We're not in France. We're in Florida. And I work under Florida law, not French law. Since, again, we are in Florida. When I reiterate that I can only accept a driver's license or a passport, one of the other guys tells me, "Well, my passport is in Miami!" Again, great. And again, completely irrelevant, as where you left your passport has no bearing on the laws I must labor under. I can accept ONLY driver's licenses or passports. If you don't have either of those, I cannot serve you. Period, end of story. And you can argue it all you want, in two languages, but the end result is the same: I work under Florida law, and that supercedes any argument you may have. Thank you, drive safely.
Again, however, these people were not the biggest Idiots of the Week. But man, was my week off to a slammin' start!
3. A guy calls up and orders a burger to be picked up. I ask him which one he wants. He tells me, "the most expensive one." Apparently he had some kind of gift certificate, and wanted to get the most bang for his buck. Oooookay....do you have any preference as to what toppings you want on that burger? As our two most expensive burgers are the same price. Nope, no preference, I can pick. Alrighty then. Clearly flavor took a back seat to value for this guy. In his defense, he was pleasant, cheerful, and tipped well, but man, this was an odd one.
And no, not even close to the winner.
4. The winner: Mitch.
Mitch is a large fellow. And he was wearing a t-shirt that is generally bought by women, as it says on the front "Who needs big tits...", and on the back "...when you have an ass like this?", with an arrow pointing to the body part in question. Which in Mitch's case was considerable. But his taste in fashion did not win him the Idiot of the Week award. No, Mitch did that all on his own.
"What are your Happy Hour specials?"
Um, Happy Hour is over an hour away, I'm afraid.
"Well, can you give me a discount? I'm on a ship!"
And immediately I hate Mitch. Yep, he wants a discount simply because he is on a cruise ship. You know, just like thousands of others every day in this town.
My answer to his request was quite simple: "No."
Having been rebuffed in his attempt at cheapness, Mitch then ordered two Patron margaritas, to go. I made them, placed them in front of him, and placed the bill in front of him; since he's getting drinks to go, clearly he wants to pay immediately.
MITCH: "Can I get a pen?"
JESTER: "Um, what for?" (Though I had a hunch...)
MITCH: "To sign this."
JESTER: "That's just the check. You have not given me a credit card yet, so there is not credit slip to sign." (I was not about to give him a pen so he could sign the check and leave me holding the bill for his two expensive ritas.)
MITCH: "Oh."
And he proceeded to sit there, noticeably NOT reaching for his wallet. I figured I needed to keep a close eye on this guy, as he was either really stupid, really drunk, or both.
At one point, while I was taking care of some glassware, something went whizzing by me. Turns out it was a squeezed lime wedge from one of the aforementioned ritas. Clearly Mitch had aimed for the trash can (though he couldn't possibly see where it was from where he was sitting), and had missed. Badly. Rather than get pissy with him, I thought I'd be funny. "You missed!" My joke was completely ignored. Oh well. I tried!
Shortly thereafter, Mitch gets up and starts leaving.
JESTER: "Sir, you need to pay me for your drinks."
MITCH: "I gave you my credit card."
JESTER: "No. No you didn't."
So Mitch sits down and starts fumbling with the items in his pockets. Trying to find, presumably, his credit card. Now at this point, a couple of customers at the end of the bar had started to notice these shenanigans, and when the lady started to ask me about it, I simply whispered to her, "Wait. I'll tell you all about it once he's gone."
Finally finding his card, Mitch puts it in the check presenter, and I immediately run it. Much to my surprise, the card goes through, so I put the check presenter with his card and his credit slips--and of course a pen--in front of him. But I continue to keep a close eye on him to make sure he (A) signs the slip, and (B) doesn't wander off with the slip. And as I keep my eye on him, I notice that Mitch has, in fact, dozed off.
JESTER: "Sir, you need to wake up." He does.
For a bit, anyways.
JESTER: "Sir, you need to wake up. You can't sleep at the bar." And he does.
For a bit.
When he does it a third time, I am done with this joker.
JESTER: "Hey buddy! It's time to go!"
Being roused yet again, this time Mitch picks up his ritas, spilling half of them on the bar, and wanders out of the bar with only one of them. Finally, we are free of him! I pick up the check presenter, and lo and behold, the credit slip is in there, signed! No tip, of course (I wasn't even vaguely surprised by that), but he did leave behind his AAA card. (This is how we knew his name.) Well, it could be worse for him. He could have left behind his credit card. But since he's heading back to the cruise ship, at least we're now done with him.
And I tell the whole story to the couple at the end of the bar, also explaining that, if I had known he was that fucking hammered from the beginning, I never would have served him. But the couple agrees with me that he seemed more lucid when he had first walked in. And they tell me something I missed....when he walked out, he dumped his remaining rita in the trash. I point out that that was probably the smartest thing he did the whole time.
A few minutes later, my manager asks me, "Hey Jester, that guy who left his card behind...was he a real big guy?" Yeah....why do you ask? My manager pointed.
Sure enough, across the street, sitting on a little brick planter, was Mitch. Dozing. His head on his chest. We all start laughing. Especially since, by our calculations, he has less than an hour to get back on the cruise ship before it leaves him.
So my manager walks across the street, wakes Mitch up, and returns his AAA card to him. Which Mitch accepts....and then moments later, is dozing again. My manager thinks he may have been puking in his lap, too.
So now, since the dining room and the bar are both really slow (I had the couple and one other guy sitting at the bar), the entire staff is just standing there, watching Mitch, and watching passersby as they walk past him, staring at the passed out drunk guy. This is definitely the floor show!
My manager happens to be a bit of a fun-loving asshole, and for sporting events, he has an air horn he keeps at the bar. I remind him of this, and he gets that spark in his eye. So Manager walks across the street and nonchalantly walks by Mitch, giving two quick blasts on the (VERY LOUD) air horn. Mitch looks up, startled....and then goes back to his alcoholic slumber. Lather, rinse, repeat a couple of times. Around this time, the couple at the bar pays and leaves, chuckling about poor ole Mitch.
Cue the local constabulary. Two police cruisers roll up, and the officers approach Mitch. After some effort, they rouse him, and start asking him questions. He produces ID, and they talk. (Being across the street, we were not privy to the actual conversation.) Finally they get him on his rather unsteady feet, and hail a cab for him, to take him the 2 blocks to the cruise ship, since I don't think they felt he could make it on his own.
This amused me and the rest of the staff to no end, as the cab could take him down the street, but he would still have to walk the length of the pier to get to the actual ship; that walk is about equivalent to another full block. We were betting against Mitch's ability to manage that feat.
But apparently, he did! The couple that had left my bar came back later to tell me that they had actually been down at the pier, and saw when Mitch stumbled down the pier, asking everyone where the ship was. This is in itself amusing, since cruise ships are HUGE, and if you are anywhere near the pier, they take up the entire western sky. It would be the equivalent of being in a stadium parking lot, walking towards the stadium, and asking people where the stadium is. Yeah....that big and obvious.
And it was apparently a close call, as the ship was paging Mitch and another party that almost missed the ship. They were off shopping and lost track of time, which to me is a far worse excuse than Mitch; after all, he was stumbling, passing out, hammered! They were just shopping.
But Mitch, somehow, some way, made it back on to the cruise ship, and sailed for other ports, to disturb other bartenders, and make a general fool of himself wherever he went, I'm sure.
So wherever you are, Mitch, and if you're awake, congratulations! You, sir, are without question and without contest the Idiot of the Week!
1. As I was walking from my truck to work, I saw this woman get out of her car and walk away. The reason I noticed it was because where she had parked was not really a parking spot. Allow me to explain: right there, there were four parallel parking spots, clearly painted. All four were occupied. In front of the frontmost car's spot was a painted triangle, as you often see at the end of parallel parking spots, where you might park a scooter or motorcycle, but where it is clearly not a spot for a car. Which was precisely where this woman had parked her little red econobox. As I got closer, I could see that she had left a very large note in the windshield. And by large, I mean printed on a windshield sun blocker in huge letters. The note read: "Old Town Trolley New Employee. Thanks!"
In other words, this woman had parked illegally for the day, and figured that simply leaving a note telling the parking enforcement officers that she was a new employee of a particular company would get her off the hook. Riiiiiiight. Talk about entitled. Listen, lady, I too work downtown, and I park my vehicle legally, not expecting the local meter maids to cut me any slack just because I, like thousands of others, just happen to be working downtown. I hope that woman got ticketed or towed, but the one thing I can say for her is that she was not the biggest Idiot of the Week.
2. Four French tourists come in to my bar and sit. I ask for ID's. One of them presents me with a French national ID card. I politely inform her that I can't accept that ID, as under Florida law, I can only accept passports or driver's licenses. (I can also accept U.S. State-issued ID cards and U.S. Armed Forces ID cards, but obviously that is not applicable to this situation.) One of the guys and the woman in question start arguing with me, telling me that "this is the same as a passport." Well no. No it's not. In France, it is the exact same thing! Great. We're not in France. We're in Florida. And I work under Florida law, not French law. Since, again, we are in Florida. When I reiterate that I can only accept a driver's license or a passport, one of the other guys tells me, "Well, my passport is in Miami!" Again, great. And again, completely irrelevant, as where you left your passport has no bearing on the laws I must labor under. I can accept ONLY driver's licenses or passports. If you don't have either of those, I cannot serve you. Period, end of story. And you can argue it all you want, in two languages, but the end result is the same: I work under Florida law, and that supercedes any argument you may have. Thank you, drive safely.
Again, however, these people were not the biggest Idiots of the Week. But man, was my week off to a slammin' start!
3. A guy calls up and orders a burger to be picked up. I ask him which one he wants. He tells me, "the most expensive one." Apparently he had some kind of gift certificate, and wanted to get the most bang for his buck. Oooookay....do you have any preference as to what toppings you want on that burger? As our two most expensive burgers are the same price. Nope, no preference, I can pick. Alrighty then. Clearly flavor took a back seat to value for this guy. In his defense, he was pleasant, cheerful, and tipped well, but man, this was an odd one.
And no, not even close to the winner.
4. The winner: Mitch.
Mitch is a large fellow. And he was wearing a t-shirt that is generally bought by women, as it says on the front "Who needs big tits...", and on the back "...when you have an ass like this?", with an arrow pointing to the body part in question. Which in Mitch's case was considerable. But his taste in fashion did not win him the Idiot of the Week award. No, Mitch did that all on his own.
"What are your Happy Hour specials?"
Um, Happy Hour is over an hour away, I'm afraid.
"Well, can you give me a discount? I'm on a ship!"
And immediately I hate Mitch. Yep, he wants a discount simply because he is on a cruise ship. You know, just like thousands of others every day in this town.
My answer to his request was quite simple: "No."
Having been rebuffed in his attempt at cheapness, Mitch then ordered two Patron margaritas, to go. I made them, placed them in front of him, and placed the bill in front of him; since he's getting drinks to go, clearly he wants to pay immediately.
MITCH: "Can I get a pen?"
JESTER: "Um, what for?" (Though I had a hunch...)
MITCH: "To sign this."
JESTER: "That's just the check. You have not given me a credit card yet, so there is not credit slip to sign." (I was not about to give him a pen so he could sign the check and leave me holding the bill for his two expensive ritas.)
MITCH: "Oh."
And he proceeded to sit there, noticeably NOT reaching for his wallet. I figured I needed to keep a close eye on this guy, as he was either really stupid, really drunk, or both.
At one point, while I was taking care of some glassware, something went whizzing by me. Turns out it was a squeezed lime wedge from one of the aforementioned ritas. Clearly Mitch had aimed for the trash can (though he couldn't possibly see where it was from where he was sitting), and had missed. Badly. Rather than get pissy with him, I thought I'd be funny. "You missed!" My joke was completely ignored. Oh well. I tried!
Shortly thereafter, Mitch gets up and starts leaving.
JESTER: "Sir, you need to pay me for your drinks."
MITCH: "I gave you my credit card."
JESTER: "No. No you didn't."
So Mitch sits down and starts fumbling with the items in his pockets. Trying to find, presumably, his credit card. Now at this point, a couple of customers at the end of the bar had started to notice these shenanigans, and when the lady started to ask me about it, I simply whispered to her, "Wait. I'll tell you all about it once he's gone."
Finally finding his card, Mitch puts it in the check presenter, and I immediately run it. Much to my surprise, the card goes through, so I put the check presenter with his card and his credit slips--and of course a pen--in front of him. But I continue to keep a close eye on him to make sure he (A) signs the slip, and (B) doesn't wander off with the slip. And as I keep my eye on him, I notice that Mitch has, in fact, dozed off.
JESTER: "Sir, you need to wake up." He does.
For a bit, anyways.
JESTER: "Sir, you need to wake up. You can't sleep at the bar." And he does.
For a bit.
When he does it a third time, I am done with this joker.
JESTER: "Hey buddy! It's time to go!"
Being roused yet again, this time Mitch picks up his ritas, spilling half of them on the bar, and wanders out of the bar with only one of them. Finally, we are free of him! I pick up the check presenter, and lo and behold, the credit slip is in there, signed! No tip, of course (I wasn't even vaguely surprised by that), but he did leave behind his AAA card. (This is how we knew his name.) Well, it could be worse for him. He could have left behind his credit card. But since he's heading back to the cruise ship, at least we're now done with him.
And I tell the whole story to the couple at the end of the bar, also explaining that, if I had known he was that fucking hammered from the beginning, I never would have served him. But the couple agrees with me that he seemed more lucid when he had first walked in. And they tell me something I missed....when he walked out, he dumped his remaining rita in the trash. I point out that that was probably the smartest thing he did the whole time.
A few minutes later, my manager asks me, "Hey Jester, that guy who left his card behind...was he a real big guy?" Yeah....why do you ask? My manager pointed.
Sure enough, across the street, sitting on a little brick planter, was Mitch. Dozing. His head on his chest. We all start laughing. Especially since, by our calculations, he has less than an hour to get back on the cruise ship before it leaves him.
So my manager walks across the street, wakes Mitch up, and returns his AAA card to him. Which Mitch accepts....and then moments later, is dozing again. My manager thinks he may have been puking in his lap, too.
So now, since the dining room and the bar are both really slow (I had the couple and one other guy sitting at the bar), the entire staff is just standing there, watching Mitch, and watching passersby as they walk past him, staring at the passed out drunk guy. This is definitely the floor show!
My manager happens to be a bit of a fun-loving asshole, and for sporting events, he has an air horn he keeps at the bar. I remind him of this, and he gets that spark in his eye. So Manager walks across the street and nonchalantly walks by Mitch, giving two quick blasts on the (VERY LOUD) air horn. Mitch looks up, startled....and then goes back to his alcoholic slumber. Lather, rinse, repeat a couple of times. Around this time, the couple at the bar pays and leaves, chuckling about poor ole Mitch.
Cue the local constabulary. Two police cruisers roll up, and the officers approach Mitch. After some effort, they rouse him, and start asking him questions. He produces ID, and they talk. (Being across the street, we were not privy to the actual conversation.) Finally they get him on his rather unsteady feet, and hail a cab for him, to take him the 2 blocks to the cruise ship, since I don't think they felt he could make it on his own.
This amused me and the rest of the staff to no end, as the cab could take him down the street, but he would still have to walk the length of the pier to get to the actual ship; that walk is about equivalent to another full block. We were betting against Mitch's ability to manage that feat.
But apparently, he did! The couple that had left my bar came back later to tell me that they had actually been down at the pier, and saw when Mitch stumbled down the pier, asking everyone where the ship was. This is in itself amusing, since cruise ships are HUGE, and if you are anywhere near the pier, they take up the entire western sky. It would be the equivalent of being in a stadium parking lot, walking towards the stadium, and asking people where the stadium is. Yeah....that big and obvious.
And it was apparently a close call, as the ship was paging Mitch and another party that almost missed the ship. They were off shopping and lost track of time, which to me is a far worse excuse than Mitch; after all, he was stumbling, passing out, hammered! They were just shopping.
But Mitch, somehow, some way, made it back on to the cruise ship, and sailed for other ports, to disturb other bartenders, and make a general fool of himself wherever he went, I'm sure.
So wherever you are, Mitch, and if you're awake, congratulations! You, sir, are without question and without contest the Idiot of the Week!
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