Unlike Gravekeeper, it takes me a while to come up with a bunch of stories of horrible customers to share with you. That being said, here is a bunch of stories of horrible customers from the last couple of months to share with you.
It's An Outrage!
As any bar does, we have some regulars. Some of them are sports regulars....they come in for particular sporting events. Most of them are cool. Some...are not. Baby Jesus is an example of the latter. We call him Baby Jesus because, despite being in his mid twenties, he looks about 14. Often we will have other customers call us over and point out to us that "that teenager over there is drinking a beer." We assure the concerned customer that BJ is of age (as we've all carded him at least three times each), and despite their doubt, we go back to work.
Well, this year's NHL Winter Classic drew a lot of people in the day after New Year's Day, including Baby Jesus, who came in with 3 of his friends. I started 4 separate tabs for them, since it was clear they'd be paying separately. And they ordered food and beers, and were constantly ordering shots. I determined whose tab to put what shots on in the easiest manner...whoever ordered that round of shots got that round put on their tab. Makes sense, right? I even, since he is a regular, bought BJ a beer. I thought that was rather nice of me.
Well, after several hours of this, when the game ended, the 4 guys (along with many others in the bar) wanted their tabs. And BJ's 3 friends paid their tabs, but of course BJ, notorious for being a belligerent asshole when he gets drunk, was a belligerent asshole, asking why there were so many shots on his bill. And I politely explained to him that, whenever he ordered shots, I put them on his tab, and when Bill, Bob, or Joe ordered the shots, I had put them on their tabs, etc. And these were $8 shots. So needless to say, these tabs were not small. So BJ was having a fit, pissed at me that I didn't buy any of the shots for them.
I'd like to repeat...these were $8 shots. We have a certain amount we can put on a comp tab, yes, but these guys were hardly my only customers that I wanted to do something nice for, and these WERE expensive shots. So, what, I'm supposed to fill my entire comp tab with your shots because you're a cheap asshole? Clearly he had forgotten the fact that I had bought him a beer, AND that he was getting the local discount. He went out of his way to tell me, "Jester, you don't ALWAYS have to be by the book." Translation: he wanted me to give them shots without ringing them up. Yeah, thank you, no. I like my job, and other bartenders who have done that have been FIRED. Because, you know, it's called STEALILNG.
So BJ decided to make his point with his tip....on his $110 bill, he made a point of only leaving us (there were two bartenders to deal with the people) a whopping $10. And to add insult to injury, he made a point of filling out his BUDDY'S credit card slip, leaving us $2 on $90. For a grand total of $12 on $200. Because, you know, we had the audacity to not buy half the shots he ordered. What an outrage!
EPILOGUE: A couple weeks after that, BJ was in with some friends and was talking to some girls. I was just getting off work, and was divying up the tips at a point of the bar right near BJ and the girls. By his prompting, one of the girls joking reached over as if to take some of the money. I jokingly pretended to smash her hand with my fist, stopping just sort of actually doing so. "Sorry, thought that was BJ." To which he turned to her and said, "See? I told you he was mad at me." To which I said, sickeningly sweet, "Mad? Why would I be mad at you BJ?" Just because, you know, you basically STOLE MONEY from me and my coworker and were a PETULANT ASSHOLE. Because, you know, we were doing OUR JOB. A little bit later, BJ came up to me to "apologize" for that night, saying he knew he was "kind of an ass." I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Dude, you weren't KIND of an ass. You were COMPLETELY an ass." His apology rang hollow, and I noticed he didn't bother trying to, oh, I dunno, throw any cash our way. Actions speak louder than words, and his actions sucked.
For SOME REASON, he really hasn't been coming around as much as he used to. Oh well. Seriously, if you don't like the way a bartender does their job, don't sit at their bar. No one is making you. But honestly, to be an ass for someone doing their job? Fuck you. Go die in a fire.
This Is Not About Different Customs...You're Just Cheap!
One day, these four Italians (from Italy, not Italian Americans) come in to my bar. They ask for suggestions of a good rum to sip on, I suggest one, they love it. They were, however, shocked and appalled that I dare to ask for their ID. Different country, different customs, I get that, but I still have to do my job. All of this is standard. What followed....was not.
They finish their rum and ask for the bill, which I give to them. It was $28. Now I just KNOW I am not getting a tip from them, and I'm fine with that. I'm used to that. Different customs, blah blah blah. But when the guy looked at me and asked, "Can I just give you $27?" I just stared. Was he broke? Did he not have enough to cover the tab? Nope. He just didn't want to break another ten.
I don't have to make this shit up, people. I just looked at him and said, "Sir, the bill is $28." So he paid me $30, I gave him his $2 change, and naturally, no tip was left. But seriously? Even in Europe, where tipping is not the custom, I DO believe it IS the custom to pay the amount of the bill. "Oh, the pasta is $20, but I think I'll just pay them $18. That should be fair, right?" "The sticker says this Fiat is $10,000, but I should be fine only paying them $8,000." Oh, wait....that isn't how it works, is it? Idiot.
Speaking of Cheap
So I was sitting enjoying a beer at my new favorite bar, which is a combination bar/liquor store. These two American tourists come in, select a couple bottles of wine, and bring them up to be rung up. When told the price, they say, "Oh, can we get some kind of discount?" For what...I don't know. The bartender (who happened to be the owner as well) told them that that was the price. "Oh, well it's much cheaper back home." Well, then maybe you should have brought some with you from back home, don't ya think? Being far nicer than I would have, the owner actually gave them a small break on the price. And then these same people had the nerve to ask, "Can you throw in a free corkscrew with that?" She just looked at them. I was flabbergasted, and also just stared at them. Naturally, they had no problem with their blatant cheapness. (She did not throw in the corkscrew, by the way.)
Trouble in Paradise
Yes, Key West is a tropical island, and for the most part a safe place. For the most part.
A couple of Mondays ago, rather than ride by bike to work, I was so tired that I drove my truck. Naturally, I could not find a parking spot anywhere near my bar, so ended up having to walk quite a ways. As I walked down one of the major streets on my way to work, a bum, who was sitting on the sidewalk up against a building, asked, "Hey buddy, can you spare me some change?" To which I politely said, "Sorry, man...I'm tapped." And then things got weird.
BUM (threateningly): "How about I just take your backpack?" My backpack that day happened to have my laptop in it...not that he would know that, but still.
ME: "How about you piss off?"
BUM (getting to his feet): "How about I kick your fucking ass?" And the fucker starts to advance on me.
So here I am, simply trying to go to work, and realizing that if I get in a tussle with this guy, no good can come of it, certainly not to my pretty much brand new laptop. So here I am, dancing down Simonton Street with this bum threatening to fuck me up. Great. Just the way I wanted to start my work week.
So this goes on for about a block and a half, the bum still coming at me, me still backing off, wanting no part of the crazy written all over his face, and certainly not wanting any harm to come to my laptop. I considered pulling out the knife that I had just bought the night before, but realized that might just make things worse. Finally, for whatever reason, the dipshit breaks off, and goes away, after I had crossed the street to get away from him. I really thought I was going to have throw down with this joker, and frankly, I wanted no part of it. All I was trying to do was to go to work because, you know, I actually have a job, and don't have to ask strangers for money or threaten them on the street.
Told my head chef about this lunacy, and he insisted I call the cops. I did, and a cop (who looked about 12) came to take my report. At one point he asked me, "If we find this guy, do you want to press charges?" To which I responded, "Absofuckinglutely. Attempted robbery? Attempted assault? You better believe I want to press charges."
Needless to say, I haven't heard a word from the local constabularies. Not that I expected to. But I figured if this jackhole tries this shit again with some tourists or some other local, at least there would be a paper trail that shows he is not new to such things.
After the fact, my friend Photo Guy said that I should have pulled my phone out and start dialing the police. Apparently, he's been in similar situations before, and used that tactic. I asked him how it worked. "Half the time they go away, half the time it escalates things." In other words, it doesn't necessarily work as well as he was advocating.
Rum Usually Causes Confusion Only If You Drink It!
So the Boss Man wants to increase our stock of rum, and was taking suggestions from me. One rum I suggested is the fantastic but somewhat hard to get Appleton Estates 30 year. I asked our local Appleton rep about it, and she texted me back that it would be $2,000 for a bottle.
Yes, your reaction just now was my reaction when I read that text. 2 grand for a bottle? Oh, hell no! Heck, I had seen it for $95 a shot in West Palm, and I couldn't figure out how that bar was making money on it if it cost them that much. Hell, I had seen it for sale in a retail liquor store for only $450 a bottle. What gave?
Well, a few weeks later, we figured out the confusion. Somehow, she thought I had been asking about Appleton Estate FIFTY year, which I didn't even know existed. We still can't get the 30 year, but that is only because they have none in stock...if/when they get it, it would only be about $370 a bottle for us, which is far more palatable a cost to my GM than, say, two grand.
Dumbest Question of 2012....so far.
"Can I get a virgin Shirley Temple?"
Yeah. I just looked at the woman.
What happened was she had asked what was in a Shirley Temple. Seemed odd to me, as she was American, and I thought it was pretty much common knowledge....and she was in her 40s or 50s, so wasn't exactly new to this world. But I told her that it contained Sprite and grenadine. Which is when she asked the really stupid question.
ME: "But ma'am...a Shirley Temple already IS a virgin drink!"
HER: "Isn't there alcohol in grenadine?"
ME: "Um....no....it's basically cherry juice."
Yes, I know, I know....it's really pomegranate juice. But clearly this woman wasn't very bright, and I was not going to worry such minor details with her when she already thought that grenadine was some kind of alcoholic spirit!
The good news, lady, is that there are still 10 months left in the year for someone to ask a dumber question.
Great Comeback, If I Do Say So Myself
I guess this guy had been asking this question to a lot of guys, and had just gotten a lot of "Say what?" or "Huh?" responses, so he wasn't quite ready for my quick wittedness. To my credit, I had not heard him ask anyone this until he asked me.
Sitting at a bar with my friend last night, the guy a few stools over turns to me and out of the blue asks, "Does your pussy hurt?"
Without missing a beat, I responded, "Only after I fuck her."
HIM:
MY FRIEND:
Clearly It Wasn't His Mensa Card
I've had a lot of ID stories in the past, but this...this was a new one, the likes of which I, with 25 years of food service industry experience under my belt, had never seen.
A bu'nch of people come into my bar and order some drinks to go. One of them says he will pay for it, and hands me a credit card. All of this is normal...until I notice on the back of the credit card, in big block letters, "SEE ID." So, naturally, I ask him for ID, because I am one of those crazy people that follows instructions. So he hands me his ID.
The name on the credit card was Randy Ratface. The name on the ID was Jason Jackass. (Yes, I have changed the names for my own amusement. But you get the idea.)
ME: "Um, sir? I can't take this credit card, as the name on the card and the name on your ID don't match."
HIM: "Oh, that's my stage name for blah blah blah."
ME: "That well may be, sir, but since it DOES say on the back of the card to ask for ID, I DO need the names to actually match."
So he hands me another credit card that has the name Jason Jackass on it. So clearly he wants me to run that card, right? Of course not. When I go to run it, he says, "No, I want it on the Randy Ratface card."
I politely (and slowly) explain to him that, since HIS credit card says on the back that I MUST ask for ID, the ID kind of has to have the same name on it as the credit card. Reluctantly, he allows me to run the Jason Jackass credit card.
Now, I don't know if you can get a credit card for your stage name. I suppose if it's a business, it's possible. But let's suppose for the moment that you can actually do so. If your ID does not have your stage name, why in the flying hell would you write on your stage name credit card "SEE ID" when you don't have an ID with that name on it?"
And on that note, I really need a beer!
It's An Outrage!
As any bar does, we have some regulars. Some of them are sports regulars....they come in for particular sporting events. Most of them are cool. Some...are not. Baby Jesus is an example of the latter. We call him Baby Jesus because, despite being in his mid twenties, he looks about 14. Often we will have other customers call us over and point out to us that "that teenager over there is drinking a beer." We assure the concerned customer that BJ is of age (as we've all carded him at least three times each), and despite their doubt, we go back to work.
Well, this year's NHL Winter Classic drew a lot of people in the day after New Year's Day, including Baby Jesus, who came in with 3 of his friends. I started 4 separate tabs for them, since it was clear they'd be paying separately. And they ordered food and beers, and were constantly ordering shots. I determined whose tab to put what shots on in the easiest manner...whoever ordered that round of shots got that round put on their tab. Makes sense, right? I even, since he is a regular, bought BJ a beer. I thought that was rather nice of me.
Well, after several hours of this, when the game ended, the 4 guys (along with many others in the bar) wanted their tabs. And BJ's 3 friends paid their tabs, but of course BJ, notorious for being a belligerent asshole when he gets drunk, was a belligerent asshole, asking why there were so many shots on his bill. And I politely explained to him that, whenever he ordered shots, I put them on his tab, and when Bill, Bob, or Joe ordered the shots, I had put them on their tabs, etc. And these were $8 shots. So needless to say, these tabs were not small. So BJ was having a fit, pissed at me that I didn't buy any of the shots for them.
I'd like to repeat...these were $8 shots. We have a certain amount we can put on a comp tab, yes, but these guys were hardly my only customers that I wanted to do something nice for, and these WERE expensive shots. So, what, I'm supposed to fill my entire comp tab with your shots because you're a cheap asshole? Clearly he had forgotten the fact that I had bought him a beer, AND that he was getting the local discount. He went out of his way to tell me, "Jester, you don't ALWAYS have to be by the book." Translation: he wanted me to give them shots without ringing them up. Yeah, thank you, no. I like my job, and other bartenders who have done that have been FIRED. Because, you know, it's called STEALILNG.
So BJ decided to make his point with his tip....on his $110 bill, he made a point of only leaving us (there were two bartenders to deal with the people) a whopping $10. And to add insult to injury, he made a point of filling out his BUDDY'S credit card slip, leaving us $2 on $90. For a grand total of $12 on $200. Because, you know, we had the audacity to not buy half the shots he ordered. What an outrage!
EPILOGUE: A couple weeks after that, BJ was in with some friends and was talking to some girls. I was just getting off work, and was divying up the tips at a point of the bar right near BJ and the girls. By his prompting, one of the girls joking reached over as if to take some of the money. I jokingly pretended to smash her hand with my fist, stopping just sort of actually doing so. "Sorry, thought that was BJ." To which he turned to her and said, "See? I told you he was mad at me." To which I said, sickeningly sweet, "Mad? Why would I be mad at you BJ?" Just because, you know, you basically STOLE MONEY from me and my coworker and were a PETULANT ASSHOLE. Because, you know, we were doing OUR JOB. A little bit later, BJ came up to me to "apologize" for that night, saying he knew he was "kind of an ass." I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Dude, you weren't KIND of an ass. You were COMPLETELY an ass." His apology rang hollow, and I noticed he didn't bother trying to, oh, I dunno, throw any cash our way. Actions speak louder than words, and his actions sucked.
For SOME REASON, he really hasn't been coming around as much as he used to. Oh well. Seriously, if you don't like the way a bartender does their job, don't sit at their bar. No one is making you. But honestly, to be an ass for someone doing their job? Fuck you. Go die in a fire.
This Is Not About Different Customs...You're Just Cheap!
One day, these four Italians (from Italy, not Italian Americans) come in to my bar. They ask for suggestions of a good rum to sip on, I suggest one, they love it. They were, however, shocked and appalled that I dare to ask for their ID. Different country, different customs, I get that, but I still have to do my job. All of this is standard. What followed....was not.
They finish their rum and ask for the bill, which I give to them. It was $28. Now I just KNOW I am not getting a tip from them, and I'm fine with that. I'm used to that. Different customs, blah blah blah. But when the guy looked at me and asked, "Can I just give you $27?" I just stared. Was he broke? Did he not have enough to cover the tab? Nope. He just didn't want to break another ten.
I don't have to make this shit up, people. I just looked at him and said, "Sir, the bill is $28." So he paid me $30, I gave him his $2 change, and naturally, no tip was left. But seriously? Even in Europe, where tipping is not the custom, I DO believe it IS the custom to pay the amount of the bill. "Oh, the pasta is $20, but I think I'll just pay them $18. That should be fair, right?" "The sticker says this Fiat is $10,000, but I should be fine only paying them $8,000." Oh, wait....that isn't how it works, is it? Idiot.
Speaking of Cheap
So I was sitting enjoying a beer at my new favorite bar, which is a combination bar/liquor store. These two American tourists come in, select a couple bottles of wine, and bring them up to be rung up. When told the price, they say, "Oh, can we get some kind of discount?" For what...I don't know. The bartender (who happened to be the owner as well) told them that that was the price. "Oh, well it's much cheaper back home." Well, then maybe you should have brought some with you from back home, don't ya think? Being far nicer than I would have, the owner actually gave them a small break on the price. And then these same people had the nerve to ask, "Can you throw in a free corkscrew with that?" She just looked at them. I was flabbergasted, and also just stared at them. Naturally, they had no problem with their blatant cheapness. (She did not throw in the corkscrew, by the way.)
Trouble in Paradise
Yes, Key West is a tropical island, and for the most part a safe place. For the most part.
A couple of Mondays ago, rather than ride by bike to work, I was so tired that I drove my truck. Naturally, I could not find a parking spot anywhere near my bar, so ended up having to walk quite a ways. As I walked down one of the major streets on my way to work, a bum, who was sitting on the sidewalk up against a building, asked, "Hey buddy, can you spare me some change?" To which I politely said, "Sorry, man...I'm tapped." And then things got weird.
BUM (threateningly): "How about I just take your backpack?" My backpack that day happened to have my laptop in it...not that he would know that, but still.
ME: "How about you piss off?"
BUM (getting to his feet): "How about I kick your fucking ass?" And the fucker starts to advance on me.
So here I am, simply trying to go to work, and realizing that if I get in a tussle with this guy, no good can come of it, certainly not to my pretty much brand new laptop. So here I am, dancing down Simonton Street with this bum threatening to fuck me up. Great. Just the way I wanted to start my work week.
So this goes on for about a block and a half, the bum still coming at me, me still backing off, wanting no part of the crazy written all over his face, and certainly not wanting any harm to come to my laptop. I considered pulling out the knife that I had just bought the night before, but realized that might just make things worse. Finally, for whatever reason, the dipshit breaks off, and goes away, after I had crossed the street to get away from him. I really thought I was going to have throw down with this joker, and frankly, I wanted no part of it. All I was trying to do was to go to work because, you know, I actually have a job, and don't have to ask strangers for money or threaten them on the street.
Told my head chef about this lunacy, and he insisted I call the cops. I did, and a cop (who looked about 12) came to take my report. At one point he asked me, "If we find this guy, do you want to press charges?" To which I responded, "Absofuckinglutely. Attempted robbery? Attempted assault? You better believe I want to press charges."
Needless to say, I haven't heard a word from the local constabularies. Not that I expected to. But I figured if this jackhole tries this shit again with some tourists or some other local, at least there would be a paper trail that shows he is not new to such things.
After the fact, my friend Photo Guy said that I should have pulled my phone out and start dialing the police. Apparently, he's been in similar situations before, and used that tactic. I asked him how it worked. "Half the time they go away, half the time it escalates things." In other words, it doesn't necessarily work as well as he was advocating.
Rum Usually Causes Confusion Only If You Drink It!
So the Boss Man wants to increase our stock of rum, and was taking suggestions from me. One rum I suggested is the fantastic but somewhat hard to get Appleton Estates 30 year. I asked our local Appleton rep about it, and she texted me back that it would be $2,000 for a bottle.
Yes, your reaction just now was my reaction when I read that text. 2 grand for a bottle? Oh, hell no! Heck, I had seen it for $95 a shot in West Palm, and I couldn't figure out how that bar was making money on it if it cost them that much. Hell, I had seen it for sale in a retail liquor store for only $450 a bottle. What gave?
Well, a few weeks later, we figured out the confusion. Somehow, she thought I had been asking about Appleton Estate FIFTY year, which I didn't even know existed. We still can't get the 30 year, but that is only because they have none in stock...if/when they get it, it would only be about $370 a bottle for us, which is far more palatable a cost to my GM than, say, two grand.
Dumbest Question of 2012....so far.
"Can I get a virgin Shirley Temple?"
Yeah. I just looked at the woman.
What happened was she had asked what was in a Shirley Temple. Seemed odd to me, as she was American, and I thought it was pretty much common knowledge....and she was in her 40s or 50s, so wasn't exactly new to this world. But I told her that it contained Sprite and grenadine. Which is when she asked the really stupid question.
ME: "But ma'am...a Shirley Temple already IS a virgin drink!"
HER: "Isn't there alcohol in grenadine?"
ME: "Um....no....it's basically cherry juice."
Yes, I know, I know....it's really pomegranate juice. But clearly this woman wasn't very bright, and I was not going to worry such minor details with her when she already thought that grenadine was some kind of alcoholic spirit!
The good news, lady, is that there are still 10 months left in the year for someone to ask a dumber question.
Great Comeback, If I Do Say So Myself
I guess this guy had been asking this question to a lot of guys, and had just gotten a lot of "Say what?" or "Huh?" responses, so he wasn't quite ready for my quick wittedness. To my credit, I had not heard him ask anyone this until he asked me.
Sitting at a bar with my friend last night, the guy a few stools over turns to me and out of the blue asks, "Does your pussy hurt?"
Without missing a beat, I responded, "Only after I fuck her."
HIM:
MY FRIEND:
Clearly It Wasn't His Mensa Card
I've had a lot of ID stories in the past, but this...this was a new one, the likes of which I, with 25 years of food service industry experience under my belt, had never seen.
A bu'nch of people come into my bar and order some drinks to go. One of them says he will pay for it, and hands me a credit card. All of this is normal...until I notice on the back of the credit card, in big block letters, "SEE ID." So, naturally, I ask him for ID, because I am one of those crazy people that follows instructions. So he hands me his ID.
The name on the credit card was Randy Ratface. The name on the ID was Jason Jackass. (Yes, I have changed the names for my own amusement. But you get the idea.)
ME: "Um, sir? I can't take this credit card, as the name on the card and the name on your ID don't match."
HIM: "Oh, that's my stage name for blah blah blah."
ME: "That well may be, sir, but since it DOES say on the back of the card to ask for ID, I DO need the names to actually match."
So he hands me another credit card that has the name Jason Jackass on it. So clearly he wants me to run that card, right? Of course not. When I go to run it, he says, "No, I want it on the Randy Ratface card."
I politely (and slowly) explain to him that, since HIS credit card says on the back that I MUST ask for ID, the ID kind of has to have the same name on it as the credit card. Reluctantly, he allows me to run the Jason Jackass credit card.
Now, I don't know if you can get a credit card for your stage name. I suppose if it's a business, it's possible. But let's suppose for the moment that you can actually do so. If your ID does not have your stage name, why in the flying hell would you write on your stage name credit card "SEE ID" when you don't have an ID with that name on it?"
And on that note, I really need a beer!
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