More of the usual. No, seriously, make it a double. No, three doubles.
Me: Yo.
SC: If they listen with their ears and not their mouths, we wouldn't have a site, now would we?
Part One: Loading Zone Woes
We
used to have two signs marking our Loading Zone, up until someone thought it'd be funny to just run one down. I don't know if they were drunk or not, but ever since, keeping our loading zone clear during show nights has been a pain in the ass. Lately, we've been mentally marking off where the loading zone ends and asking people to move if they're not actively loading/unloading band gear. Here's a list of the things I've been told in response to 'This is a loading zone; could you move your vehicle please?'
SC: I don't see a sign here! (We've got the stub of the sign still marking it off, so just pretend it's there. It'll make it easier on all of us.)
SC: I'm only going in for a few minutes! (Replace 'minutes' with 'drinks' and you're closer to the truth.)
SC: I've got tits! Do those count as equipment?! (Only if you're a hooker. And yes, some girl actually did ask me that when I told her to move her van. She was even going to Rivalbar and not our bar, so that made it worse on her.)
SC: I park here all the time during the week! (And I'm sure the guys who keep us stocked up with beer and liquor during the week love you for that. Seriously.)
SC: I'm only gonna pick someone up. (Okay, there's been some cases where they don't take longer than a couple minutes to find said someone and drag them out. The rest of the time, it's been 'meeting' someone instead of 'picking up' someone.)
We're still kicking the city's door down about the missing sign so they can get someone to replace it, because T and I are starting to really,
really hate our regulars at this point.
Part Two: Complimentary Q-Tips
One group of five stuck out in my mind pretty heavily last night amidst all the loading zone problems we had last night. They were actually headed to Rivalbar, but stopped in our bar for... something. Quick drink? ATM? Don't have a clue. It only took a couple minutes for one of the girls in the group to ask me where Rivalbar was. Cue the chaos.
SC: So how do I get to Rivalbar from here?
Me: Just walk to the corner and make a left. It's on the same block as us, just on the other side of the parking lot in back.
SC: So how many blocks do I go down?
Oh, jeez. She's still sober and she's asking dumb questions.
Me: It's on the same block as we're on. It's just on the other side of the parking lot from us, in back.
SC: So when I cross the street--
Me: You don't need to cross any streets to get there. You just need to head around the building.
SC: So what street am I gonna--
Lord God, give me the power of electrokinesis so I can shock some brains into this chick...
Me: It's
right. Behind. Us.
SC: Ohhhhh!
Halle-fucking-lujah, she gets it now!
SC: So I just go around the corner...
Me: Uh-huh.
SC: and it'll be right there?
Me: To the left.
SC: Oh, okay! Thank you! I'm gonna go get my friends now!
She runs in, gets her friends, and all of them head to Rivalbar. Good. Let
them deal with the IQ draining effect one of them has on people.
Oh, why did I call this section 'Complimentary Q-Tips?' I'm sorely tempted to suggest that at the next staff meeting we have.
Loading Zone Woes and Complimentary Q-Tips (long, language)
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