Hey Man, Is That Really You?

One of the more interesting parts of my job is checking people’s IDs. You get to meet people from all over the country, and the world for that matter by simply needing to know if they are old enough to be in your bar. I’ve seen passports from all over the world and driver’s licenses from every state that can lead into some interesting conversations and make people feel more comfortable. Last night however I had several scenarios where people were either being shysters about the existence of an ID or it was just not acceptable. The first person was the classic “just got out of prison” guy with a prison ID with the excuse “Dude, I just got out and this is all I got. I aint even got a chance to get no ID yet.” Sorry but we don’t accept those and if your PO found out you were at the bar you just might get yourself into a bit of a problem. The second situation was the classic “Oh, I left it in the car, I’ll be right back.” and I never saw them again. The last one was a girl with a large group of friends, half of which I was not looking forward to having to cut off because they were already shitfaced and could hardly walk. When she handed me her ID it was in six pieces and held together by about two feet of scotch tape. I didn’t even bother to look at the date and just handed it back to her and told her I could not accept it. Of course someone in the group had to pull out the old “Dude, sorry about all the money you’re missing out on, we’ll just have to spend it somewhere else I guess!” Of course they get my canned response “Have a good night!” with a smile, always a smile. I could go into the laws and policies with these types of people, but I figure they’re going to think I’m an asshole anyway so why bother, I know why, it’s so I get to keep my job, that’s why. Besides, if I didn’t, what would I have to write about?

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Buck Go Smash!

Hey Drunkie! Just a reminder, when you order food and I tell you that that is not available anymore because the menu has changed to the late night menu then you try to order the same thing a different way THAT is what’s called a dick move. You obviously didn’t notice the vein in my forehead bulging out after you ran me through the paces and tried ordering off of the whole menu after I told you what part of the menu you could order from three times, keeping me from the other customers at the bar who were waiting to be served. You should thank your lucky stars that my co-worker noticed the steam coming out of my ears and took over, quite seamlessly I might add, by coming over and asking me to help her with a drink. Otherwise it could have ended up with me calling you some colorful names that would have been very well constructed and lost on you because of the fact that you would not be able to remember them the next day, thusly robbing me of pissing you off as much as you frustrated me. In the end it was best for both of us that your white knight came swooping in to save the day, even though you tipped her shit and left your to go box on the counter when you left. It’s a funny thing, I do my best to keep my cool at work, and unfortunately some people have a special way of bringing out the Bruce Banner in me. It’s an interesting circumstance that we have the same initials and both turn into monsters after being pushed too far.

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Should Santa Be On The Naughty List?

Santa Clause is a philanderer. Why would I say such a thing you might ask? Well, this may be an educated guess, but I think Santa’s illegitimate children here in town got together for a meet and greet last night. After all, he does get around all over the globe and sneaks undetected into people’s homes all the time then disappears after he leaves his presents. Would it be so farfetched to think he didn’t get a little action on the side? I think not. All the little bastards (proper use of the word here, not a derogatory slur) came dressed like their dad in sloppy loose fitting red garb, some complete with beards and the girls in skanky girl Santa outfits. The thing that I couldn’t figure out was the fact that the temperature last night was negative twenty (no kidding) and the guys were all bundled up, complete with long johns, gloves and boots, while the girls were prancing around (just a select few) with their egg-nog jugs hanging out looking like little Ho, Ho, Ho’s. Now, would Santa put his own kids on the naughty list? After some of the things I saw last night, I would hope so. Some of them definitely made my list.

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Thanks, But No Thanks

People like to show their gratitude in a number of different ways when you work in a bar. There is the usual “thank you” the people that like to tip and occasionally a nice drunk girl will flash you her tits, whether you want to see them or not (no, sorry guys, that did not happen last night). However many different ways people like to say thank you for the good times I am always appreciative. Then there was that one woman last night that caught me off guard. She was a bit older and definitely way past the wrong side of sober, so when she wasn’t looking I pulled the last little bit of warm swill left in the glass and dumped it without her knowing. When I looked back around at her, she was drunkily glaring at the spot where she left her warm cup of piss and looked up at me with the old stink eye and says “I was finished anyway! You’re welcome!” and gets up and leaves all staggering and stomping. I’ve never been thanked with a “you’re welcome” before, but then, there is no shortage of something new happening when you work around booze and people for a living.

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Trustifarian Douche

What do you call someone when they look like a hippie, smell like a hippie and act like a douche bag? Well, I’m going to say a pseudo-intellectual trustifarian jerk-off. Sorry, but when you look like a nerd version of Jesus, but act like a nerd version of a spoiled rich kid, I’m guessing mommy and daddy’s checkbook had something to do with how you now behave as an adult. The loudmouth know-it-all finally pushed it over the edge by slamming around the pinball machine acting like he was humping it trying to prove some irrelevant point to some other hippie chicks. That’s when I finally got to tell the guy to quit being a dumbass and leave. He took the aggressive stance of someone trying to start a scene and I squashed it by saying “Look man, I don’t care about you or even consider you for that matter. What I do care about is you abusing things in the bar and acting like a child. I don’t want to beat you up or even want to touch you for that matter, I just want you to leave now and not come back. Bye now.” To which he replied “That’s the nicest way anybody has kicked me out of a bar. Thanks.” That to me means the guy is a douche all the time wherever he goes and expects to get kicked out of places like it’s some kind of a game or something, maybe hoping to be attacked by an employee of the bar in hopes of getting to sue someone. I’m just speculating but people like that never cease to amaze me. So, to you hippie douche, expect the next time you come in to be denied service and asked to leave, in the most polite way possible of course.

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