The bar is packed, the band is wailing, and this guy comes up to me.
GUY: “Can you tell me what time Caffeine Carl plays?”
I look at the guy, I look at the band cranking it on stage, and I look back at the guy.
ME: “Um....he’s playing right now. That’s him on stage.”
He look at the stage in bewilderment, thanks me, and goes on his way, presumably to schedule a vasectomy and end his genetic line forevermore.
Clearly a big fan of the greatest guitarist in Key West.
###
WOMAN: “May I have a Moscow Mule?”
ME: “Sure! Any particular vodka?”
WOMAN: “Vodka? No, that comes with rum.”
ME: “Ma’am? Moscow Mules are made with vodka.”
WOMAN: “I’m sure they’re made with rum.”
MORGAN FREEMAN’S VOICE: “But she was wrong. Moscow Mules are, in fact, made with vodka.”
ME: “Um, no ma’am, they’re made with vodka. Might you be thinking of a different drink?”
WOMAN: “...Oh, I’m thinking of a Dark and Stormy.”
MORGAN FREEMAN’S VOICE: “Yes, a Dark and Stormy IS made with rum.”
ME: “Yes, a Dark and Stormy IS made with rum.”
MORGAN FREEMAN:
###
WOULD BE COMEDIAN: (notices my wrist brace) “Why are you wearing your bowling glove?”
ME: (having not at all heard the same joke repeatedly for the last month plus, since I sprained my wrist) “Duuhh! It’s bowling night!
###
I was recently promoted to manager, among other events, and on the first day this was official, I had this conversation with my kickass boss...
ME: “For my first official act as manager, I’m firing myself.”
KAB: “I’m overruling that.”
ME: “Damn it!”
###
A bar I recently left had new management, and had made some unpopular choices, including raising the prices. One of the regulars walked in one night, and as he was flying to some other regulars, I approached.
ME: “Hey, Ron! A Black and Tan?”
RON: “Nah, I cant afford those anymore. What’s the cheapest thing in here?”
ME: “You.”
RON & OTHER REGULARS:
(I had waited literally years for someone to ask me that very question.)
###
Last night, after a very busy 10 hour shift, I was finishing up. One of my coworkers saw that I was just about done with my paperwork...
CW: “So, ready for a drink?”
ME: “*A* drink? Oh, that’s funny. *A* drink? Hell no? I’m ready for MANY drinks!”
###
Late December, still holiday time. I’m sitting at one of my regular haunts, and am wearing a ridiculous Christmas hat, one that has a springy/boingy top to it, such as denizens of a Dr. Seuss story might wear. With me is Little Red. Tending bar is TweedleDee. Sitting at the bar with me and Little Red are TweedleDee’s identical twin brother, TweedleMee, TweedleMee’s girlfriend, Lonnie, who also works at the bar, and TweedleDee’s girlfriend, who ALSO works at the bar, Valurie. At various times, TweedleDee may have given Valurie a peck of a kiss here or there. Nothing obnoxious, nothing unprofessional.
Sitting to the other side of me from all my friends are two tourists, Bitter Bill and his wife, Caustic Cathy. They are clearly two miserable people.
After bitching about everything and anything (and being ignored by all of us sitting at the bar not working), Bitter Bill starts complaining about the bartender, TweedleDee, and now he’s “making out with random girls rather than working.” Apparently his girlfriend is “random girls,” plural. Lonnie, a complete sweetheart, sees that TweedleDee is about to say something unpleasant, and tries to smooth things over by saying something to the effect of “It’s all cool, everyone be chill.” To which Bitter Bill says to her, “Don’t be a cunt.”
At which point, TweedleMee, myself, and Little Red all stood up, ready to kick this guy’s ass. TweedleDee was ready to go as well. The Tweedle Twins both stand over 6’3”. Little Red is only 4’11” and a woman. So naturally this brave man focused on my 5’8” self, and my silly hat.
BITTER BILL: “Sit down, Elf.”
ME: “Go suck a candy cane!”
And it might have gotten ugly had the manager, Michigan Mike, not intervened at that point. Mike stands just a bit taller than me, and is definitely broader than me, but not a really intimidating physical presence. At least Bitter Bill thought so. This would be his undoing.
Mike managed to calm TweedleDee down, and walked the couple out front, along with Big Rosco, a rather large member of the staff. Mike basically told the couple that he’d pick up their bill, but they needed to leave. Bitter Bill, naturally, told Mike that he’d pay his own damn bill, not realizing that things were already past that point. And then, sizing Mike up as not that big a threat, Bitter Bill put his hands to Mike’s chest and shoved him. Dumb move.
Mike immediately grabbed the guy and pushed him down to the ground. Hard. Bitter Bill looked up, realizing he had seriously underestimated Mike. Then Mike, who had tried to be nice this whole time, turned to Big Rosco and said, “I’m down with this asshole, Rosco. He’s all yours.” Seeing Big Rosco looming over him, Bitter Bill found his feet and hightailed it out of there, with Caustic Cathy close behind.
And the staff is still laughing about “Go suck a candy cane!”
Happy New Year, CS!
GUY: “Can you tell me what time Caffeine Carl plays?”
I look at the guy, I look at the band cranking it on stage, and I look back at the guy.
ME: “Um....he’s playing right now. That’s him on stage.”
He look at the stage in bewilderment, thanks me, and goes on his way, presumably to schedule a vasectomy and end his genetic line forevermore.
Clearly a big fan of the greatest guitarist in Key West.
###
WOMAN: “May I have a Moscow Mule?”
ME: “Sure! Any particular vodka?”
WOMAN: “Vodka? No, that comes with rum.”
ME: “Ma’am? Moscow Mules are made with vodka.”
WOMAN: “I’m sure they’re made with rum.”
MORGAN FREEMAN’S VOICE: “But she was wrong. Moscow Mules are, in fact, made with vodka.”
ME: “Um, no ma’am, they’re made with vodka. Might you be thinking of a different drink?”
WOMAN: “...Oh, I’m thinking of a Dark and Stormy.”
MORGAN FREEMAN’S VOICE: “Yes, a Dark and Stormy IS made with rum.”
ME: “Yes, a Dark and Stormy IS made with rum.”
MORGAN FREEMAN:
###
WOULD BE COMEDIAN: (notices my wrist brace) “Why are you wearing your bowling glove?”
ME: (having not at all heard the same joke repeatedly for the last month plus, since I sprained my wrist) “Duuhh! It’s bowling night!
###
I was recently promoted to manager, among other events, and on the first day this was official, I had this conversation with my kickass boss...
ME: “For my first official act as manager, I’m firing myself.”
KAB: “I’m overruling that.”
ME: “Damn it!”
###
A bar I recently left had new management, and had made some unpopular choices, including raising the prices. One of the regulars walked in one night, and as he was flying to some other regulars, I approached.
ME: “Hey, Ron! A Black and Tan?”
RON: “Nah, I cant afford those anymore. What’s the cheapest thing in here?”
ME: “You.”
RON & OTHER REGULARS:
(I had waited literally years for someone to ask me that very question.)
###
Last night, after a very busy 10 hour shift, I was finishing up. One of my coworkers saw that I was just about done with my paperwork...
CW: “So, ready for a drink?”
ME: “*A* drink? Oh, that’s funny. *A* drink? Hell no? I’m ready for MANY drinks!”
###
Late December, still holiday time. I’m sitting at one of my regular haunts, and am wearing a ridiculous Christmas hat, one that has a springy/boingy top to it, such as denizens of a Dr. Seuss story might wear. With me is Little Red. Tending bar is TweedleDee. Sitting at the bar with me and Little Red are TweedleDee’s identical twin brother, TweedleMee, TweedleMee’s girlfriend, Lonnie, who also works at the bar, and TweedleDee’s girlfriend, who ALSO works at the bar, Valurie. At various times, TweedleDee may have given Valurie a peck of a kiss here or there. Nothing obnoxious, nothing unprofessional.
Sitting to the other side of me from all my friends are two tourists, Bitter Bill and his wife, Caustic Cathy. They are clearly two miserable people.
After bitching about everything and anything (and being ignored by all of us sitting at the bar not working), Bitter Bill starts complaining about the bartender, TweedleDee, and now he’s “making out with random girls rather than working.” Apparently his girlfriend is “random girls,” plural. Lonnie, a complete sweetheart, sees that TweedleDee is about to say something unpleasant, and tries to smooth things over by saying something to the effect of “It’s all cool, everyone be chill.” To which Bitter Bill says to her, “Don’t be a cunt.”
At which point, TweedleMee, myself, and Little Red all stood up, ready to kick this guy’s ass. TweedleDee was ready to go as well. The Tweedle Twins both stand over 6’3”. Little Red is only 4’11” and a woman. So naturally this brave man focused on my 5’8” self, and my silly hat.
BITTER BILL: “Sit down, Elf.”
ME: “Go suck a candy cane!”
And it might have gotten ugly had the manager, Michigan Mike, not intervened at that point. Mike stands just a bit taller than me, and is definitely broader than me, but not a really intimidating physical presence. At least Bitter Bill thought so. This would be his undoing.
Mike managed to calm TweedleDee down, and walked the couple out front, along with Big Rosco, a rather large member of the staff. Mike basically told the couple that he’d pick up their bill, but they needed to leave. Bitter Bill, naturally, told Mike that he’d pay his own damn bill, not realizing that things were already past that point. And then, sizing Mike up as not that big a threat, Bitter Bill put his hands to Mike’s chest and shoved him. Dumb move.
Mike immediately grabbed the guy and pushed him down to the ground. Hard. Bitter Bill looked up, realizing he had seriously underestimated Mike. Then Mike, who had tried to be nice this whole time, turned to Big Rosco and said, “I’m down with this asshole, Rosco. He’s all yours.” Seeing Big Rosco looming over him, Bitter Bill found his feet and hightailed it out of there, with Caustic Cathy close behind.
And the staff is still laughing about “Go suck a candy cane!”
Happy New Year, CS!
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