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Now I know why she needed a break. (long)
I'm back. Got some odd ones tonight...
First, a bit of info. Our bar has two entrances: the main one, which is our usual one, is the door I normally work at. The second one, which leads both to the main bar on the street level and our upstairs bar where the shows take place, is watched by a coworker on the weekends and the odd days when we have a show during the week. This weekend, she and her wife took off out of town for a much-needed break. The poor girl's overworked as it is, and between that job and watching their kids, both of them need a vacation. So I'm watching the door for her over the weekend, while one of our regulars is watching my regular door. It's almost the same thing, except in addition to checking IDs, I'm also ringing up cover charges as they're paid and either putting wristbands on the legal-drinking-age customers or marking Ms on the ones that are below that age so the staff upstairs can avoid serving them anything alcoholic.
Next to me, on the wall, is a dry-erase board where we have the cover charges and the list of bands playing that night written out in Expo marker. In addition to that is two phrases: "NO REFUNDS" and "NO GUEST LIST". 'No Guest List' was covered in my last topic, but the promoter hangs out on both floors just in case a question comes up. 'No Refunds' was in place long before I even learned how to work that register.
Above that board is a large sign that says 'No Glasses Or Mugs Upstairs'. We just burn through them too quickly downstairs, but our bartenders on ground level give plastic cups out free to anyone who asks for them.
I'm actually amazed I survived without snapping at anyone tonight!
Me: Some dude who really, REALLY needed a drink when he got home.
SC: Some of the reasons why.
SBM: Stupid Band Member, the rest of the reasons why.
Classic Clerks Moment!
SC: How much is the cover?
Me: Lemme see your ID. *checks the ID; he can drink!* It's gonna be $5.
SC: Okay. *SC walks away as I shake my head*
RTFB
SC: Who's playing tonight?
(I look over at the board to refresh my memory, then tell the customer who's playing and at what time.)
SC: Man, you guys should write that down somewhere or something.
Me: ...?!
I'll Just Move It Later
SBM: Am I alright if I stay parked there?
Me: I wish I could say 'yes', but we're still waiting on two more bands' worth of equipment.
SBM: Well, they got enough space behind me.
(SBM had rented a U-Haul truck to carry his band's equipment. 'Enough space' to him was about the length of a Mini Cooper away from the intersection.)
Me: Seriously, man, you gotta move your truck.
SBM: Alright, I'll do that right now.
(SBM walks back into the ground-floor bar and orders a drink.
)
Another Clerks Moment
(A pair of SCs walk up to my door at the same time.)
SC1: How much is it to come in?
Me: If you're here for the downstairs bar, it's free; I just need your ID. If you're here for the show, it's $5 for adults and $8 for minors.
SC2: Each?
Me: Yes, ma'am.
SC1: Can we pay now and check the show out later?
Me: It'd be better if you guys just pay the cover when you're ready to come up.
SC1: Okay, that's cool.
(BOTH SCs walk to the main entrance. Yep, out my door and in the other one.)
EDIT: Saturday's come and gone. I'm not going to make another thread, but edit this one. Redundant topic is redundant.
Tonight was six bands. Frickin' six bands. If it wasn't for the fact that all of them were death metal, something I was already in the mood for tonight, I'd have really gone ape. But that also means six more sets of chances of the entourage being... well... you know. Plus, it wasn't our usual promoter tonight; $10 cover no matter what the age, but still marking and giving wristbands as needed. Plus, we're still hammering out the idea of guest passes in an effort to prevent this from happening again, but still having to charge everyone that's not staff or a band member.
Me: Gonna be so hung over when I wake up tomorrow afternoon at this rate...
J: The owner/head manager of the bar.
SC: Same as before.
CC: They see me suffering and know I need some support. Bless their hearts!
SBM: Also the same as from last night.
CBM: Cool Band Member. If only I could drink on shift, I'd take them up on their drink offers!
With Special Guest Censor Bill Cosby!
(SC and CC, a father-and-son roadie team, are bringing a cab in through my door while CBM carries the amp and his guitar, as the elevator was currently being unloaded by Fourth Band at the time.)
Me: I need to check you guys in. What band are you with?
SC: I'm the father of the drummer from Second Band.
Me: Alright. Since we don't have a guest list, I need $10 each.
(CC is about to hand me his $10 and his ID when SC stops him.)
SC: No, put that (foul) back! Hey, I've never had to pay to get in before! I'm the drummer's father!
Me: I understand that, but it's our procedu--
CC: No, it's cool, I'll p--
SC: No, I'm not going to pay a (fouling) thing!
(CBM has already been carded and checked in by now, but he apparently wants to avoid drama, so he hands me $20.)
Me: This is for the both of them?
CBM: Yeah.
Me: Cool, thanks.
(SC gets his wristband and CC, who's about a year shy of 21, gets minor-marked, but SC's jets are still burning.)
SC: I wanna (filthing) talk to your (fouling) manager; this is bull(foul)!
(That's about the point where J walks up. His timing is excellent to the point of being downright scary sometimes.)
Me: He's right behind you.
J (to me): What's the problem?
Me: He was upset that he had to pay cover, so he was arguing with me. CBM just paid his and his son's cover, but SC is still upset over the policy.
(SC then repeats his rant to J, who in a nutshell tells him the same thing I did.)
SC: ...I still think it's bull(foul).
(SC and CC carry the amp upstairs, CBM carries his stuff upstairs and I pat him on the shoulder to say 'thank you'. J and I just look at each other and shake our heads.)
Stairwells vs. the Team of Stilettos and Liquor
(During one of the lulls in customer flow, I tilt my head upward so I can listen to Fourth Band's set. They sound pretty good, but I notice in my peripheral vision that coming down the stairs is a pair of girls that went up maybe five minutes earlier. The skinnier one, SC, somehow managed to get upstairs in a pair of stilettos, but on the way down, her balance was shot to hell, courtesy of the booze she drank. What was it, one shot?)
Me (to myself): Oh, shit.
(SC ALMOST made it all the way downstairs. About four or five steps from ground level, she loses her footing and falls toward the ground. From that height, she would've gotten out of it with bruises if she was lucky, but I can't take that chance. I shoot an arm out and manage to catch her by the waist, keeping her steady by putting my other hand on the back of her shoulder while her friend (CC) regains her hold on her.)
Me: (to CC) Got her?
CC: Yeah. Come on, SC, we gotta go.
Me: Make sure she gets home safe, okay?
(CC and SC make it out of the building, and halfway to the parking lot. I keep an eye on them the whole time to make sure they make it to their car, and sure enough, SC somehow managed to fall down, despite her full weight being on CC's side. I winced.)
Sure. Lemme Pull A Credit Card Machine Out Of My-- Never Mind.
(This happened three separate times. It all boils down to the same thing...)
Me: Okay, it's gonna be $10 each.
(SC pulls out a credit card.)
SC: Do you take these?
Me: I'm not set up for credit cards. We have an ATM right across from our main entrance, though.
SC: Are you sure?
(No. Our card readers teleport between registers at random intervals. You should see what our registers themselves do!)
And that's gonna do it. I can't WAIT for next weekend. At least I'll be back at my normal door...
First, a bit of info. Our bar has two entrances: the main one, which is our usual one, is the door I normally work at. The second one, which leads both to the main bar on the street level and our upstairs bar where the shows take place, is watched by a coworker on the weekends and the odd days when we have a show during the week. This weekend, she and her wife took off out of town for a much-needed break. The poor girl's overworked as it is, and between that job and watching their kids, both of them need a vacation. So I'm watching the door for her over the weekend, while one of our regulars is watching my regular door. It's almost the same thing, except in addition to checking IDs, I'm also ringing up cover charges as they're paid and either putting wristbands on the legal-drinking-age customers or marking Ms on the ones that are below that age so the staff upstairs can avoid serving them anything alcoholic.
Next to me, on the wall, is a dry-erase board where we have the cover charges and the list of bands playing that night written out in Expo marker. In addition to that is two phrases: "NO REFUNDS" and "NO GUEST LIST". 'No Guest List' was covered in my last topic, but the promoter hangs out on both floors just in case a question comes up. 'No Refunds' was in place long before I even learned how to work that register.
Above that board is a large sign that says 'No Glasses Or Mugs Upstairs'. We just burn through them too quickly downstairs, but our bartenders on ground level give plastic cups out free to anyone who asks for them.
I'm actually amazed I survived without snapping at anyone tonight!
Me: Some dude who really, REALLY needed a drink when he got home.
SC: Some of the reasons why.
SBM: Stupid Band Member, the rest of the reasons why.
Classic Clerks Moment!
SC: How much is the cover?
Me: Lemme see your ID. *checks the ID; he can drink!* It's gonna be $5.
SC: Okay. *SC walks away as I shake my head*
RTFB
SC: Who's playing tonight?
(I look over at the board to refresh my memory, then tell the customer who's playing and at what time.)
SC: Man, you guys should write that down somewhere or something.
Me: ...?!
I'll Just Move It Later
SBM: Am I alright if I stay parked there?
Me: I wish I could say 'yes', but we're still waiting on two more bands' worth of equipment.
SBM: Well, they got enough space behind me.
(SBM had rented a U-Haul truck to carry his band's equipment. 'Enough space' to him was about the length of a Mini Cooper away from the intersection.)
Me: Seriously, man, you gotta move your truck.
SBM: Alright, I'll do that right now.
(SBM walks back into the ground-floor bar and orders a drink.
)Another Clerks Moment
(A pair of SCs walk up to my door at the same time.)
SC1: How much is it to come in?
Me: If you're here for the downstairs bar, it's free; I just need your ID. If you're here for the show, it's $5 for adults and $8 for minors.
SC2: Each?
Me: Yes, ma'am.
SC1: Can we pay now and check the show out later?
Me: It'd be better if you guys just pay the cover when you're ready to come up.
SC1: Okay, that's cool.
(BOTH SCs walk to the main entrance. Yep, out my door and in the other one.)
EDIT: Saturday's come and gone. I'm not going to make another thread, but edit this one. Redundant topic is redundant.
Tonight was six bands. Frickin' six bands. If it wasn't for the fact that all of them were death metal, something I was already in the mood for tonight, I'd have really gone ape. But that also means six more sets of chances of the entourage being... well... you know. Plus, it wasn't our usual promoter tonight; $10 cover no matter what the age, but still marking and giving wristbands as needed. Plus, we're still hammering out the idea of guest passes in an effort to prevent this from happening again, but still having to charge everyone that's not staff or a band member.
Me: Gonna be so hung over when I wake up tomorrow afternoon at this rate...
J: The owner/head manager of the bar.
SC: Same as before.
CC: They see me suffering and know I need some support. Bless their hearts!
SBM: Also the same as from last night.
CBM: Cool Band Member. If only I could drink on shift, I'd take them up on their drink offers!
With Special Guest Censor Bill Cosby!
(SC and CC, a father-and-son roadie team, are bringing a cab in through my door while CBM carries the amp and his guitar, as the elevator was currently being unloaded by Fourth Band at the time.)
Me: I need to check you guys in. What band are you with?
SC: I'm the father of the drummer from Second Band.
Me: Alright. Since we don't have a guest list, I need $10 each.
(CC is about to hand me his $10 and his ID when SC stops him.)
SC: No, put that (foul) back! Hey, I've never had to pay to get in before! I'm the drummer's father!
Me: I understand that, but it's our procedu--
CC: No, it's cool, I'll p--
SC: No, I'm not going to pay a (fouling) thing!
(CBM has already been carded and checked in by now, but he apparently wants to avoid drama, so he hands me $20.)
Me: This is for the both of them?
CBM: Yeah.
Me: Cool, thanks.
(SC gets his wristband and CC, who's about a year shy of 21, gets minor-marked, but SC's jets are still burning.)
SC: I wanna (filthing) talk to your (fouling) manager; this is bull(foul)!
(That's about the point where J walks up. His timing is excellent to the point of being downright scary sometimes.)
Me: He's right behind you.
J (to me): What's the problem?
Me: He was upset that he had to pay cover, so he was arguing with me. CBM just paid his and his son's cover, but SC is still upset over the policy.
(SC then repeats his rant to J, who in a nutshell tells him the same thing I did.)
SC: ...I still think it's bull(foul).
(SC and CC carry the amp upstairs, CBM carries his stuff upstairs and I pat him on the shoulder to say 'thank you'. J and I just look at each other and shake our heads.)
Stairwells vs. the Team of Stilettos and Liquor
(During one of the lulls in customer flow, I tilt my head upward so I can listen to Fourth Band's set. They sound pretty good, but I notice in my peripheral vision that coming down the stairs is a pair of girls that went up maybe five minutes earlier. The skinnier one, SC, somehow managed to get upstairs in a pair of stilettos, but on the way down, her balance was shot to hell, courtesy of the booze she drank. What was it, one shot?)
Me (to myself): Oh, shit.
(SC ALMOST made it all the way downstairs. About four or five steps from ground level, she loses her footing and falls toward the ground. From that height, she would've gotten out of it with bruises if she was lucky, but I can't take that chance. I shoot an arm out and manage to catch her by the waist, keeping her steady by putting my other hand on the back of her shoulder while her friend (CC) regains her hold on her.)
Me: (to CC) Got her?
CC: Yeah. Come on, SC, we gotta go.
Me: Make sure she gets home safe, okay?
(CC and SC make it out of the building, and halfway to the parking lot. I keep an eye on them the whole time to make sure they make it to their car, and sure enough, SC somehow managed to fall down, despite her full weight being on CC's side. I winced.)
Sure. Lemme Pull A Credit Card Machine Out Of My-- Never Mind.
(This happened three separate times. It all boils down to the same thing...)
Me: Okay, it's gonna be $10 each.
(SC pulls out a credit card.)
SC: Do you take these?
Me: I'm not set up for credit cards. We have an ATM right across from our main entrance, though.
SC: Are you sure?
(No. Our card readers teleport between registers at random intervals. You should see what our registers themselves do!)
And that's gonna do it. I can't WAIT for next weekend. At least I'll be back at my normal door...