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(Friday was relatively decent, if you're wondering.)
Douchebag #1
So I'm walking up to The Q to start my opening shift, and this weird and shady guy rolls up towards me on a bicycle.
SKIM SHADY: "Hey, ya wanna buy a four hundred dollar bike for fifty bucks?"
JESTER: (continues walking) "That ain't a four hundred dollar bike."
SKIM SHADY: "Sure it is!"
JESTER: "Dude, I'm a cyclist, I know bikes, and that is NOT a four hundred dollar bike."
SKIM SHADY: "How about you loan me two hundred and use the bike as collateral?"
JESTER: "I wouldn't give you four bucks for that bike."
SKIM SHADY: (continues to prattle on about some bullshit as I ignore him and walk into The Q to start my day.)
It wasn't until I told my managers about this that they pointed out something that should have been obvious to me but I had missed: chances were good that the bike was stolen. And to be fair, it was a decent enough bike, but there were several reasons I didn't even consider the deal.
1. It was a cruiser, which I have no need or want for.
2. It had a nice enough paint job, but nothing that interested me.
3. I have two nice bikes already, and if I wanted a third, I'd find one, I wouldn't wait till it found me.
4. The dude was a loon, and I don't deal with loons.
5. I didn't know the origin of the bike, and had no desire to get into a business transaction for a bike I didn't want with a guy I didn't want to be near.
6. Even after I told him no, he kept trying to get me to buy it. There's a "hard sell" and then there's "not knowing when to give up and move on."
Douchebag #2
This was one of my first customers of the day. He sat down and ordered a beer. I brought him his beer and a menu.
JESTER: "Here ya go. What's your name?"
MYSTERY MAN: "What's it matter?"
JESTER: "I was just trying to be friendly. Hi, I'm Jester!" (extending my hand)
MYSTERY MAN: (looking askance at my proffered hand) "I don't shake hands."
JESTER: "Alrighty then. You just let me know when you're ready to order."
Douchebag #3
This one not only is a two-parter, but sadly is my management at The Q.
Part 1: I may have mentioned that I have a blast working with my new coworker every Saturday, Queenie. She's a hoot, and just as silly as I am. Well, early in the day, I was alerted to some changes in the schedule. Most of them were simply shuffling some shifts and shift times around to better reflect the business and its needs, which makes sense. But one of the changes was that, as of next week, Queenie was no longer scheduled as the other day bartender on Saturdays, but was now on Sundays.
Nothing against the girl who was now scheduled for Saturdays--she's a sweetheart--but I've had too much fun with Queenie, and I was a bit irritated by this.
As it turns out, I wasn't the only one. The other girl who had been given the Saturday shift pointed out that that would be hard to do, as she is also scheduled to manage on Saturdays. Hard to help out the servers when you are behind the bar, and hard to be helping me out behind the bar when you are off helping the servers. Also, Queenie found this objectionable, too. And voiced it. So the other girl and her did a little fiddling, and Queenie got her Saturday day shift back. As I told her, that's good for her, "since you work with the second coolest bartender in Key West. I, of course, work with the coolest."
I did point out to Queenie that she would probably make more money on NFL Sundays than on hit-or-miss college football Saturdays. She agreed, but said she enjoyed the Saturday shifts too much. Nice to know I am not the only one enjoying myself! And, as it turned out later, she is now going to be doing both Saturdays AND Sundays. Bonus for her.
Amusing sidenote: later, after her shift (and after several drinks), the manager girl jokingly said that we had both cried a little "when you thought you were going to be separated."
Part 2: For Fantasy Fest Saturday, Queenie and I were the only two staff members to dress up in costume for our shift. We didn't coordinate this; we just both showed up in costume, and found it hilarious. But thinking ahead, we decided to do something equally silly for Parrothead Saturday, which was yesterday. And we spent the week texting back and forth as we each searched for the right getups. In the end, we showed up wearing grass skirts and Parrot hats (yes, big colorful felt Parrots perched on top of our heads!), and I brought in a couple of tropical shirts, one for me, and one for Queenie if management didn't go along with her wearing a bikini top, which she thought was hilarious, and would probably make her more money, and which I thought was awesome because it was hilarious and fit the theme....and she is not exactly sore on the eyes.
Not surprisingly, the bikini top got vetoed. More surprisingly, though, was just as Queenie was about to come on, the manager came to me and told me that upper management had seen the getups online on the cameras we have there, and had insisted that we wear The Q shirts, rather than the tropical shirts. They're logic was that we were not actually doing an official Parrothead event, so we should at least be in official shirts. This bummed us out, but on the plus side, they DID allow us to keep the grass skirts and Parrot hats. And the manager on duty even loaned me a The Q polo shirt, which normally I would never wear (I don't like polo shirts), but when she pointed out that she was doing it so I wouldn't have to actually BUY a new shirt, I agreed readily to it. (Ironically, that was a damn comfortable polo shirt, and I may have to revise my opinion of them, at least when they're made of such comfortable, light, breathable material.)
Douchebag #4
Guy sits down at the bar, orders a soda and asks for a menu. I bring him his soda and the menu, and go about taking care of other guests. Later, he orders a glass of wine from Queenie. A bit later, seeing that he still had the menu in front of him, I approached.
JESTER: "So, make any decisions about food?"
THE GENERAL: "My standing orders are that I'll tell you when I need something."
Translation: Leave the fuck alone; don't bother me, I'll call you when I need something.
Apparently he had said the same thing to Queenie. So, we basically ignored the guy until he actually needed or wanted something, which seemed to make him happy enough.
Despite all the douchebaggery and a couple of other minor things, we had another fun Saturday, and it continued to be amusing after the shift. The guy who had loaned me the Parrot hats came in with some friends to eat, so I was able to return them immediately. The guy who loaned me the grass skirts said he really didn't need them, so I could pitch them or keep them; I am now the owner of two grass skirts, though I have no idea what I am going to do with them, or if I will ever need them again. I guess I'll file them away with all my other costuming stuff, of which I seem to have way too much.
Queenie and I each made decent money, and she went out on the town to hang out with some stripper friends, while I ended up having a lovely five-beer sampler at a local craft beer bar, along with picking up a big bottle from them of one of my favorite beers, which happened to be their last bottle of it. And I watched the first half of my college football game at my neighborhood dive sports bar, with a new and amazingly cute bartender, but had to go home at half-time, as I was struggling to stay awake at the bar. And I got an extra hour of sleep today, too, thanks to the whole Daylight Savings Time change.
All in all, not bad for a Douchebag Saturday!
Douchebag #1
So I'm walking up to The Q to start my opening shift, and this weird and shady guy rolls up towards me on a bicycle.
SKIM SHADY: "Hey, ya wanna buy a four hundred dollar bike for fifty bucks?"
JESTER: (continues walking) "That ain't a four hundred dollar bike."
SKIM SHADY: "Sure it is!"
JESTER: "Dude, I'm a cyclist, I know bikes, and that is NOT a four hundred dollar bike."
SKIM SHADY: "How about you loan me two hundred and use the bike as collateral?"
JESTER: "I wouldn't give you four bucks for that bike."
SKIM SHADY: (continues to prattle on about some bullshit as I ignore him and walk into The Q to start my day.)
It wasn't until I told my managers about this that they pointed out something that should have been obvious to me but I had missed: chances were good that the bike was stolen. And to be fair, it was a decent enough bike, but there were several reasons I didn't even consider the deal.
1. It was a cruiser, which I have no need or want for.
2. It had a nice enough paint job, but nothing that interested me.
3. I have two nice bikes already, and if I wanted a third, I'd find one, I wouldn't wait till it found me.
4. The dude was a loon, and I don't deal with loons.
5. I didn't know the origin of the bike, and had no desire to get into a business transaction for a bike I didn't want with a guy I didn't want to be near.
6. Even after I told him no, he kept trying to get me to buy it. There's a "hard sell" and then there's "not knowing when to give up and move on."
Douchebag #2
This was one of my first customers of the day. He sat down and ordered a beer. I brought him his beer and a menu.
JESTER: "Here ya go. What's your name?"
MYSTERY MAN: "What's it matter?"
JESTER: "I was just trying to be friendly. Hi, I'm Jester!" (extending my hand)
MYSTERY MAN: (looking askance at my proffered hand) "I don't shake hands."
JESTER: "Alrighty then. You just let me know when you're ready to order."
Douchebag #3
This one not only is a two-parter, but sadly is my management at The Q.
Part 1: I may have mentioned that I have a blast working with my new coworker every Saturday, Queenie. She's a hoot, and just as silly as I am. Well, early in the day, I was alerted to some changes in the schedule. Most of them were simply shuffling some shifts and shift times around to better reflect the business and its needs, which makes sense. But one of the changes was that, as of next week, Queenie was no longer scheduled as the other day bartender on Saturdays, but was now on Sundays.
Nothing against the girl who was now scheduled for Saturdays--she's a sweetheart--but I've had too much fun with Queenie, and I was a bit irritated by this.As it turns out, I wasn't the only one. The other girl who had been given the Saturday shift pointed out that that would be hard to do, as she is also scheduled to manage on Saturdays. Hard to help out the servers when you are behind the bar, and hard to be helping me out behind the bar when you are off helping the servers. Also, Queenie found this objectionable, too. And voiced it. So the other girl and her did a little fiddling, and Queenie got her Saturday day shift back. As I told her, that's good for her, "since you work with the second coolest bartender in Key West. I, of course, work with the coolest."
I did point out to Queenie that she would probably make more money on NFL Sundays than on hit-or-miss college football Saturdays. She agreed, but said she enjoyed the Saturday shifts too much. Nice to know I am not the only one enjoying myself! And, as it turned out later, she is now going to be doing both Saturdays AND Sundays. Bonus for her.
Amusing sidenote: later, after her shift (and after several drinks), the manager girl jokingly said that we had both cried a little "when you thought you were going to be separated."
Part 2: For Fantasy Fest Saturday, Queenie and I were the only two staff members to dress up in costume for our shift. We didn't coordinate this; we just both showed up in costume, and found it hilarious. But thinking ahead, we decided to do something equally silly for Parrothead Saturday, which was yesterday. And we spent the week texting back and forth as we each searched for the right getups. In the end, we showed up wearing grass skirts and Parrot hats (yes, big colorful felt Parrots perched on top of our heads!), and I brought in a couple of tropical shirts, one for me, and one for Queenie if management didn't go along with her wearing a bikini top, which she thought was hilarious, and would probably make her more money, and which I thought was awesome because it was hilarious and fit the theme....and she is not exactly sore on the eyes.
Not surprisingly, the bikini top got vetoed. More surprisingly, though, was just as Queenie was about to come on, the manager came to me and told me that upper management had seen the getups online on the cameras we have there, and had insisted that we wear The Q shirts, rather than the tropical shirts. They're logic was that we were not actually doing an official Parrothead event, so we should at least be in official shirts. This bummed us out, but on the plus side, they DID allow us to keep the grass skirts and Parrot hats. And the manager on duty even loaned me a The Q polo shirt, which normally I would never wear (I don't like polo shirts), but when she pointed out that she was doing it so I wouldn't have to actually BUY a new shirt, I agreed readily to it. (Ironically, that was a damn comfortable polo shirt, and I may have to revise my opinion of them, at least when they're made of such comfortable, light, breathable material.)
Douchebag #4
Guy sits down at the bar, orders a soda and asks for a menu. I bring him his soda and the menu, and go about taking care of other guests. Later, he orders a glass of wine from Queenie. A bit later, seeing that he still had the menu in front of him, I approached.
JESTER: "So, make any decisions about food?"
THE GENERAL: "My standing orders are that I'll tell you when I need something."
Translation: Leave the fuck alone; don't bother me, I'll call you when I need something.
Apparently he had said the same thing to Queenie. So, we basically ignored the guy until he actually needed or wanted something, which seemed to make him happy enough.
Despite all the douchebaggery and a couple of other minor things, we had another fun Saturday, and it continued to be amusing after the shift. The guy who had loaned me the Parrot hats came in with some friends to eat, so I was able to return them immediately. The guy who loaned me the grass skirts said he really didn't need them, so I could pitch them or keep them; I am now the owner of two grass skirts, though I have no idea what I am going to do with them, or if I will ever need them again. I guess I'll file them away with all my other costuming stuff, of which I seem to have way too much.
Queenie and I each made decent money, and she went out on the town to hang out with some stripper friends, while I ended up having a lovely five-beer sampler at a local craft beer bar, along with picking up a big bottle from them of one of my favorite beers, which happened to be their last bottle of it. And I watched the first half of my college football game at my neighborhood dive sports bar, with a new and amazingly cute bartender, but had to go home at half-time, as I was struggling to stay awake at the bar. And I got an extra hour of sleep today, too, thanks to the whole Daylight Savings Time change.
All in all, not bad for a Douchebag Saturday!
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