March 2010
3 posts
Ironic?
Regular Rob: I got three DUIs in Texas, making me a convicted felon. I come to Florida and they hand me a shiny new license that says ‘safe driver’ in big red letters.
Drinking on the Job
Recently, a few of my co-workers got in some trouble when they were caught making (alcoholic) drinks for one of the waitresses. While I don’t condone the behavior (and I’m pretty pissed that I’m now dealing with the consequences of their poor decisions), a part of me wants to post this on “the board” and see how the Man Who Thinks He’s God likes it.
Reasons to...
August 2009
2 posts
going to work with a hangover sucks. working in a bar with a hangover.. the WORST.
chuck, byron, tom, kevin, bob, jim, ronnie, rob,...
not only do i know ALL of my regulars on a first name basis, but i know what they drink, their marital status, the names and ages of their kids (and who has custody), where they work, where their kids go to school, their hobbies, what they drive, where they live, what TV station they want to watch, what they want to eat, and one or two (or more than enough) interesting tidbits of personal...
July 2009
4 posts
to the fat bitch who can't call it a day without...
FUCK YOU, YOUR FAT DAUGHTER AND HER WHORE FRIEND. YOU SUCK.
This lady (and her fat whore sidekicks) come in every week- on Wednesday. Happy hour wings and half price appetizers. And every Wednesday, something is wrong. Either her “crispy but not burnt” fries aren’t cooked just right or the teriyaki sauce “doesn’t taste how it usually does.” Whatever it is, I...
“i’ve gotten pulled over in my own driveway four times.”
– Tom (regular)
Weirdo Wednesday
Nine o’clockish. Two guys. Opposite sides of the bar. Only two customers in the restaurant.
Dude #1. He’s been to the bar a couple times before, drinks Amber Bock, kinda annoying. Twenty-seven. Married and divorced. He has ADHD tendencies and feels the need to constantly talk to me. About everything. He has a nine-year-old son. He has custody every other weekend. Dude went to jail two...
hey old guy, it's 2009. get with the program.
Me: hey, how ya doin?
Gramps: [nothing, stares at me]
Me: can I get a drink for you?
Gramps: I'm sorry?
Me: Would you like a drink, sir?
Gramps: I want a burger.
Me: Okay, what kind of burger?
Gramps: Pardon?
Me: What kind of burger would you like sir?
Gramps: [blank stare]
By this time I'm annoyed and my patience died three minutes before he even walked in. Homeboy has been at the bar at least three times before and I feel like I'm being punk'd. I took a menu, flipped to the burgers, set it in front of him and walk away to take care of the 17 other people at the bar and pour the number of drinks for the waitresses before returning to him.
Me: Figure out what you-
Gramps: (cuts me off) I'll have the Black and Bleu burger. Well. With fries, crispy.
Me: (pissed) Okay. What kind of fries sir?
Gramps: Excuse me?
Me: Straight, curly or sweet potato fries.
Gramps: [nothing]
Me: Regular fries. Curly fries. Or sweet potato fries.
Gramps: I'm sorry, what?
I repeat myself two more times. Talking extremely loud and slow, like I do to my senile 90-year-old grandmother. He decides on straight fries (like he always does) and asks for "a glass of Coors Light." You got it, buddy. Twenty minutes later he has his food and all seems well. While I'm making my rounds (busy), he grabs my attention, beckons me overs and asks, "Did you love Michael?" Uhhhh.. I reply casually with "Of course, who didn't?" repeat myself three times, and cash him out. Thirty minutes of annoying bullshit for no tip. Imagine that.
A word of advice to our dearest elders: I know you're older than dirt and have a tendency to forget things, but when you go out to a restaurant, bring your reading glasses, turn up your hearing aid, and leave a goddamn tip.
June 2009
6 posts
Meet Byron,
a thirtysomething-year-old regular who frequents the bar with his companion Chuck (formally Charles Brown) on a daily basis. Long nights, years of smoking cigarettes, some jail time, sunburns from passing out on the picnic tables (beer still in hand) combined with rheumatoid arthritis make him look about 50. Byron owes $200 a month in child support for his 22-year-old son, which he doesn’t...
I'm pretty sure my regulars are the most honest...
Byron: Kendra did you do something different to your hair?
Me: Yeah, I got more blond put in. And it's shorter.
Byron: It looks orange. I liked it better before.
Justin Bryant,
I should not be allowed to serve you alcohol. I will get you drunk and take you home with me. Just wait.
Mexico @ Beef's
like clockwork, a group of Mexicans will come to the bar sometime throughout the week. It’s usually the same gang of greasy, rude, disgusting guys, drinking Coronas, spitting on the floor and ruining my night. They stare at all the girls, making them feel uncomfortable. They scare off my customers- no one wants to sit next to that. They never tip, but it’s okay. They’ll never...
a word about regulars
regulars make up the majority of my bar patrons. i know almost all of them on a first name basis. if not, references such as “creepy guy,” “Bronson boy,” “skinny cokehead,” and “crazy homeless guy” work just as well. they usually arrive faithfully at 3, the beginning of happy hour, and leave not a minute before it ends. it’s the same routine...
6 Ways to Piss Off Your Bartender →
“If you’ve ever yelled “hey you,” rudely, multiple times to a bartender currently busting their ass to get 10 margaritas made for the 10 people ahead of you, then you know you’ve just upped you’re waiting quotient by about 35%.”