Vile: that is the word my co-workers and I decided to use to describe last night’s shift. It fits in perfectly. It was VILE. All of it. I was not nice during this shift. It was probably the worst I have ever been towards customers, so this thread is more of a confession. I actually don’t know where to begin.
I’ll start with a rundown of how a typical Saturday at the pub works. At 6pm, we have a full complement of staff. The pub is busiest between 6pm and 9pm. At around 9:30 it dies down, as people move on to other places, so at 10pm two members of staff go home. Then another two at 11pm and two more at midnight. The rest of the staff stay until the end. Normally this works perfectly, but for some reason the rush did not die down and we were constantly busy, but as the shift went on we lost staff as none were willing to stay and help. It was fucking awful.
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I started my shift and I was greeted with this:
SC: Oi! You! Where’s yerrrr manager?? Where is she??
I recognised the customer. He has been banned out of the pub for years. I’ve never posted about him before, so here’s a bit of background: I don’t know why the guy was banned, as it happened before I even started working at the pub. The circumstances of him being banned are a bit legendary. Apparently Boss Lady took him out of the pub by his ear and slapped him across the face as his behaviour was so bad. For about five years he’s been trying to get the ban lifted, without success.
I went out the back. Boss Lady was on the phone.
Me: I’m sorry, but she’s taking a very important phone call at the minute. Do you want to call back in a bit when she’s free?
SC: I want to know if I’m still banned!
Me: Like I said, she’s busy. If you call back in an hour she might be free.
SC: You get her out here right now or I will fucking stab you!
Boss Lady suddenly appeared.
BL: WHAT?!?!!?
SC: Uhhh…uhhhh…
BL: Call the police customersruinmylife.
SC: So am I still banned or what?
BL: What do you think?!!?
SC: Fine! I never wanted to drink in here anyway!!
BL: Yeah, five years of constant begging and pleading to be let back in really tells me that. Get the fuck out!
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The first couple of hours were fine. It was just a typical Saturday with the typical stupid customers. However, it all started to go wrong when the kitchen co-worker stumbled out the kitchen, clutching his hand. It was bandaged up, and there was still blood seeping through.
KW: I think I need to go to the hospital…
Turned out he got a bit carried away slicing some vegetables. He cut his hand very, very badly. The only person working who had a car was the manager, so she packed him off and took him to hospital. I went and finished off any food orders that were on and then I closed the kitchen.
The customers of course were very understanding…
SC: You advertise that you are selling food! You have to sell me food!
SC: I only want dessert! How does that count?
SC: I demand to see the manager!
Me: The manager is currently at the hospital with the cook.
SC: That’s ridiculous! Couldn’t you have just put him in a taxi or something? I mean, the buses are still running for goodness sake! Why couldn’t you put him on that?
Me: I’m glad you’re not my manager!
SC: What do you mean by that?
Me: Nothing. Like I said, no manager and I have no idea when we’ll get one.
Manager returned without KW, who she had dropped off home. He’s OK but he did need stitches.
SC: Oh good. The manager is here. Can I order food then?
Me: The manager may be back but the cook is still injured…
SC: My God! He wouldn’t last ten seconds if he was a soldier! They just patch them up and send them back into the fight!
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Then it started. The pub was supposed to be getting quiet, but it didn’t. Groups of people kept coming in. The pub was filled with children. Well, not children. It was filled with people who had literally just turned 18. A lot of people got their exam results this week and were out celebrating. The problem was that these people were so young that they had absolutely no pub etiquette. It also didn’t help that they were the most spoiled, snot-nosed little brats I had ever seen. I hated them.
It was so busy. It was not normal. The rush should have been gone hours ago, but it hadn’t . Because of this we ran out of a lot of stuff, including fruit, ice and several drinks.
Manager panicked at the state of the pub. Staff were starting to finish their shifts, but there was still a line four deep at the bar. She got on the phone and called every member of staff that wasn’t working. I don’t know how she did it but she somehow blackmailed/bribed/threatened someone to come in who had literally just gotten off a plane from Greece. He walked in to begin his shift at 9pm with the words:
CW: I want to kill myself. How did I end up here?
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Young girl comes to the bar and orders the most expensive cocktail.
Me: OK, just to let you know we have run out of ice. Is that OK?
SC: Yeah, that’s fine.
I served it.
SC: What’s that??? Where’s the ice?
Me: I told you there was no ice.
SC: I’m not paying for that!
She reached to grab the drink. I got there first.
Me: What are you doing?
SC: I’m not paying for it! Hand it over!
Me: You pay for this drink, or you get out.
SC: Fine! I’ll order something else then!
Me: No. I told you there was no ice, you said fine. You pay for this or you get nothing.
SC: I don’t want that without ice!
Me: Then why did you say yes?
SC: *blank stare*
Me: So what’s it going to be?
SC: I’m not paying for it.
Me: OK then. No drink for you then.
SC: BUT IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!
Me: Happy birthday. Next please!
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SC: Gin and tonic please.
Me: OK, but just to let you know I don’t have any ice or fruit for the drink.
SC: OK, well I will keep the drink, and when you get me ice and fruit I might think about paying for it.
Me: I can’t be bothered to respond to that. Next please!
SC: What?!!?
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There are four registers on the bar. We had it divided up so we basically served a section of the bar each. However I had to keep leaving my area to go to the opposite end of the bar to get some glasses. People were leaning over the bar and screeching at me.
SC: Come down here and serve! I’ve been waiting ages!
Me: I’m at the other end of the bar. Sorry.
SC: Serve me right now!!!!
I stared at the little brat for a couple of seconds, and then I simply walked away.
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Above the noise of the screechy teens, I hear a voice.
SC: Out of the way! Coming through! MOVE!!
I looked and saw an overweight, middle aged man in a business pushing his way through the crowd. He actually trampled on several people and shoved several people flying. He looked me dead in the eye.
SC: I’M NEXT BY THE WAY!
Me: Yeah, you really aren’t.
SC: I will have-
Me: You’re not next. You’re last.
SC: No. I’M NEXT.
I walked up and down the bar and gave the staff strict instructions to ignore the bastard until he learned his lesson. Each time a member of staff walked past he yelled “HEY!” and tried to get their attention. I actually served every single customer that was stood around him and several that were behind him to teach him a lesson.
SC: YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!
Me: Learned your lesson yet?
SC: WHAT LESSON?
Me: I’ll come back to you when you have.
He went very, very quiet. I served him a few minutes later and put him out of his misery.
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I had to walk down there again. As I was grabbing some glasses, another brat leaned over.
SC: What is your cider on tap?
Me: *brand name*
SC: Two pints. RIGHT NOW.
Me: OK, for starters, you’re not next, I’m not serving down here and I don’t respond to the words RIGHT NOW.
SC: OK. I’m sorry. Please?
Me: Again, I’m not serving down here, and you’re not next.
I walked away.
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I am serving four customers at the same time. A loudmouth leans over.
SC: Hurry the fuck up! Fucking hell! I’ve been waiting ages! Fucks sake! I’m fucking next!
Me: You’re fucking last!
SC: There’s no need to swear!
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The last co-worker finished, and it left just four of us for the last two hours until the pub closed. It was constant. Normally at that time all you do is clean and serve the occasional customer. It was just as busy as it had been at the peak time. I swear that some people were waiting in line for a drink for 30 minutes. It was a nightmare. I couldn’t keep track of who was next, so I simply roared “NEXT!!” once I had finished serving. Whoever responded got served.
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A woman pushed her way up to the bar. She got to a female co-worker.
SC: Excuse me, but the mirrors in the ladies toilets have a few marks on them. I think they could use a wipe if you’re not too busy.
CW: Please tell me you are joking.
SC: Well, it doesn’t look good! They are all smudgy!
CW: Right. I’ll get right on it.
SC: Thank you!
She walked away. CW muttered “Stupid fucking bitch” under her breath. The SC returned ten minutes later.
SC: Excuse me! I have returned to the toilets and they are still a mess! When are they going to get sorted?
CW: Are you deliberately trying to make me cry at the moment??!
SC: Well it’s not my fault you’re busy!
She stormed off.
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SC: Can I order a vodka and lemonade please?
Me: Sure, but I need to let you know that we have no ice.
SC: Whatever happened to the customer is always right????
Me: I don’t understand why you’re saying that to me right now. I need a yes or no or I move on to the next customer.
SC: GOD!
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Serving a customer four drinks. He starts talking to his friend as I poured them in front of him.
SC: Look how unhappy and stressed the staff are. I bet they’re putting stuff in all the drinks to teach the customers a lesson and make themselves feel better.
Me: That’s really not true. We may be stressed but we would never stoop that low.
SC: I bet you’ve put your dick in my drink.
Me: *rolls eyes*
SC: I don’t know if I want a drink off you anymore.
Me: That’s fine. Feel welcome to rejoin the line that you’ve been waiting in for about 20 minutes.
SC: *to friend* See what I mean.
Me: Pal, if I managed to put my dick in your drink without being seen by the hundreds of eyes glaring at me at the moment, I shouldn’t be working here. I should be a wizard.
His friend saw the humour. He didn’t.
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Annoying child-like customer orders a drink.
Me: I don’t have any ice. Is that OK?
SC: Yeah sure!
I present the drinks.
SC: Oh. That doesn’t look nice. I don’t know if I want them anymore.
Me: Do you want them or not? I need an answer now because I’ve got a lot of people to serve.
SC: Oh….ummmm…I don’t know.
Me: I’ll come back to you. *removes drinks*
SC: But you didn’t tell me there was no ice!
Me: I’ve said the phrase “We have no ice” 8000 times tonight. I really think I did.
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Customer ordered a cocktail. I discover we are out of a particular spirit. I have my back to the customers, and I whisper under my breath:
“Fuck”.
SC: I heard that!!!!
I see a beady eyed old lady staring at me.
SC: DISGRACEFUL!!!!!1111!!
She stormed off.
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It’s five minutes before close. Manager has given us strict instructions not to sell anymore cocktails or bottles of wine, as she wants to start kicking the customers out as soon as the bell goes.
SC: Two bottles of white wine and two glasses!
Me: I’m afraid we close in two minutes. We are not selling anymore bottles of wine.
SC: But that’s what we want! We’ll drink it in time! Promise!
Me: You’ll drink a bottle of wine each in two minutes?
SC: Uhhh…maybe we should just get a small glass.
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Bell goes! We’re closed! Oh wait. The customers are still coming up to the bar!
SC: Come on! Serve us! You know you want to!
CW: I really, really don’t. In fact, I’d sooner poke my own eyes out with a spoon.
SC: I thought barmaids were meant to be sexy and friendly!
CW: This barmaid has post-traumatic stress. Now shoo!
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We finally get a drink after work. We hear a knock at the door.
SC: Are you still open?
Everyone: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!11111!!!
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This thread is just the highlights. I can’t remember half the SC’s. We all sat down after work, manager included and confessed our sins. That is where the thread title came from. CW said “I was fucking vile to every person that approached that bar.” Manager even admitted that she was being deliberately rude and awkward to customers in the hope that several would storm out and take some friends with them.
CW text me once she got home complaining she couldn’t sleep. She said every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was 100 pairs of eyes giving her a death glare for not serving fast enough.
I’ll start with a rundown of how a typical Saturday at the pub works. At 6pm, we have a full complement of staff. The pub is busiest between 6pm and 9pm. At around 9:30 it dies down, as people move on to other places, so at 10pm two members of staff go home. Then another two at 11pm and two more at midnight. The rest of the staff stay until the end. Normally this works perfectly, but for some reason the rush did not die down and we were constantly busy, but as the shift went on we lost staff as none were willing to stay and help. It was fucking awful.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I started my shift and I was greeted with this:
SC: Oi! You! Where’s yerrrr manager?? Where is she??
I recognised the customer. He has been banned out of the pub for years. I’ve never posted about him before, so here’s a bit of background: I don’t know why the guy was banned, as it happened before I even started working at the pub. The circumstances of him being banned are a bit legendary. Apparently Boss Lady took him out of the pub by his ear and slapped him across the face as his behaviour was so bad. For about five years he’s been trying to get the ban lifted, without success.
I went out the back. Boss Lady was on the phone.
Me: I’m sorry, but she’s taking a very important phone call at the minute. Do you want to call back in a bit when she’s free?
SC: I want to know if I’m still banned!
Me: Like I said, she’s busy. If you call back in an hour she might be free.
SC: You get her out here right now or I will fucking stab you!
Boss Lady suddenly appeared.
BL: WHAT?!?!!?
SC: Uhhh…uhhhh…
BL: Call the police customersruinmylife.
SC: So am I still banned or what?
BL: What do you think?!!?
SC: Fine! I never wanted to drink in here anyway!!
BL: Yeah, five years of constant begging and pleading to be let back in really tells me that. Get the fuck out!
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The first couple of hours were fine. It was just a typical Saturday with the typical stupid customers. However, it all started to go wrong when the kitchen co-worker stumbled out the kitchen, clutching his hand. It was bandaged up, and there was still blood seeping through.
KW: I think I need to go to the hospital…
Turned out he got a bit carried away slicing some vegetables. He cut his hand very, very badly. The only person working who had a car was the manager, so she packed him off and took him to hospital. I went and finished off any food orders that were on and then I closed the kitchen.
The customers of course were very understanding…
SC: You advertise that you are selling food! You have to sell me food!
SC: I only want dessert! How does that count?
SC: I demand to see the manager!
Me: The manager is currently at the hospital with the cook.
SC: That’s ridiculous! Couldn’t you have just put him in a taxi or something? I mean, the buses are still running for goodness sake! Why couldn’t you put him on that?
Me: I’m glad you’re not my manager!
SC: What do you mean by that?
Me: Nothing. Like I said, no manager and I have no idea when we’ll get one.
Manager returned without KW, who she had dropped off home. He’s OK but he did need stitches.
SC: Oh good. The manager is here. Can I order food then?
Me: The manager may be back but the cook is still injured…
SC: My God! He wouldn’t last ten seconds if he was a soldier! They just patch them up and send them back into the fight!
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Then it started. The pub was supposed to be getting quiet, but it didn’t. Groups of people kept coming in. The pub was filled with children. Well, not children. It was filled with people who had literally just turned 18. A lot of people got their exam results this week and were out celebrating. The problem was that these people were so young that they had absolutely no pub etiquette. It also didn’t help that they were the most spoiled, snot-nosed little brats I had ever seen. I hated them.
It was so busy. It was not normal. The rush should have been gone hours ago, but it hadn’t . Because of this we ran out of a lot of stuff, including fruit, ice and several drinks.
Manager panicked at the state of the pub. Staff were starting to finish their shifts, but there was still a line four deep at the bar. She got on the phone and called every member of staff that wasn’t working. I don’t know how she did it but she somehow blackmailed/bribed/threatened someone to come in who had literally just gotten off a plane from Greece. He walked in to begin his shift at 9pm with the words:
CW: I want to kill myself. How did I end up here?
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Young girl comes to the bar and orders the most expensive cocktail.
Me: OK, just to let you know we have run out of ice. Is that OK?
SC: Yeah, that’s fine.
I served it.
SC: What’s that??? Where’s the ice?
Me: I told you there was no ice.
SC: I’m not paying for that!
She reached to grab the drink. I got there first.
Me: What are you doing?
SC: I’m not paying for it! Hand it over!
Me: You pay for this drink, or you get out.
SC: Fine! I’ll order something else then!
Me: No. I told you there was no ice, you said fine. You pay for this or you get nothing.
SC: I don’t want that without ice!
Me: Then why did you say yes?
SC: *blank stare*
Me: So what’s it going to be?
SC: I’m not paying for it.
Me: OK then. No drink for you then.
SC: BUT IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!
Me: Happy birthday. Next please!
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SC: Gin and tonic please.
Me: OK, but just to let you know I don’t have any ice or fruit for the drink.
SC: OK, well I will keep the drink, and when you get me ice and fruit I might think about paying for it.
Me: I can’t be bothered to respond to that. Next please!
SC: What?!!?
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There are four registers on the bar. We had it divided up so we basically served a section of the bar each. However I had to keep leaving my area to go to the opposite end of the bar to get some glasses. People were leaning over the bar and screeching at me.
SC: Come down here and serve! I’ve been waiting ages!
Me: I’m at the other end of the bar. Sorry.
SC: Serve me right now!!!!
I stared at the little brat for a couple of seconds, and then I simply walked away.
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Above the noise of the screechy teens, I hear a voice.
SC: Out of the way! Coming through! MOVE!!
I looked and saw an overweight, middle aged man in a business pushing his way through the crowd. He actually trampled on several people and shoved several people flying. He looked me dead in the eye.
SC: I’M NEXT BY THE WAY!
Me: Yeah, you really aren’t.
SC: I will have-
Me: You’re not next. You’re last.
SC: No. I’M NEXT.
I walked up and down the bar and gave the staff strict instructions to ignore the bastard until he learned his lesson. Each time a member of staff walked past he yelled “HEY!” and tried to get their attention. I actually served every single customer that was stood around him and several that were behind him to teach him a lesson.
SC: YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!
Me: Learned your lesson yet?
SC: WHAT LESSON?
Me: I’ll come back to you when you have.
He went very, very quiet. I served him a few minutes later and put him out of his misery.
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I had to walk down there again. As I was grabbing some glasses, another brat leaned over.
SC: What is your cider on tap?
Me: *brand name*
SC: Two pints. RIGHT NOW.
Me: OK, for starters, you’re not next, I’m not serving down here and I don’t respond to the words RIGHT NOW.
SC: OK. I’m sorry. Please?
Me: Again, I’m not serving down here, and you’re not next.
I walked away.
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I am serving four customers at the same time. A loudmouth leans over.
SC: Hurry the fuck up! Fucking hell! I’ve been waiting ages! Fucks sake! I’m fucking next!
Me: You’re fucking last!
SC: There’s no need to swear!
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The last co-worker finished, and it left just four of us for the last two hours until the pub closed. It was constant. Normally at that time all you do is clean and serve the occasional customer. It was just as busy as it had been at the peak time. I swear that some people were waiting in line for a drink for 30 minutes. It was a nightmare. I couldn’t keep track of who was next, so I simply roared “NEXT!!” once I had finished serving. Whoever responded got served.
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A woman pushed her way up to the bar. She got to a female co-worker.
SC: Excuse me, but the mirrors in the ladies toilets have a few marks on them. I think they could use a wipe if you’re not too busy.
CW: Please tell me you are joking.
SC: Well, it doesn’t look good! They are all smudgy!
CW: Right. I’ll get right on it.
SC: Thank you!
She walked away. CW muttered “Stupid fucking bitch” under her breath. The SC returned ten minutes later.
SC: Excuse me! I have returned to the toilets and they are still a mess! When are they going to get sorted?
CW: Are you deliberately trying to make me cry at the moment??!
SC: Well it’s not my fault you’re busy!
She stormed off.
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SC: Can I order a vodka and lemonade please?
Me: Sure, but I need to let you know that we have no ice.
SC: Whatever happened to the customer is always right????
Me: I don’t understand why you’re saying that to me right now. I need a yes or no or I move on to the next customer.
SC: GOD!
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Serving a customer four drinks. He starts talking to his friend as I poured them in front of him.
SC: Look how unhappy and stressed the staff are. I bet they’re putting stuff in all the drinks to teach the customers a lesson and make themselves feel better.
Me: That’s really not true. We may be stressed but we would never stoop that low.
SC: I bet you’ve put your dick in my drink.
Me: *rolls eyes*
SC: I don’t know if I want a drink off you anymore.
Me: That’s fine. Feel welcome to rejoin the line that you’ve been waiting in for about 20 minutes.
SC: *to friend* See what I mean.
Me: Pal, if I managed to put my dick in your drink without being seen by the hundreds of eyes glaring at me at the moment, I shouldn’t be working here. I should be a wizard.
His friend saw the humour. He didn’t.
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Annoying child-like customer orders a drink.
Me: I don’t have any ice. Is that OK?
SC: Yeah sure!
I present the drinks.
SC: Oh. That doesn’t look nice. I don’t know if I want them anymore.
Me: Do you want them or not? I need an answer now because I’ve got a lot of people to serve.
SC: Oh….ummmm…I don’t know.
Me: I’ll come back to you. *removes drinks*
SC: But you didn’t tell me there was no ice!
Me: I’ve said the phrase “We have no ice” 8000 times tonight. I really think I did.
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Customer ordered a cocktail. I discover we are out of a particular spirit. I have my back to the customers, and I whisper under my breath:
“Fuck”.
SC: I heard that!!!!
I see a beady eyed old lady staring at me.
SC: DISGRACEFUL!!!!!1111!!
She stormed off.
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It’s five minutes before close. Manager has given us strict instructions not to sell anymore cocktails or bottles of wine, as she wants to start kicking the customers out as soon as the bell goes.
SC: Two bottles of white wine and two glasses!
Me: I’m afraid we close in two minutes. We are not selling anymore bottles of wine.
SC: But that’s what we want! We’ll drink it in time! Promise!
Me: You’ll drink a bottle of wine each in two minutes?
SC: Uhhh…maybe we should just get a small glass.
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Bell goes! We’re closed! Oh wait. The customers are still coming up to the bar!
SC: Come on! Serve us! You know you want to!
CW: I really, really don’t. In fact, I’d sooner poke my own eyes out with a spoon.
SC: I thought barmaids were meant to be sexy and friendly!
CW: This barmaid has post-traumatic stress. Now shoo!
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We finally get a drink after work. We hear a knock at the door.
SC: Are you still open?
Everyone: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!11111!!!
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This thread is just the highlights. I can’t remember half the SC’s. We all sat down after work, manager included and confessed our sins. That is where the thread title came from. CW said “I was fucking vile to every person that approached that bar.” Manager even admitted that she was being deliberately rude and awkward to customers in the hope that several would storm out and take some friends with them.
CW text me once she got home complaining she couldn’t sleep. She said every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was 100 pairs of eyes giving her a death glare for not serving fast enough.
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