Sassing your bartender…It’s simple..to put it bluntly! It’s getting under your bartenders “skin”! This can be a very hard thing to do considering that most bartenders have a VERY HIGH TOLERANCE for “jackasses”. It comes with the job…mostly..until you meet that one very “SPECIAL JACKASS”…. Then the gloves come off!
Working at a sports bar can be a fun job, and a royal pain in your ass! Most of your clientele are sports nutz! They come seasonal based on their “sport” of choice. I wanna talk aboutGOOOOOOD OL’ FOOTBALL SEASON! Now, I myself am a big fan of the sport. As a matter of fact, that was one of the reasons why I worked at sports bars. I could work and see the game in a environment that is fun. The only “catch” to this type of bar is that most of the people that come in…STAY..the entire day and get beyond wasted!
I was working at a “said” sports bar one fine Sunday. Everyone seemed to be in a pleasant mood. Just to my luck (cause we ALL know how lucky I am), the “SPECIAL JACKASS ” waltz’s into the bar with an opposing teams jersey on and starts right in on some of the customers. Not in a fun way, but a total JACCCKKK ASSSS way. “Great” I’m thinking to myself. Just what I want to deal with! He proceeds to order shots of Tequila (or as I call it..to kill ya). I offer Partron but said JACKASS wanted the “cheap shit” as he called it. Okie dokie….the shots start flowing. He began to get louder and louder after every shot! Almost like a squeaking megaphone that had no off button! Actually…he got soooo bad that when he opened his mouth I felt like I was hearing someone scrape their nails down a chalk board!
Before I know it..he turns his douche baggery on me! He slams his hand down on the bar screaming “YO..HEY..BARTENDER LADY..U..IM THIRSTY”! At this point…I know that some of my regulars saw the shift in me. I saw the smile come across some of their faces because they know what’s coming. HEHEHE…with every ounce of composure I have, I walk over to him and say “FIRST off..I have a name..SECOND off…don’t bang on my bar..and THIRD off… I will get to you when I am done making these drinks I was in the process of making”. I turn around to walk back to what I was doing and he SNAPS at me! Wow..is this guy SERIOUS! It’s OOONNNNN!
I turn around a scream “SHOTS..on the HOUSE…who’s in”? I put out a dozen shots on the bar and make a bunch of house shots..EXCEPT for one..this shot was for the SPECIAL JACKASS!! I grab all the runners on the bar. They are the rubber mats that go on the bar that collect the spillage from a drink being made. There is a good ten up. This is a long bar people! I drain all the liquid from the runners into a shaker….hehehehe..I’ll show this one….dump some ice in and shake shake shake. There are many names for this “special” shot. Use your imagination and I’m sure you can figure some out for yourself! I pass out the shots all the way down the bar until I get to said special jackass. I give him his shot. I hold mine up and say SALUTE! We all drink our shots. Special Jackass tells me that his was “minty”.
About ten mins later, he gets up from the bar and bolts into the back. As soon as he is out of site in the bathroom paying homage to the porcelain god’s, the bar bursts out into applause and laughter
We found him a half hour later, passed out face down with his head in the toilet! Now I know some of you may find this mean..but I SWEAR..he had it coming!!!
SO…Moral of today’s story..If you are being a SPECIAL JACKASS at a bar, and the bartender gives you a “free” shot, turn it down, pay your bill, and walk away
CROSSING THE BAR…some of you may wonder what that is? Well…it’s a term commonly used in my world meaning “hanging out with customers”. Crossing the bar is what we say when we meet someone who “peaks” our interest as to where they become more than just a “customer”. This is usually the cardinal sin if it’s for dating purposes. However, when it comes to making friends its OK…usually..Unless you’reME..cause that’s my luck!!
So.. I had this really OLLLLLDD “customer” who came into one of the hotel bars that I worked at. As usual, I found him harmless. He kept asking me over and over to go to the “races” with him. My boss at the time kept making fun of me at the fact that I would not hang out with an “old man”. FINE…I crack and I tell DOB (I will explain this in a min) that Sat looks good and that I would go with him. I mean seriously..he’s an OLD MAN! He’s old enough to be my great grandfather!!!
He picks me up Sat round 11am and he tells me we are gonna have a fun day betting on the horses. “OK” I say to my self. I’ve worked at the OTB (Off Track Betting). I know its usually full of grumpy old men betting and smoking like chimneys. The ride up was nice considering he was rich and had a comfy ride. He did have the worst breath tho!!
We get into the “said race track”, get our programs and go to the elevator. It’s broke and he’s like 80! Great..am I gonna have to carry his old ass up the steps?? He say’s to me “I know a shortcut to the escalators” (PEOPLE this is where I should have RAN back to any mode of transportation and got outta there fast)! He grabs my hand and we start to walk the maze of the inside offices of the track. I said to him”owowow….how sweet..everyone here probably thinks I’m your granddaughter”. He says to me as he raises my hand to kiss it “That’s OK DEAR, as long as no one knows OURSITUATION”! WHHHHHHATTT!! SITUATION!! HUH!! I’m confused!! I”m pretty sure I busted out laughing!! I mean really?? REALLY?? OUR SITUATION! HA! As far as I’m concerned you have one foot in the grave and the other on a bannana peel..AND your older THAN my grandfather!
We get to the table. I order a very BIG martini. It’s only noon and we have 12 races to get through! Me..DOB..and the horses! How the hell did I get myself into this!! Thank god we were close enough to the smoking entrance so I could run out every chance I had to call my friends and re-live that awful moment of his thinking that we were on a DATE! EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!!
As the day goes on, for what ever reason, I was winning some big $$ (well not that crazy, but still I only started with $30). I hit BIG on a horse. It paid like $80 or something like that. After the horse comes in and I’m jumping up and down like a fool, I turn to DOB for a double handed high five. As I go in to slap his hands..he lowers his hand and goes in and attempts to grab my chest!! Again..WWHHAAATT!! Is this really happening??? DOB has some balls (no pun intended)! I get out of that one very gracefully by catching his hands and with enough slap to them where he almost falls back into his chair! EEEWWW!! I order yet another martini and pray that it will all end soon!! THEN..I HIT AGAIN! Just as big..like $60 or something. I turn around and before I know it DOB is going in for a KISS! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Damn..he won’t quit! Thank GOD I’m still quick and I maneuver around him to high five the waiter! YIKES! This DIRTY OLD BASTARD really thinks this is a date..or even worse..that he ACTUALLY HAS GAME!!
Luckily, the last race I won was the last and I cash in my $230 worth of vouchers. YEY ME!! We start our trip back. I realize that I have to be in a car with him for at least a half hour. As we are on our way, he cranks up the heat and plays soft music! EWEWEWEW…It takes every ounce of me to not fall asleep based on the number of martini’s I had and the heat blaring in my face! I contemplate telling him to pull off at a random exit and “pretend” I live there so I could get out of the car and find my own way home!
I decide better of it and place a “pretend” call to my “pretend” boyfriend to try to ward this DOB off. We pull up to where he picked me up at my work location and says to me..now I quote this “I had such a great time with you. I think we should make this our Saturday habit”. AGAIN..WHHHATT! You thought we were on a “DATE” EWEWEWEWEW…tried to cop a feel, AND kiss me! !!!So I look at him, pinch his cheek like you would to a five year old and told him not on his life..whats left of it!!
SO kids we have learned a VALUABLE VALUABLE LESSON HERE!! When what seems like a harmless DOB ask’s you to go to the races with him, tell him you have a gambling problem and would rather eat sand in the desert!!!
This latest story is lent to us by a good friend of mine who is not only AWESOME..but has been a bartender as long as me!! GUEST BLOGGER: LORI BREWER..
(Names have been changed to protect the jackasses)
I was working at a high-end hotel bar, which you’d think would mean a certain level of decorum. Oh so very wrong!!
A Sunday afternoon rolls around and I find myself working with a bartender who’d been “away” for a while. She seemed nice enough. A musician/actress/song writer and poet.. Your run of the mill “art-tender“. She was quick and friendly. We’ll call her Crazy Pants, because a few weeks later she decided, and I quote “these pants are CRAZY, I gotta get them off of me”! Then…a half an hour later, hotel security comes into the bar and tells me to come and get Crazy Pants because she’s running around the hotel in her UNDERWEAR!! But… that’s another story… Back to Sunday…
We’re making it through the shift when I start to notice bottles out of place and Crazy Pants is getting a little slow on the up-take. I ignore, not my job to control the staff. I keep working but it starts to get a little awkward. Customers are complaining of forgotten drinks, clumsy service and gin and tonics made with Kahula. I decide to ask Crazy what’s up? I mosey down to her end of the bar to find her eating the olives out of a customers drink and unable to speak any intelligible language!!
At this point…. all I can think is, “I need a drink”! I pour myself a double Jameson and and try to handle the situation. I carry Crazy to the bathroom and tell her to “STAY“!! I run back to the bar to get her some water, but when I turn around she’s behind me barking… Literally,” RUFF RUFF” barking!! I carry her back to the bathroom and she once again reappears…that’s when it hits me….”I need to lock her up”!
The liquor closet of the bar has a key card that you need to get in, and once inside the booze is on shelves behind a pad-locked gate. The only way to get IN or OUT of the closet is with the card. I piggy back her out of the bar, confiscate her key and throw her in the closet. I get back to the bar and there is complete silence…… After about ten minutes and with no reappearance of Crazy Pants the bar bursts into applause!!!!
I finished the busy night alone. No worries right.. As the last customer leaves, I pour myself another drink and sit on the other side of the bar. Rough night, but.. I’ve seen worse. Time to head home. But that’s when it hits me…. Where’s Crazy Pants? I go to the liquor closet to free the captive only to find there a woman who couldn’t speak or walk without aid had managed to pick the lock on the booze gate!!! Crazy Pants is sitting on a milk crate, holding a twisted bobby pin in her hand, drinking a bottle of Grand Marnier from a straw !!! Here’s the thing… I’m fine with all the obscurity but my one and ONLY question to this day is, “ where did she get the straw“? :):)
P.S….All CRAZY PANTS had to say to me the next shift was “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like a DOG”!!
