Tweet
I am in a foul mood. Utterly unpleasant today, really. But for once I am not here to rant about my personal life. Oh no. I am focusing my disgust, contempt and disdain for so many things in my life upon some of the more unpleasant SC's I have crossed path with recently. Enjoy, but please be warned....much bile is about to be spewed. Safety plastic gear is available in the lobby.
No. No you're not.
At The Bar, our restrooms are for our customers only. They are not public restrooms, nor do we feel they should be. They get messed up enough by our paying customers--we don't need freeloading yahoos helping to foul them. And keep in mind, if someone simply buys a soda or a bottled water, we will then consider them a paying customer.
So the other day, this mouth breather comes ambling in.
TOAD: "Where's your bathrooms?"
JESTER: "I'm sorry sir, but they're for our customers."
TOAD: "Well, I WAS going to be one, but now I'm not."
And he storms out.
Okay, Mr. Ugly Tourist, let's get something straight. You were NOT going to be our customer. You were coming in to drop a load, nothing more. Had you been planning on being a customer, you might have said something to the effect of, "Oh, I plan on dining and drinking here as soon as I take care of nature." Or something similar but more monosyllabic in your case. But as you had absolutely no plans of actually buying a frickin' thing from us, you couldn't think of any retort snappier than that.
Good luck finding a toilet before you soil your shorts as badly as nature has soiled your brainpan.
Lies, lies, and more lies.
The other day I was bartending on the roof deck of The Bar. Working at that time were myself behind the bar and New Server on the floor, with two more servers due in shortly but not there yet. I was finishing up my shift, waiting for my relief, and so was stocking the bar, as is my job. New Server had about 3 or 4 tables, so was a little busy, but not out of his depth.
As I walk from the beer cooler to the bar with a case of beer in my hands, I cross paths with a party of four who are heading towards the exit. And one of them approaches me and says, and I quote, "We're nice people, we tip well, but we are leaving because you don't have enough staff up here." And out they went in a huff.
Let's examine each part of this guy's statement.
First, we had enough staff to wait on them. They may have sat there all of a couple of minutes before they decided they were being ignored. Had they said something, say, "Excuse me, can we get someone to wait on us?" myself or New Server would have had no problem helping them out, and doing so promptly, swiftly, and with great care. They decided they were better than that, and to make a scene.
Secondly, I find that in 99% of the cases, people that make a point to say great they tip....don't. It's like the people who are always talking about sex....generally they are the ones getting the least.
And finally, the first part of this guy's statement. That they are nice people.
Well, no. You're not. You, sir, are a douchenozzle of the highest order. Because a NICE person would have politely pointed out to some staff member that they might have gotten overlooked, and could someone please wait on them. That is what *I* would have done. I, you see, am a nice person. Nice people give staff a chance to correct the initial mistake of overlooking a table. Fuckwompers like yourself make a point of showing how self-important they are as they storm out in grandiose fashion.
And thank you, sir, for doing so. Because now none of my staff has to deal with serving a quartet of baboon fellaters like you and your friends. Frankly, we don't want your business anyway. I hope you went down the street to the Crappy Restaurant With Nasty Food and enjoyed your self-righteousness, and thoroughly enjoyed the disturbingly violent bowel movement you would have received later that night.
Um....what?!?!??!
In Florida, while you can smoke at open air establishments, you cannot smoke inside an enclosed restaurant. The law has been on the books for several years now. Sometimes, though, we deal with people who don't realize it, for various reasons, usually not being from Florida. And most people are pretty fine with it once we tell them, as that is the way a lot of places are these days. They may not like it, of course, but they know we are merely doing our job.
But then, there are people who are just flaming idiots.
A big old boy ambles into The Bar one day. He walks right past the hostess stand where several staff are standing and into the bar area. Which is fine. That happens all the time. While in the bar area, Big Old Boy breaks out and lights up a cigar. Seeing this, the bartender politely jumps into action.
BARTENDER: "Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't smoke in here. It's the law."
BIG OLD BOY: "What? That's ridiculous. Someone should have told me that when I came in!"
And he stormed out.
Now, let me see if I understand you, for I am not that bright, sir, and only went to Arizona State University. It is our job to inform every person that walks in, who is not even visibly smoking at the time, that they can't smoke in the establishment? Or are you implying, rather, that we should have used our psychic abilities to know that you were planning on relaxing with a stogie, and thus should have informed you of the legal obstacles to your plan?
Um, yeah. Right. Um....no. I don't think so. I fervently wish that the next time you light up wherever you damn please, you offend the delicate olfactory senses of a biker nicknamed Earth Crusher, and he shoves that cigar so far down your gullet that you start sneezing smoke rings.
Fun With Parking
Outside of The Bar are a very small number of metered parking spaces. Everything else in front of the bar is a yellow curb. Meaning, of course, that you can't park there. Period. And we try to be nice and tell people this. But of course, not everyone appreciates it. Like these tourons:
JESTER: "Um, sir? You can't park there."
DRIVER: "What? Why not?"
JESTER: "It's not a parking spot. The curb is yellow. The City will ticket you."
DRIVER: "Well it's not painted all that well."
JESTER: "Sir, I'm just trying to help you out. Park there if you want, but the City will ticket you."
Frankly I hope they tow your ungrateful ass. I am not the City nor a City employee. I was just trying to help you not get ticketed, but since you seem to think I am the cause of it, screw it. Park there. Park there for days. Don't blame me when you get ticket, towed, impounded, or anally probed. No, the City doesn't do that last one. But a boy can dream, can't he?
No. No you're not.
At The Bar, our restrooms are for our customers only. They are not public restrooms, nor do we feel they should be. They get messed up enough by our paying customers--we don't need freeloading yahoos helping to foul them. And keep in mind, if someone simply buys a soda or a bottled water, we will then consider them a paying customer.
So the other day, this mouth breather comes ambling in.
TOAD: "Where's your bathrooms?"
JESTER: "I'm sorry sir, but they're for our customers."
TOAD: "Well, I WAS going to be one, but now I'm not."
And he storms out.
Okay, Mr. Ugly Tourist, let's get something straight. You were NOT going to be our customer. You were coming in to drop a load, nothing more. Had you been planning on being a customer, you might have said something to the effect of, "Oh, I plan on dining and drinking here as soon as I take care of nature." Or something similar but more monosyllabic in your case. But as you had absolutely no plans of actually buying a frickin' thing from us, you couldn't think of any retort snappier than that.
Good luck finding a toilet before you soil your shorts as badly as nature has soiled your brainpan.
Lies, lies, and more lies.
The other day I was bartending on the roof deck of The Bar. Working at that time were myself behind the bar and New Server on the floor, with two more servers due in shortly but not there yet. I was finishing up my shift, waiting for my relief, and so was stocking the bar, as is my job. New Server had about 3 or 4 tables, so was a little busy, but not out of his depth.
As I walk from the beer cooler to the bar with a case of beer in my hands, I cross paths with a party of four who are heading towards the exit. And one of them approaches me and says, and I quote, "We're nice people, we tip well, but we are leaving because you don't have enough staff up here." And out they went in a huff.
Let's examine each part of this guy's statement.
First, we had enough staff to wait on them. They may have sat there all of a couple of minutes before they decided they were being ignored. Had they said something, say, "Excuse me, can we get someone to wait on us?" myself or New Server would have had no problem helping them out, and doing so promptly, swiftly, and with great care. They decided they were better than that, and to make a scene.
Secondly, I find that in 99% of the cases, people that make a point to say great they tip....don't. It's like the people who are always talking about sex....generally they are the ones getting the least.
And finally, the first part of this guy's statement. That they are nice people.
Well, no. You're not. You, sir, are a douchenozzle of the highest order. Because a NICE person would have politely pointed out to some staff member that they might have gotten overlooked, and could someone please wait on them. That is what *I* would have done. I, you see, am a nice person. Nice people give staff a chance to correct the initial mistake of overlooking a table. Fuckwompers like yourself make a point of showing how self-important they are as they storm out in grandiose fashion.
And thank you, sir, for doing so. Because now none of my staff has to deal with serving a quartet of baboon fellaters like you and your friends. Frankly, we don't want your business anyway. I hope you went down the street to the Crappy Restaurant With Nasty Food and enjoyed your self-righteousness, and thoroughly enjoyed the disturbingly violent bowel movement you would have received later that night.
Um....what?!?!??!
In Florida, while you can smoke at open air establishments, you cannot smoke inside an enclosed restaurant. The law has been on the books for several years now. Sometimes, though, we deal with people who don't realize it, for various reasons, usually not being from Florida. And most people are pretty fine with it once we tell them, as that is the way a lot of places are these days. They may not like it, of course, but they know we are merely doing our job.
But then, there are people who are just flaming idiots.
A big old boy ambles into The Bar one day. He walks right past the hostess stand where several staff are standing and into the bar area. Which is fine. That happens all the time. While in the bar area, Big Old Boy breaks out and lights up a cigar. Seeing this, the bartender politely jumps into action.
BARTENDER: "Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't smoke in here. It's the law."
BIG OLD BOY: "What? That's ridiculous. Someone should have told me that when I came in!"
And he stormed out.
Now, let me see if I understand you, for I am not that bright, sir, and only went to Arizona State University. It is our job to inform every person that walks in, who is not even visibly smoking at the time, that they can't smoke in the establishment? Or are you implying, rather, that we should have used our psychic abilities to know that you were planning on relaxing with a stogie, and thus should have informed you of the legal obstacles to your plan?
Um, yeah. Right. Um....no. I don't think so. I fervently wish that the next time you light up wherever you damn please, you offend the delicate olfactory senses of a biker nicknamed Earth Crusher, and he shoves that cigar so far down your gullet that you start sneezing smoke rings.
Fun With Parking
Outside of The Bar are a very small number of metered parking spaces. Everything else in front of the bar is a yellow curb. Meaning, of course, that you can't park there. Period. And we try to be nice and tell people this. But of course, not everyone appreciates it. Like these tourons:
JESTER: "Um, sir? You can't park there."
DRIVER: "What? Why not?"
JESTER: "It's not a parking spot. The curb is yellow. The City will ticket you."
DRIVER: "Well it's not painted all that well."
JESTER: "Sir, I'm just trying to help you out. Park there if you want, but the City will ticket you."
Frankly I hope they tow your ungrateful ass. I am not the City nor a City employee. I was just trying to help you not get ticketed, but since you seem to think I am the cause of it, screw it. Park there. Park there for days. Don't blame me when you get ticket, towed, impounded, or anally probed. No, the City doesn't do that last one. But a boy can dream, can't he?
Comment