“Just about every shift for three years of bartending someone decided to be rude and of course, that was directed at me. But one of the most notable was a group of four guys in their mid-20s. They had drinks and dinner at the bar top. They were decent enough guys, not friendly, but not rude. They split their check into two and I gave them the two tabs. They got into an odd discussion of who was paying and I went serve someone else.
I came back over as one put down the cash and I closed out that tab. Then I turned to get a card for the other tab. It was then that I realize I closed out the wrong tab. Dang it. I opened the other tab so my manager could come to fix it, and noticed the balance was a nickel different.
I thought, ‘Meh, they are friends, it’s a nickel.’
So I used the card to close the other tab and gave it back to them to sign. I explained the mistake and how it was only a nickel off. They flipped out on me.
I responded, ‘Okay, okay, I’ll get my manager to fix the issue, no problem.’
Except he wasn’t around. So I got berated for about five minutes until he showed back up. I tried to keep serving others as the bar was packed. Each time I stepped away from their bar area they got louder so everyone could hear.
Once the manager arrived (he’s normally a stickler about small mistakes), he actually sides with me.
He turned to me and said, ‘Really, scumbags.’
On a good note, one of my regulars held up a quarter and offered to pay their difference plus extra for their troubles.
On another occasion, I got to turn the tables. I’m always amazed at people who would walk in and be rude before even ordering a drink. How do you think your night is going to go when you do that?
So a forty-something guy came in mid-conversation with his friend. Directed at me, he said, ‘Like this guy, you should have gone to college right?’
Mind you, I have a degree and worked at the bar on weekends after over forty hours at an ad agency. I simply worked there because I liked my co-workers and the regulars. The money I made literally got put into a safe and I would dip into it when I went out with friends.
So I had this thought, ‘I wonder if he’s stupid enough not to carry his ID.’
So I asked him, ‘Can I see your ID?’
He responded, ‘You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, I’m thirty-six.’
I thought, ‘I doubt that, but okay, I’d say more like forty-six.’
I said, ‘Yeah, we are kind of strict, we card anyone we don’t know.’
He responded, ‘I don’t carry it, I haven’t been carded in ten years.’
I said, ‘Sorry, can’t serve you.’
He shouted, ‘Get your stupid freaking manager over here!’
The manager was within earshot, came over, and gave me a nasty look. He asked, ‘What’s going on?’
I told him that I asked for ID and he didn’t have any, so I couldn’t serve him.
He responded, ‘He’s obviously old enough,’ saying that loud enough that the customer heard.
I turned so the customer couldn’t see my lips and whispered, ‘He’s an absolute prick.’
And then turned back to say loudly, ‘Doesn’t matter, no ID, I’m not allowed by our insurance company to serve him.’
My manager grinned and said, ‘Absolutely right, glad you were listening during training.'”
