September 2013

Pants On Fire!

So, I show up to work yesterday and who is sitting at the bar trying to get all chummy with the regulars? Super psycho drunk chick with what I can only describe as an identity disorder, either that or she has Pants On Fire syndrome, as in the liar, liar type. I have 86’d her twice, and after being cussed at and left hanging with a tab both times, I didn’t feel like taking on that much crazy again. Her past stories involve having about ten different careers, owning five houses and giving me a credit card to pay for the drinks that may not have even been hers.

The Losing Battle

Hey, don’t look down your nose at me and call me “just a bartender” because I won’t serve your drunken girlfriend a drink. Once you start cussing at me the gloves are off asshole, and you will not win. That means no drink, no politeness and you are out the door. You want to be better than me and treat me like the help? Well, I’m sorry, just because you were drinking at one of the many overdone events here in town that does not give you the right to treat the people that are working in town like they owe you something. Act like an asshole, get treated like an asshole.