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Each of the last two days, I had a whack job to deal with at the bar. Oddly enough, they each sat in the exact same spot. If I hadn't worked at The Bar for several years and dealt with many people in that same spot who were sane, lucid, and rational, I'd be dubbing that the Batshit Crazy chair.
The less crazy of the two, Crazy Dee, came in yesterday. She was a reasonably attractive young lady who seemed like she'd had a couple drinks, but wasn't over the edge. I carded her, much to her delight, and she asked for a good dark rum for sipping. Naturally I recommended Zacapa 23, one of my go to rums. And then I started to talked to her, as I had no other customers. And that was my first mistake.
Where was she from? "Oh, *laugh laugh*, I live here. But I'm leaving tomorrow." Really? Where was she going? "I don't really want to tell anyone. Ooooookay....and that was when I had my first inkling that she was a loony tune. Luckily, I got some other customers then, but for the duration of her stay, Crazy Dee alternately talked to me (even when I wasn't listening or responding) or talked to various people on her cell phone, varying from annoyed to upset to bemused to just downright bonkers. People she had trusted who she'd left a bag with had gotten rid of the bag, she couldn't trust anyone, everyone was such an asshole, etc. She was clearly one of those people that creates their own drama, and then wonders why they have so much drama in their life. And I am not oblivious to the fact that people have bad days, but if you had seen and talked to her, or even heard her, you'd know that it went beyond that, that this girl was clearly a few hamsters short of an operational wheel. The guy working on some business a few chairs down even commented on it after she left. But before she left, she had another Zacapa, and of course when the bill came, even after I very nicely gave her the locals discount, she tipped me all of 10%, saying it was all she had. Good thing I'd given her the discount, or "all she had" would have just covered the cost of the two rums, with no tip for the brilliant bartender.
Question: who goes out to a bar with a small amount of money, asks for a good rum, and doesn't ask how much said rum is? Answer: people who are really cheap or people who don't have all their eggs in their Easter basket.
And Crazy Dee should have been the lowlight of the week, but the day before, in that very same seat, I had the pleasure of dealing with Crazy Dum. Picture a slightly younger and slightly pudgier version of Kenny Rogers, who is somewhere between the regions of Stupid and Drunk, but definitely with a foot in each, and you'll have Crazy Dum. I wasn't busy when he sat down, having only a few people at my bar, so I approached I'm immediately. "Hey, how ha doin'?"
Nothing. No reaction. He just stared at me. And not the typical crazy person vacant stare, either. But a piercing stare, as if he was trying to determine everything there was to know about me by staring into my very soul. The kind of stare you might expect from a man if you'd dated his daughter and left her stranded on the side of the road outside of Albuquerque after disappearing with her for several days to Burning Man. Yeah, THAT stare.
After several seconds of absolutely no reaction beyond that stare, I tried a new tack.
ME: "Can I get you something to drink?"
CD:
CD:
CD:
CD:
CD:
CD: "Long Island Tea."
(Seriously, it was like he was on a 5-7 second delay. Like a very slow a Terminator, looking through his data banks for the right answer.)
ME: "Certainly. And would you like a food menu?"
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD: "Yes."
So I hand him a food menu, which he makes no effort to look at, and make him his LIT. I come back a few minutes later to see if he's ready to order.
ME: "So, any decisions on food?"
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD: "Do you have any oysters?"
ME: "Nope."
CD:
CD: "Any clams?"
ME: "Afraid not. We don't really have a raw bar here."
CD:
CD: "I suppose I should look at the menu."
ME: "It's been known to help."
CD: (doesn't laugh, and makes no effort to pick up or look at the menu in front of him' but at least he seems to have broken through his broadcast delay!)
I go down the bar a bit to give him some time, and to talk to a couple of military guys who were sitting there. The three of us starting talking about music and dead musicians. And then, out of nowhere....
CD: "That's probably why you're doing so shitty."
ME: "Excuse me?"
CD: "That's probably why you're doing so shitty."
At this point, I'm very confused, as are the military guys. I don't know if he's talking about me personally, about the three of us, about our generation, about the music, about the bar...I'm totally lost. So are the other two.
ME: "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what you're talking about."
CD: "You clearly don't understand the concept."
ME: "I don't think I even understand the question!"
At which point, the CD1000 returns to silent mode, leaving me and the other two very, very confused. I continue to go about my duties behind the bar, taking care of the few customers I have. And then, as I am taking a bus tub of dishes to the back, I see Crazy Dum get up from his seat and head to the front door, his drink only half finished. Immediately I realized he's not heading out for a smoke, but is just flat out leaving, as he rounds the corner of the door and starts heading down the sidewalk. With my hands full, I immediately alert the Manager: "Hey, Sally, that guy is trying to leave without paying!"
And as quickly as I can, I put the full bus tub down by the dish station in back, and head out after them, as Sally is a very small girl, and I have no idea if the Crazynater might get violent. I catch up to the two of them about half a block down, where Sally is informing him that he did not pay his bill. He simply gives her That Stare.
ME: "Sir, you need to pay your tab."
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD: "How much is it?"
ME: "$8.50."
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD finally stops staring, and fumbles around with his wallet for a bit, eventually producing a credit card. No, he doesn't follow us back into the bar to pay, as a normal person or even a drunk would do. He is simply going to make us do all the leg work while he stands there on the sidewalk. Fine. Whatever. So, not too happy about leaving Sally standing there with him, even in broad daylight, I hoof it back into the bar with his credit card, having a Bad Feeling About This.
Military Guy 1: "Ya caught him?"
ME: "Yep. He gave me this card. I'll be shocked if it works."
Military Guys:
I was shocked. It worked!
I go back out to the sidewalk where I wait while Crazy Dum signs the credit card slip. Naturally, he left no tip. I was not even vaguely surprised. I was just happy to have that chapter of my life OVER!
I don't always remember faces or people, but I will not forget Crazy Dum, and I made it really clear to Sally that if he ever returned to my bar, I would not serve him. Told my GM that the next day, and my GM went one further, saying that as far as he is concerned, the guy is 86'd, since he tried to leave without paying. At times like these, I really do appreciate my management. I don't always agree with them, but they are not going to put up with shit like this.
Luckily, I will not have to deal with any crazy customers today, as I have the day off, and a full day of self-pampering planned, including my annual massage, a lovely sushi lunch, a rum tasting, and watching the World Series Game 7.
The less crazy of the two, Crazy Dee, came in yesterday. She was a reasonably attractive young lady who seemed like she'd had a couple drinks, but wasn't over the edge. I carded her, much to her delight, and she asked for a good dark rum for sipping. Naturally I recommended Zacapa 23, one of my go to rums. And then I started to talked to her, as I had no other customers. And that was my first mistake.
Where was she from? "Oh, *laugh laugh*, I live here. But I'm leaving tomorrow." Really? Where was she going? "I don't really want to tell anyone. Ooooookay....and that was when I had my first inkling that she was a loony tune. Luckily, I got some other customers then, but for the duration of her stay, Crazy Dee alternately talked to me (even when I wasn't listening or responding) or talked to various people on her cell phone, varying from annoyed to upset to bemused to just downright bonkers. People she had trusted who she'd left a bag with had gotten rid of the bag, she couldn't trust anyone, everyone was such an asshole, etc. She was clearly one of those people that creates their own drama, and then wonders why they have so much drama in their life. And I am not oblivious to the fact that people have bad days, but if you had seen and talked to her, or even heard her, you'd know that it went beyond that, that this girl was clearly a few hamsters short of an operational wheel. The guy working on some business a few chairs down even commented on it after she left. But before she left, she had another Zacapa, and of course when the bill came, even after I very nicely gave her the locals discount, she tipped me all of 10%, saying it was all she had. Good thing I'd given her the discount, or "all she had" would have just covered the cost of the two rums, with no tip for the brilliant bartender.
Question: who goes out to a bar with a small amount of money, asks for a good rum, and doesn't ask how much said rum is? Answer: people who are really cheap or people who don't have all their eggs in their Easter basket.
And Crazy Dee should have been the lowlight of the week, but the day before, in that very same seat, I had the pleasure of dealing with Crazy Dum. Picture a slightly younger and slightly pudgier version of Kenny Rogers, who is somewhere between the regions of Stupid and Drunk, but definitely with a foot in each, and you'll have Crazy Dum. I wasn't busy when he sat down, having only a few people at my bar, so I approached I'm immediately. "Hey, how ha doin'?"
Nothing. No reaction. He just stared at me. And not the typical crazy person vacant stare, either. But a piercing stare, as if he was trying to determine everything there was to know about me by staring into my very soul. The kind of stare you might expect from a man if you'd dated his daughter and left her stranded on the side of the road outside of Albuquerque after disappearing with her for several days to Burning Man. Yeah, THAT stare.
After several seconds of absolutely no reaction beyond that stare, I tried a new tack.
ME: "Can I get you something to drink?"
CD:
CD:
CD:
CD:
CD:
CD: "Long Island Tea."
(Seriously, it was like he was on a 5-7 second delay. Like a very slow a Terminator, looking through his data banks for the right answer.)
ME: "Certainly. And would you like a food menu?"
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD: "Yes."
So I hand him a food menu, which he makes no effort to look at, and make him his LIT. I come back a few minutes later to see if he's ready to order.
ME: "So, any decisions on food?"
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD: "Do you have any oysters?"
ME: "Nope."
CD:
CD: "Any clams?"
ME: "Afraid not. We don't really have a raw bar here."
CD:
CD: "I suppose I should look at the menu."
ME: "It's been known to help."
CD: (doesn't laugh, and makes no effort to pick up or look at the menu in front of him' but at least he seems to have broken through his broadcast delay!)
I go down the bar a bit to give him some time, and to talk to a couple of military guys who were sitting there. The three of us starting talking about music and dead musicians. And then, out of nowhere....
CD: "That's probably why you're doing so shitty."
ME: "Excuse me?"
CD: "That's probably why you're doing so shitty."
At this point, I'm very confused, as are the military guys. I don't know if he's talking about me personally, about the three of us, about our generation, about the music, about the bar...I'm totally lost. So are the other two.
ME: "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what you're talking about."
CD: "You clearly don't understand the concept."
ME: "I don't think I even understand the question!"
At which point, the CD1000 returns to silent mode, leaving me and the other two very, very confused. I continue to go about my duties behind the bar, taking care of the few customers I have. And then, as I am taking a bus tub of dishes to the back, I see Crazy Dum get up from his seat and head to the front door, his drink only half finished. Immediately I realized he's not heading out for a smoke, but is just flat out leaving, as he rounds the corner of the door and starts heading down the sidewalk. With my hands full, I immediately alert the Manager: "Hey, Sally, that guy is trying to leave without paying!"
And as quickly as I can, I put the full bus tub down by the dish station in back, and head out after them, as Sally is a very small girl, and I have no idea if the Crazynater might get violent. I catch up to the two of them about half a block down, where Sally is informing him that he did not pay his bill. He simply gives her That Stare.
ME: "Sir, you need to pay your tab."
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD: "How much is it?"
ME: "$8.50."
CD:
(5 excruciatingly long seconds later...)
CD finally stops staring, and fumbles around with his wallet for a bit, eventually producing a credit card. No, he doesn't follow us back into the bar to pay, as a normal person or even a drunk would do. He is simply going to make us do all the leg work while he stands there on the sidewalk. Fine. Whatever. So, not too happy about leaving Sally standing there with him, even in broad daylight, I hoof it back into the bar with his credit card, having a Bad Feeling About This.
Military Guy 1: "Ya caught him?"
ME: "Yep. He gave me this card. I'll be shocked if it works."
Military Guys:
I was shocked. It worked!
I go back out to the sidewalk where I wait while Crazy Dum signs the credit card slip. Naturally, he left no tip. I was not even vaguely surprised. I was just happy to have that chapter of my life OVER!
I don't always remember faces or people, but I will not forget Crazy Dum, and I made it really clear to Sally that if he ever returned to my bar, I would not serve him. Told my GM that the next day, and my GM went one further, saying that as far as he is concerned, the guy is 86'd, since he tried to leave without paying. At times like these, I really do appreciate my management. I don't always agree with them, but they are not going to put up with shit like this.
Luckily, I will not have to deal with any crazy customers today, as I have the day off, and a full day of self-pampering planned, including my annual massage, a lovely sushi lunch, a rum tasting, and watching the World Series Game 7.
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