Tales from the New Job

[Pixelated]

I certainly hope you do refuse service to the idiot with the Great Dane. "The manager said it's OK!" -- her equivalent of "I'm the owner's daughter!"

And what the heck are "gator bites"?!

[notalwaysright]

Yay, Jester!

I feel bad for that dog. Also, your "are you still serving food? What about just a snack" is the equivalent of "are you open? I just need one thing" in the retail world.

[Jester]

New job, but still plenty of stupid and annoying people to deal with. Yay!

I'm not a Time Lord, and You're Not Bright Enough to Get the Reference

10:15 PM

HIM: "Are you still serving food?"
ME: "No, sorry, our kitchen closed at 10:00."
HIM: "Not even something quick?"
ME: "..."
ME:
ME: "Our kitchen is closed, sir."

Philosophical Questions to Ponder

For the love of all that is holy in Heaven, Earth, and everywhere else, why, I ask you WHY do people still think that showing the bartender a PHOTO of their ID on their phone is equivalent to showing the bartender their ID? Someone please tell me where there is a place where such a maneuver works? And can someone please explain to me why, when someone has their ID in their possession, they take a photo of it, and then intentionally leave it at home or at their hotel???

Yes, it happened yet again, this time with a guy from the UK trying to show me a picture of his passport. Which he did not have on him. Could I have taken his UK driver's license for his attempted alcoholic purchase? Of course I could have. But that, apparently, was with his ID, back at his hotel. Which brings up my final question: why in the flying FUCK would you be in a foreign country, be in possession of two valid IDs, and intentionally leave them at your hotel??? I need answers to these questions before I die.

This Dog is Not Open to the Public

This woman comes into the bar and orders some food to go from one of the servers. With her is her Great Dane. One of the staff informs her that we do not allow dogs. She tells them that the manager said it was okay, and she's just getting food to go anyway, so they leave it alone. Naturally, the manager had said no such thing, and was unaware that she was even there with her dog. We did not know that yet.

Once the server brings her her to go food, she takes it and sits down at my bar to eat it. Her Great Dane takes up the entire floor at that end of the bar, effectively blocking three of the seats at my 14 seat bar. When I mention that we don't allow dogs, she repeats the lie about the manager okaying it. So now I'm pissed at both her and my manager, because a woman I'm making no money off of is blocking off a quarter of my seats.

She asks for some water for her dog, and we provide it. I mentioned it was a Great Dane. I did not mention that it was a particularly slobbery, drooly Great Dane. It was. We're talking bulldog level slobbering it, but in the XXXL package size of a Great fucking Dane.

Two of my customers were sitting right by her, and they were cashing out, but she did not know that. She basically tells them they are going to have to move, because she and her dog are there. (I found this and other things out after the fact.) So now she's chasing off my customers, and effectively now blocking off five seats. Did I mention my bar only has 14 seats?

Some customers leaving the restaurant comment on how attractive the dog is, and ask if they can pet it. She tells them, "My dog is not part of your fucking vacation."

Eventually she leaves, and her dog leaves such a mess of water and slobber, that rather than clean it up with a few napkins, we had to get the dishwasher to come out with a fucking MOP.

The hostess, who witnessed most of this, decided to write on our sidewalk blackboard, "We are part of your vacation," which gave the staff a chuckle. And management decided that, if she returns (she's a local), we can and should refuse her service. And her not so little dog, too.

The Confusion is Strong in This One

HIM: "I'm here for a pickup order."
ME: (confused, as I didn't take any such order, and I know the day time bartender has cashed out, so she didn't take the order, and usually the bartender is the one that answers the phone, but on the off chance someone else took the order, I go back to the kitchen to look. Three tickets. None of them are to go.)
ME: "I'm sorry, sir, we don't have any to go orders. What did you order?"
HIM: "Gator bites."
ME: "Um, sir, we don't have any gator bites, and haven't as long as I've worked here." (Only three months, but still true.)
HIM: "Are you sure?"
ME: "Quite. Are you sure you ordered from us? Who did you call?"
HIM: "*name of our restaurant*"
ME: "I...don't know what to tell you."

With Apologies to Led Zeppelin, Her Time is Gonna Come

Three young women come into the bar. Early twenties, max. They order three drinks. The Short One and the Skinny One provide IDs, the British One tells me she doesn't have her ID with her. I politely explain that I cannot serve her without ID. Which prompts the Skinny One to say, "But she's British!" Ooookay.....and? I politely inform the young women that, regardless of where they are from, under Florida law, I must see proper identification for alcohol purchases. Which prompts the Skinny One to exclaim, "Be nice!" Because apparently following the law and not risking my job is being mean.

The Short One tells me that she works at Big Sports Bar, which is part of the same company as my bar, and so she gets 50% off. The Short One gets her tab, and tips me nothing. The Skinny One gets her tab, tips me nothing, and writes on the credit slip, "BE NICE!" The girls are now milling around the entrance, bitching about how mean I am, though I cannot hear them, and find this out later from the hostess. At this point, they see me go in the back. I was probably going to stock something, but they immediately assume I am going to call the police, and start freaking out, and quickly leave. The fact that they were out looking for drugs probably had a bit to do with that reaction, which is funny, because technically they did nothing illegal, and I'd have no basis to call the cops on them.

This should have been the end of the story. But as I like to say so often, there is a big difference between "should" and "is." It turned out that the Short One HAD worked at Big Sports Bar, but had been fired a few weeks prior, and was apparently going to all the establishments in the company and fraudulently using her discount, which of course she was no longer entitled to.

I look forward to the day I bump into her at a bar, or run across her working somewhere. It's a small island, after all.