I don't even know where to begin with tonight. A lot of people got thrown out.
I am wandering around clearing table, when I smell something. It smells good. Kinda like Indian food.
Wait a minute! We don't sell Indian food!
I walk around the corner, and there are four people sat eating take out, complete with their own beer!
Me: Excuse me!
Me: You can't bring take out in here! We sell our own food and drink!
SC: Well, where can we go?
Me: I don't know, but you can't eat and drink that here!
Me: Well for one thing, our licence doesn't cover people bringing in their own alcohol, I will get into trouble...
SC: Well, you can get in trouble then. Bye bye!
SC: I said, bye bye. You can leave now.
Me: No, YOU can leave now!
SC: Fine, but we won't be coming back.
Me: Thank fuck.
OK, maybe I shouldn't have said that, but I was VERY annoyed. These people were in their fifties, I felt like I was dealing with teenagers.
Children of Sucky Men
We were WAY past the point of allowing children in the bar. Afterall, what sane parent takes their child into a bar at 10pm?
I look into the beer garden, and I see a bunch of kids running around.
Me: Excuse me, but under eighteens are not allowed on the premesis this late at night.
SC: What?! We've bought drinks and ordered food! Why weren't we told before!?
Me: They must not have known...
SC: Well they should have asked! What are we going to do!?
Me: I will let you stay for your food, but after that I am afraid you will have to leave.
SC: This is really rude. Where else are we supposed to put our children at this hour?
How about bed, jackass?
I am not THAT stupid
A nervous woman walks up to me.
NW: I just saw someone be sick outside the gents toilets. I think he's still in there.
Me: OK, thank you for letting me know.
The sight was horrible. Pink sick, it stank of red wine. I walked into the gents and saw an older man hunched over a sink, coughing and spluttering. There was a neat trail of sick leading up to him.
He turned around to face me. His shirt was also COVERED in sick.
Drunk Man: It wasn't me!
A friend of his came in. I handed him a mop, and told him to get his friend off the bar.
The Meanist Old Man in the World
This story is long. The bar was busy, and a co-worker was doing a massive drink order (20 drinks) An old man was waiting near her register.
CW: Hi, if you move to another register, you might get served quicker. I have a huge order to do, so I might not get to you for a while.
SC: No. I'll wait.
Co-worker was busy doing the order, but the old man wasn't patient. He kept yelling things like "I've been here for hours!" "Hurry up!" "Am I ever going to be served??"
CW: Sir, I really think it would be best if you moved towards another register.
SC: I am not moving anywhere! You will serve me! Or are you so completely useless that you can't handle a big drink order!
CW: Sir, please don't speak to me like that. I will get to you as soon as I can.
SC: Hurry up you fucking...
CW: Sir! Do not swear at me! If you are going to be abusive, I will not serve you.
CW: OK sir, GO to another register. I am not serving you.
SC: You useless whore.
CW: OK, forget that! You are not getting served at all!
CW walked down the bar and told all the staff what he had said.
SC: Manager! Manager! I want a manager!
This is where I came in. Now, I am completely unaware of the situation.
Me: Sir, what seems to be the problem?
SC: THAT girl will not serve me! She refused! She flat out said no!
Now, I know CW. She is unbelieveably nice. At this point, I knew he must have done something to upset her.
Me: Why is that sir?
SC: Because SHE has an attitude problem! I want her name so I can write and complain about her!
CW walked over.
CW: My name is co-worker.
He pulled out a notebook!
SC: And your last name?
Me: You don't need her last name.
SC: I want her last name! I also want her contact number!
CW: You're not getting my number! All you need to know is my name!
SC: That's not enough!
CW: Sir, I spoke to you earlier. I told you, you would be best moving to another register because I had such a huge order. I never ignored you, I was not rude to you, and I did not serve another customer ahead of you. Everyone was served in turn. You got abusive towards me, so I decided not to serve you
SC: *To me* You see what she's like!
Me: Sir, I believe her. In the whole time I have worked with her, she has been nothing but professional and friendly towards customers.
At this point, another co-worker jumps in.
CW2: Customersruinmylife, I'll back her up as well!
SC: This is a conspiracy. All to protect that useless...
Me: Sir, stop. You will not be getting served. You have the address of the bar, you have the name of the co-worker and you have my name. If you wish to write to the head manager, you may do. As far as I'm concerned, the matter is closed.
He walks away, VERY annoyed.
He comes back...screaming.
SC: My bag! My bag! My bag!
Me: What's wrong?
SC: My bag has been stolen!
Yup. In the time that he was going apeshit at us, someone stole his bag!
SC: EVERYTHING WAS IN THAT BAG!!!
Talk about karma. I had to review the CCTV, call the police and get him to write down the contents of the bag.
SC: I could use a drink.
Me: Sir, I'm sorry about your bag, but you're still not getting served.
After all that, he STILL hung around.
Oh, and guess what we found under a table after he left?
That's right, his fucking bag.
A couple were sat down drinking. A VERY angry woman enters.
VAW: OH MY GOD! YOU'RE WITH HEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRR!!
Husband: Honey, it's not like that.
VAW: YOU PROMISED ME IT WAS OVER! YOU PROMISED ME!
Husband: Honey, no, I'm sorry, please!
Very angry woman picks up his (full) pint, and throws it in his face.
VAW: YOU BASTARD! YOU LYING, CHEATING BASTARD!!
He ran after her, leaving the "other woman" behind.
A group of very young people came in.
Me: Can I see some I.D please?
The guy looked about 15. He was also blond. He handed me a passport that had a 1985 birthdate on it. Except the photo was of a guy with black hair and a beard.
Me: That's not you.
Me: Please leave.
Co-worker was serving one of his friends.
CW: Sir, this I.D you gave me....
CW: It says 1991 on it. It proves you are 16. Not 18.
SC: Oh, I gave you the wrong one! Here!
He hands her the fakest looking I.D I have ever seen.
CW: OK, I am not accepting this, and I am keeping this fake I.D.
SC: No!! Please!
At this point, three co-workers are screaming and laughing, as are a few customers.
CW: Get out.
They hung around, whispering, probably trying to think of ways to get served. They eventually left.
And all this happened in one night.