Showing posts with label drunk people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drunk people. Show all posts

Saturday, July 11, 2009

...Fa'realz? Friday

Let me begin by saying that working the crazy hours I work will leave you without a sense of date or time.  And judging by how empty the bar was last night, I don't think anyone else knew it was Friday either.  We even got a new bartender (I like her, she's cool) to bring the total up to five for the night.  Turns out that was unnecessary.  Fa'realz?

...A Wig?  Fa'realz?

Yeah.  I had to go out and buy a lace front wig because I absolutely refuse to put heat on my hair everyday.  Do you know what kind of damage that does?  My hair is my most prized possession (okay, not really... but it's close), it's the essence of my being; I can't let that kind of harm come to it.  I like the wig; it takes all the effort out of doing my hair and protects it from damage, all in one.  I might just wear it everywhere.  ...Sike.  

Fa'Realz, Yo... Everything Is Not About the Hustle!

Bartenders are hustlers; they're entrepreneurial.  However, your customers should not get a sense of this, because then they won't come back.  I understand trying to get your money, but people don't like to feel worked over and taken advantage of.  I understand trying to sell $250 worth of liquor so you can get your 10% commission, but respect your other bartenders' hustle while you do it.  The bartender who's been there the longest (4 weeks), let's call her Mexico, because that's where her family's from, seems to think she works the bar alone.  When one bartender is talking to a customer, you do not go up to the customer and ask them if they want something else to drink.  (Especially when it's the new bartender and she hasn't had that many sales yet).  I mean, look... if you lose a sale today, you'll get one tomorrow.  My boss at the strip club had to tell the cocktail waitresses: respect each other's hustle-- you might have to work the dead section tonight, but the next night will make up for it.  Don't be ruled by the hustle.

You Have NO Authority Here... Fa'Realz.

Mexico was being generally annoying otherwise, too, though.  If you're standing "in her way" whatever she deems that to be, she'll shoo you over with her hands (something I HATE).  And she spent the whole night giving directions to the rest of us for no reason.  New Girl and I were cracking up about it this morning as we rode the train home.  (Yes!  I have someone to ride the train with!).  Some people just like to give directions, down to the way you put the tip money in the tip jar.  It really pisses me off (I have a problem with anyone putting me in a position of inferiority, actually), and I'll get curt or go silent with anyone who does it.  So... shut up, please?  Tha-anks!

Fa'Reals?  You Gonna Play Good Cop/Bad Cop Like That?

A bunch of off-duty cops came in today.  And being cops, you would think they would (a) know the rules, and (b) obey them.  So sir, you should know better than to ask to, "take all the girls out to breakfast."  Nope.  Not gonna happen.

And then this guy tried to play Good Cop/Bad Cop with me.  His friend was a little mouthy, but he was funny (he gave his name as Eddie Spaghetti, lol), so it was okay.  Dude who tried to play Good Cop turned to me and was like, "I think my friend wants more than...  I think he wants more than... just... look out for yourself, okay?"  And then he kissed my hand.

I think you want "more than".  I'm not stupid; don't do me.

I don't know why he tried to pull that, considering he had just told me earlier, "you're a pretty girl, but I can see you've got a tough mind; keep that mentality wherever you go."  It was in the context of talking about traveling abroad.  I really, really want to study abroad in Italy and France, and he told me that Milan was The GHETTO and Paris sucked.  (My father has told me before that Paris is the pits, as well).  

"You know, you think because you're from New York that you know what's what; that you're hard, that you've seen everything... but let me tell you: you aint seen nothin.  Man, Europe is bad, man.  And Milan?  Milan is the worst ghetto ever.  Paris... it sucks... I been everywhere: Italy... Rome, Florence, Venice, Milan... been to Russia, Morocco, south of France...  There aint nowhere like America."  

Duly noted.  I still want to take that two week drawing course in France though.

Fa'Realz?  You Gon' Go Off Like That?  I Aint the One.

Like I said: I have a problem with anyone putting me in a position of inferiority.  And definitely don't curse at me.  My father wouldn't talk to me that way (okay... well... depends on what I did to make him angry).  I feel like the owner of the bar was just upset because it was dead on a Friday and he was losing out on money, but don't take that shit out on us.  And he had a problem with one of the bartenders who let a customer touch her.  So... why did he yell at all of us about it?  That right there is why he can't keep a consistent staff.  That right there is why I'm working for 3 weeks: long enough to pay my rent and expenses and that's it.

And then, he got attitudinal with the New Girl for being nice to a customer.  The man had spent two rounds of $70 with her on drinks; he was drunk.  She offered him a glass of water from the tap.

Boss Man came over to her and said, "what did you just do?"

"Well, he was drunk, so I gave him a glass of water."

"No.  He gets a bottle of water: $6.  Do me a favor and don't give away anything for free in here."

...The man has already given you $140.  Are you really that pressed over $6 that you'll charge a man who's drunk off his ass for it instead of just looking out for him?  Fa'realz?  Not cool.

End of the Night Foolishness:

So, the New Girl and I are riding the shuttle bus to the train and a drunk old man get on and starts dancing on the bus, knocking the poles with his cane.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to sit down so I can move the bus," the bus driver said.

"Okay," Drunk Old Man nods and then goes up front to pay with his Metro Card.

"No, you don't have to pay, just sit down, please."

"No!  I have to pay!"

The bus driver sighs and allows the man to pay.  (He really didn't have to, it was a shuttle bus).  It's in your best interest not to argue with drunk people though.

"Alright, now, can you sit down?"

"Okay, I love you."  He sits down.  "I love you."

(I think it's funny how drunk people seem to think saying "I love you" makes all of your foolishness better.).

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

...So Maybe I SHOULD Serve Water After 9.

Tonight was my first experience with customers that walked into the club already twisted. They were also really WEIRD and CRAZY, so it was hard to tell that they were already drunk on top of that.

So, a man and a woman walk up to the bar. (Yep, this is the beginning of a great joke). The man is swaying back and forth a bit, dressed like a 'hood Steve Urkel (+ a chronic blink, - the glasses). The woman is waddling like a pregnant woman, dressed like a bum (+ an extra couple of bumps, - a baby). They start throwing money around, all up in my face, speaking rapid-fire.

"Let me get five 1's. Let me get a Hennessey. Let me get twenty 1's. Here's your tip, 'cause you're so sweet. Let me get another Hennessey. Can I get ten more 1's? Wait, I gotta pay for my drink. Oh, I paid? Where's my drink? And a Heineken!"

At first I thought they were trying to hustle us (the man was throwing money at me; the woman was throwing money at my manager), but then once I saw him literally TOSS quarters up in the air, aiming (and failing HORRIBLY) for my tip jar, I realized... this man is either crazy or drunk off his ass.

As I watched them stuff dollar bills down the shirt of one of the waitresses (whose face bore an expression of barely tolerant annoyance mixed with acute wariness) and one of the strippers who had leaned against the bar to change out some of her singles, I came to a conclusion: drunk off the ass. And damnit, they just wouldn't go away! I appreciated that they kept throwing money in our tip jars with wild abandon, but seriously, they were making me nervous. Drunk people are unpredictable.

"I'ma need them to get away from the bar," I said to my manager as I turned around to fix someone else's drink.

She shook her head. "No; I'ma need her to get her eyes fixed. Did you see that shit?"

"Nah."

"Her eyes are cocked all the way to the side of her head. I don't like that. I can't tell where you're looking or who you're talking to. Uh-uh."

The pair of them wandered off with their drinks in the direction of the stage.

The same waitresses who had been so randomly, yet generously, tipped returned to the bar, shaking her head. "That woman's eyes are cocked like a pistol!"

I watched them spilling drinks and stumbling over themselves. Yeah, but that's not what's wrong with her, I thought to myself.

"It's 'cause they're inbred," my manager nodded her head sagely. "Their mama and daddy are cousins."

They kept coming back to the bar at random over the course of the night to chit chat about how upsetting the price of beer was (yeah, I think it's over-priced too, but you're at a strip club... whadaya want me to do? I'm sorry!), and said something about how...

"I can't get nothin' right now; we gotta wait 'til 2 am 'cause we reached the $500 limit on the ATM..."

(um, the club closes at 2 am...)

"...Hey, can I get twenty more 1's?"

(so... you can't buy a drink with the $20 in your hand? Not that I think you need one; I'm just questioning your logic.)

The last time she finally came up and asked me for a Malibu + pineapple I just had to tell her. "I'm not allowed to mix any drinks until my manager comes back."

I gotta come up with another line to spit to persistent, drunk-assed people, because RIGHT then, my manager came back.

P.S.

I enjoyed... having one of my customers pop his pecs for me. I told him he should get on stage. He said, "I've been trying to, but they aint ready."

I listened... when people gave me good advice (1) take care of your feet, (2) don't cut your hair, and (3) live an easy life- that's how you stay young-looking.

I like... working more than I like school. Class is just so boring and pointless. I'd rather be behind the bar. I'd rather be at the shop designing dresses. Ugh. GIVE ME FREE!

Deuces :-*