Tweet
Welcome to the Romper Room Bar!
I love my job. I really do. But a recent decision by management has me aggravated to no end. Because we are a “family restaurant,” the Boss Man has decided that we will no longer have a rule of no one under 21 sitting at the bar. Obviously no one under 21 can drink (that’s a law, after all), but now anyone can sit at the bar, and people can have their children there too. Though at night, after the kitchen closes, the old rule will be back in effect.
In theory, I understand his reasoning. We ARE a restaurant, and a family-friendly one. But we also are a bar, and we show a lot of sporting events, and there are a lot of times people will be at the bar using all kinds of coarse language. If and when people get uncomfortable using such language around children, they will patronize another place for their sporting events.
And frankly, it is my opinion that children don’t belong at a bar. Period. Take yesterday. Near the end of my shift, a family of five comes in, and they head straight to the bar. The father lifts his oldest child (maybe five?) on to a bar stool, and the kid immediately dumps his toy dinosaurs (or soldiers, or whatever they were) on to the bar and begins playing with them while Dad orders drinks for Mom and himself. Add to this that one of the other children was alternating whining and screeching at the parents, and it was all I could do to keep a straight face and not kill them all. (No jury would have found it to be unjustified.) Luckily for me, they decided to take their drinks to go (something you can do in this town), but I know such a situation is coming that is going to drive me batty.
Meh. Complete and total meh.
I Wonder If They Have a Twelve-Step Program for This
I am somewhat addicted to Golden Tee, a popular golf video game which many of may be familiar with. This is rather ironic, considering my lack of interest in actual golf, either as a participant or a spectator. That being said, I now know for certain it is a true addiction, due to my ridiculous excitement yesterday at getting my first hole-in-one in about seven years. (To be fair, it was a very sweet shot!)
Down Under ID Fun
Three Twentysomething guys come in to the bar the other day and order drinks. Due to their youthful appearance, I ask for ID’s. Despite their Australian accent, one provides a British driver’s license. This is fine, as I can accept those, and see enough of them to recognize it. The second guy shows me a “Proof of Age Card” from, I presume, Australia. Frankly, it didn’t matter where it was from.
JESTER: “I’m sorry, I can’t accept that ID.”
SC: “Why not?”
JESTER: “Because under Florida law, I can only accept certain forms of ID for alcohol purchases, and that is not one of them.”
SC: “What? But you took his?”
JESTER: “Yes. He has a driver’s license. I can accept that. I can also accept a passport. The only other ID’s I can accept besides those are US Armed Forces ID cards and State-Issued ID cards.”
SC: “This IS a state-issued ID card!”
JESTER: “It has to be a U.S. State, sir.”
SC: “But why?”
JESTER: “Because that is all that Florida law will allow me to take.”
SC: “But WHY?”
This probably would have continued for a while longer, but luckily for me the first guy intervened and convinced his friend that I had to, you know, follow the fucking law.
I hate it when I explain the law to them very calmly and succinctly, and they still question me as if I can just wave my hand and change the law. So to these folks who think like this, and/or the people who don’t understand why I can’t just ignore the law altogether or change reality: fuck off!
Common Conversation
JESTER: “Would you like a to go cup for your drink?”
CUSTOMER: “What? We can drink on the streets here?”
JESTER: “Yep.”
CUSTOMER: “Really?”
JESTER: “Yep.”
CUSTOMER: ”REALLY?!?”
JESTER: “Absolutely.”
Yes. Really. Really really.
Annoying Semi-Common Conversation
SC: “Do you have any rum from [country]?”
JESTER: “No, sorry, we don’t.”
SC: “Are you sure?”
JESTER: “Yes. But we do have 150 or so other rums.” Big smile.
SC: “I’m sure. But we had our heart sent on some rum from [country].” Leaves.
My apologies for not having every rum ever made from every corner of the galaxy. And further apologies for not having the rotgut that you were asking for, that every person with taste says is comparable to paint thinner. And my deepest apologies for you actually thinking that THAT is good rum, for considering yourself a “rum drinker,” and for not showing the slightest sense of adventure by trying something new.
Jester the All-Knowing, Part 1
CUSTOMER: “Do you know if we can get this rum up where we live?”
Sure. Let me just tap into the psychic energy of the universe, direct my astral self to Mosquito Sweat, Ohio, and search the stock of every liquor store within 50 miles to ascertain that. After all, the fact that I live in Florida, over a thousand miles from where you live, should not limit my knowledge of the distribution potential for our 150+ rums that we carry. Let me get right on that.
(Yes, I get this question constantly. At least once a week, if not once a day.)
Jester the All-Knowing, Part 2
CUSTOMER: “Where are all the people at today?” OR “Which bars are happening today?” OR “Where are all the hot chicks at today?”
Despite the fact that I am working in THIS bar, and have been here since an hour before we opened (and an hour after I woke up), and thus have not been out and about doing recon for your social needs, wants, and desires, I should have no problem with this query. Let me just close my eyes and listen in to the Universal Buzz so I can most accurately pinpoint, from within this bar, the other bars in town that are most hopping. Let me get right on that.
(Yes, I get these questions constantly as well. At least once a week, if not once a day.)
Jester the All-Knowing, Part 3
“Am I going to like this?”
“Will that be enough food for me?”
“Will that be too much food for me?”
“Will that be too spicy for me?”
“What’s good?”
Although I have only known you 4.5 seconds, know none of your likes and dislikes, and have no idea what your particular appetite is like, I am a Bartender, and as such will be able to simply look at you and answer these questions you have concerning your personal taste and eating abilities. Let me get right on that.
(Pretty much every bartender and food server gets these questions constantly. At least once a day, if not hourly.)
Philosophical Point—Debate It If You Want To
I have noticed that, generally speaking, the customers who preface their question with the statement, “I have a stupid question,” generally speaking, are more intelligent and have more intelligent questions than the people who don’t. My thought on this is that if you are aware enough to worry that your question may be stupid, it probably isn’t. Further, I think that anyone who says, “I want to do something annoying” or “I am going to be difficult here” generally are not near as annoying or difficult as A. they think they are, and B. the really difficult and annoying people.
Discuss amongst yourselves.
The Cheap Bastard Roll Call
Every single one of these people was American, and thus familiar with the social custom of tipping.
And yet there was the three louder older people who left me $2.25 on $23.
The four ladies who left me $2.75 on $26.
The three women and one guy who left me $4 on $54.
These were all within an hour.
But I can let these people off with just a muttered curse upon their families, for maybe they miscounted, maybe there was miscommunication among the group, and maybe they were not as familiar as the vast majority of Americans are with this social custom.
But the one guy I can’t let off the hook was the jackass who came in with Bar Money. To the various concierges and other people in positions to do so who give away our coupons and get people in our bar, we kick back a certain amount of “Bar Money” that is, in essence, a gift certificate redeemable at our establishment only. Basically we’re giving them free food and drinks. And the overwhelming majority of people who use these are great. But this dude came in, bought some drinks, used Bar Money to pay for them…and then he didn’t even have the decency to pretend to forget to tip me. No, King Cheap Bastard had the gall to tell me he didn’t have any money with him, but he would be back later to get another round and tip me then. Anyone want to guess when he returned with said tip?
If you guessed “Never,” pat yourself on the back, because you are Absolutely Right.
If You’re Lucky Enough to Be Alive, You’re Lucky Enough.
My Rockin’ Manager’s best friend Happy from up north last week, without warning, had a heart attack one day, a stroke the next, was put into an induced coma, and after that the family was given a choice of her being a vegetable or them pulling the plug. They pulled the plug and let her die.
I am not here to debate the rightness or wrongness of the family’s decision, though I agree with it, as did RM. I am here to remind you to cherish your time in this life and to enjoy every day you have, as you never know when it will end. Far too often, it ends too soon.
Some might question why I would put this here in the “Sucky Customers” section. Personally, I think Happy would get a kick out of it. I have to tell you that Happy was always smiling, always enjoying her time when she was down here in Key West, and always had fun. She was an absolute blast to be around, she had a great sense of humor, and I liked her a lot.
Happy was a week older than me. She was only 39. So please, have fun. Enjoy your day, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. Make the best of bad situations, and find positive where others only find negatives. Eat. Drink. Be merry. For tomorrow, my friends, we die.
To Happy! Miss ya, girl….and the next cold one’s for you.
I love my job. I really do. But a recent decision by management has me aggravated to no end. Because we are a “family restaurant,” the Boss Man has decided that we will no longer have a rule of no one under 21 sitting at the bar. Obviously no one under 21 can drink (that’s a law, after all), but now anyone can sit at the bar, and people can have their children there too. Though at night, after the kitchen closes, the old rule will be back in effect.
In theory, I understand his reasoning. We ARE a restaurant, and a family-friendly one. But we also are a bar, and we show a lot of sporting events, and there are a lot of times people will be at the bar using all kinds of coarse language. If and when people get uncomfortable using such language around children, they will patronize another place for their sporting events.
And frankly, it is my opinion that children don’t belong at a bar. Period. Take yesterday. Near the end of my shift, a family of five comes in, and they head straight to the bar. The father lifts his oldest child (maybe five?) on to a bar stool, and the kid immediately dumps his toy dinosaurs (or soldiers, or whatever they were) on to the bar and begins playing with them while Dad orders drinks for Mom and himself. Add to this that one of the other children was alternating whining and screeching at the parents, and it was all I could do to keep a straight face and not kill them all. (No jury would have found it to be unjustified.) Luckily for me, they decided to take their drinks to go (something you can do in this town), but I know such a situation is coming that is going to drive me batty.
Meh. Complete and total meh.
I Wonder If They Have a Twelve-Step Program for This
I am somewhat addicted to Golden Tee, a popular golf video game which many of may be familiar with. This is rather ironic, considering my lack of interest in actual golf, either as a participant or a spectator. That being said, I now know for certain it is a true addiction, due to my ridiculous excitement yesterday at getting my first hole-in-one in about seven years. (To be fair, it was a very sweet shot!)
Down Under ID Fun
Three Twentysomething guys come in to the bar the other day and order drinks. Due to their youthful appearance, I ask for ID’s. Despite their Australian accent, one provides a British driver’s license. This is fine, as I can accept those, and see enough of them to recognize it. The second guy shows me a “Proof of Age Card” from, I presume, Australia. Frankly, it didn’t matter where it was from.
JESTER: “I’m sorry, I can’t accept that ID.”
SC: “Why not?”
JESTER: “Because under Florida law, I can only accept certain forms of ID for alcohol purchases, and that is not one of them.”
SC: “What? But you took his?”
JESTER: “Yes. He has a driver’s license. I can accept that. I can also accept a passport. The only other ID’s I can accept besides those are US Armed Forces ID cards and State-Issued ID cards.”
SC: “This IS a state-issued ID card!”
JESTER: “It has to be a U.S. State, sir.”
SC: “But why?”
JESTER: “Because that is all that Florida law will allow me to take.”
SC: “But WHY?”
This probably would have continued for a while longer, but luckily for me the first guy intervened and convinced his friend that I had to, you know, follow the fucking law.
I hate it when I explain the law to them very calmly and succinctly, and they still question me as if I can just wave my hand and change the law. So to these folks who think like this, and/or the people who don’t understand why I can’t just ignore the law altogether or change reality: fuck off!
Common Conversation
JESTER: “Would you like a to go cup for your drink?”
CUSTOMER: “What? We can drink on the streets here?”
JESTER: “Yep.”
CUSTOMER: “Really?”
JESTER: “Yep.”
CUSTOMER: ”REALLY?!?”
JESTER: “Absolutely.”
Yes. Really. Really really.
Annoying Semi-Common Conversation
SC: “Do you have any rum from [country]?”
JESTER: “No, sorry, we don’t.”
SC: “Are you sure?”
JESTER: “Yes. But we do have 150 or so other rums.” Big smile.
SC: “I’m sure. But we had our heart sent on some rum from [country].” Leaves.
My apologies for not having every rum ever made from every corner of the galaxy. And further apologies for not having the rotgut that you were asking for, that every person with taste says is comparable to paint thinner. And my deepest apologies for you actually thinking that THAT is good rum, for considering yourself a “rum drinker,” and for not showing the slightest sense of adventure by trying something new.
Jester the All-Knowing, Part 1
CUSTOMER: “Do you know if we can get this rum up where we live?”
Sure. Let me just tap into the psychic energy of the universe, direct my astral self to Mosquito Sweat, Ohio, and search the stock of every liquor store within 50 miles to ascertain that. After all, the fact that I live in Florida, over a thousand miles from where you live, should not limit my knowledge of the distribution potential for our 150+ rums that we carry. Let me get right on that.
(Yes, I get this question constantly. At least once a week, if not once a day.)
Jester the All-Knowing, Part 2
CUSTOMER: “Where are all the people at today?” OR “Which bars are happening today?” OR “Where are all the hot chicks at today?”
Despite the fact that I am working in THIS bar, and have been here since an hour before we opened (and an hour after I woke up), and thus have not been out and about doing recon for your social needs, wants, and desires, I should have no problem with this query. Let me just close my eyes and listen in to the Universal Buzz so I can most accurately pinpoint, from within this bar, the other bars in town that are most hopping. Let me get right on that.
(Yes, I get these questions constantly as well. At least once a week, if not once a day.)
Jester the All-Knowing, Part 3
“Am I going to like this?”
“Will that be enough food for me?”
“Will that be too much food for me?”
“Will that be too spicy for me?”
“What’s good?”
Although I have only known you 4.5 seconds, know none of your likes and dislikes, and have no idea what your particular appetite is like, I am a Bartender, and as such will be able to simply look at you and answer these questions you have concerning your personal taste and eating abilities. Let me get right on that.
(Pretty much every bartender and food server gets these questions constantly. At least once a day, if not hourly.)
Philosophical Point—Debate It If You Want To
I have noticed that, generally speaking, the customers who preface their question with the statement, “I have a stupid question,” generally speaking, are more intelligent and have more intelligent questions than the people who don’t. My thought on this is that if you are aware enough to worry that your question may be stupid, it probably isn’t. Further, I think that anyone who says, “I want to do something annoying” or “I am going to be difficult here” generally are not near as annoying or difficult as A. they think they are, and B. the really difficult and annoying people.
Discuss amongst yourselves.
The Cheap Bastard Roll Call
Every single one of these people was American, and thus familiar with the social custom of tipping.
And yet there was the three louder older people who left me $2.25 on $23.
The four ladies who left me $2.75 on $26.
The three women and one guy who left me $4 on $54.
These were all within an hour.
But I can let these people off with just a muttered curse upon their families, for maybe they miscounted, maybe there was miscommunication among the group, and maybe they were not as familiar as the vast majority of Americans are with this social custom.
But the one guy I can’t let off the hook was the jackass who came in with Bar Money. To the various concierges and other people in positions to do so who give away our coupons and get people in our bar, we kick back a certain amount of “Bar Money” that is, in essence, a gift certificate redeemable at our establishment only. Basically we’re giving them free food and drinks. And the overwhelming majority of people who use these are great. But this dude came in, bought some drinks, used Bar Money to pay for them…and then he didn’t even have the decency to pretend to forget to tip me. No, King Cheap Bastard had the gall to tell me he didn’t have any money with him, but he would be back later to get another round and tip me then. Anyone want to guess when he returned with said tip?
If you guessed “Never,” pat yourself on the back, because you are Absolutely Right.
If You’re Lucky Enough to Be Alive, You’re Lucky Enough.
My Rockin’ Manager’s best friend Happy from up north last week, without warning, had a heart attack one day, a stroke the next, was put into an induced coma, and after that the family was given a choice of her being a vegetable or them pulling the plug. They pulled the plug and let her die.
I am not here to debate the rightness or wrongness of the family’s decision, though I agree with it, as did RM. I am here to remind you to cherish your time in this life and to enjoy every day you have, as you never know when it will end. Far too often, it ends too soon.
Some might question why I would put this here in the “Sucky Customers” section. Personally, I think Happy would get a kick out of it. I have to tell you that Happy was always smiling, always enjoying her time when she was down here in Key West, and always had fun. She was an absolute blast to be around, she had a great sense of humor, and I liked her a lot.
Happy was a week older than me. She was only 39. So please, have fun. Enjoy your day, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. Make the best of bad situations, and find positive where others only find negatives. Eat. Drink. Be merry. For tomorrow, my friends, we die.
To Happy! Miss ya, girl….and the next cold one’s for you.
I'm not a big drinker but when I drink I like something nice and sweet (maybe a little tart and tang in it) with the good booze in it .Asking for some cheap or low quality rum is like asking somebody to make me a Seabreeze with Skol instead of Grey Goose. Sorry to hear about your friend.
Comment