Sunday, July 5, 2009

How I Could Just Kill a Man

Hangovers automatically knock a few points off any given day, but I wasn't prepared for how unpleasant things were going to be.

After the relief of WM being alive (we texted) I was almost alone in the bar most of the night.

First batch: The MGD drinkers. I don't know why but Miller is pretty much the trashiest beer ever. Sorry Uncle J. Every person who first thing orders MGD is either white trash or sometimes other colors of trash. Trash, though. The first couple people in the bar tonight ordered MGD. One woman tipped, the other didn't. The one who didn't tip may have been insane.

Second batch: Good people over all, but sometimes I wish I could control who pays for the drinks. On a $45 tab I was tipped $4. That is less than 10%. Sure, I wasn't the most chipper person ever, but I wasn't rude, I didn't do a poor job, I didn't flirt with her boyfriend. I guess some people just don't understand that tending bar is not a benefitted and well paying position without tips.

Third batch: A regular who sometimes always gets on my nerves a little came in with another guy who was possibly really high and definitely sort of awkward and not that bright. This time, instead of just getting on my nerves, he drove me crazy. He walked into the bar with an open beer from home, he acted like that was fine, then he was loud, obnoxious, and feisty most of the time he was there. He acted like he knew everything about everything and was mostly wrong. He was being rude to the other guy, who was sort of annoying me because I was already irritable at this point and because he didn't seem to get what I was saying repeatedly. I actually closed the bar early because I couldn't tolerate any more of that shit. Oh, and when douchebag closed out he didn't tip that well either. Usually I will deal with him because he usually tips well, being in the same general business, this time I felt like the tip wasn't worth the hours that I spent wanting to kill him or me.

I was contemplating making a shank out of straws. That bad. Mr. G and I did it once on a really slow Sunday.

Oh, and in case you were unaware, this was a Saturday. A money night for bartenders. I didn't make money. I wish I had stayed at home, though I did gain some peace of mind knowing that my friend wasn't dead in the bathroom. It was also sort of funny to see the door off the hinges.

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