16 April 2012

Dear Random Drunk Broken Girls: More Bartending Rants

Well I can't call out all the dick headed behavior of past male bar patrons without saying a little something about the ladies. I have a lot of fun at my job, and I do not want to seem like I hate women. The vast majority are fantastic and a lot of them tip better than the guys do. It's always the bad examples that stick out in my head though.

As I said in the last entry? 
If you can identify with any of these examples? 
You're a dumbass. 
Stop it.

Point One:
 I do not want anything to do with your husband/boyfriend/lover/guy you picked up at the last bar or what ever the fuck you want to call him. I go out of my way to take your order first, serve you your drink first and make more eye contact with you so that I don't seem rude. I make a conscious effort to not be over friendly or come across as flirting with the guy you are with. I am not going to be outright fucking rude to the poor bastard just to make you feel better.

If he comes into the bar on a regular basis and I know him and am friendly with him when he comes in alone, I am not going to be a dick to him because you are there with him. Giving me dirty looks, rolling your eyes and just being a fucking bitch in general is not going to change my demeanor. Plus? I suggest you develop some self-esteem or start drinking at a gay bar or something. Feel free to piss on the guy's leg if you really want to mark your territory, just wait until after he pays for the beer.

Point Two:
Don't tell me what a slut or a bitch another girl in the bar is; it only makes me think less of you.
I do not judge people as a rule.
 I don't care how many men I see you come in with or go out with or make out with in the corner. 
I can not tell you how much of a fuck I do not give if you are blowing or banging anyone or everyone in the parking lot. 
Who and what you do is your own damn business and I don't really care much one way or another...
but don't fuck in the bathroom .
 Someone has to clean it at the end of the night.
Go the fuck home.

While I am on that subject... what the Hell do girls do in the bathroom? It is always ten times nastier than the men's room.

Point Three:
I want to kill you every single time I have to pick it out.

Point Four:
You're hot. 
Or you think you're hot. 
It doesn't even matter. 
You come in with $100 highlights and $60 fake nails and stand around waiting for someone to buy you a drink. Then you bitch because you just can't seem to find a "good man".
Are you fucking kidding?
Stop it. 
Buy your own beer.
You are a horrible representation of women. Of humanity, really.

Point Five:
I'm not fucking stupid. I know that YOU know exactly what you are doing when you're doing it. Don't act innocent and scared when your ex-boyfriend beats the shit out of your current date, or the other way around.
 You did it. 
We both know it. 
Sell that bullshit to someone else.

Similarly, you aren't that god damn precious, Princess. 
Some poor bastard stands in the corner looking all nervous and smiling whenever you so much as look in his direction. You whisper to me that he is stalking you and then take the shots he wants to buy for you. 
Games piss me off. 
Using other people pisses me off and I hope you end up living in a trailer with eight kids, four dogs and a useless fucking  husband.

Unless he really is a stalker...in which case I will be happy to dial 911 for you. 
Or ball bat the guy.

Point Six:
Fucking stop it.
If you want to sit next to the guy and drink and flirt? Don't be surprised when he makes a pass at you. I saw it coming hours ago and so did you. 

If he grabs your ass? 
Smack the shit out of him. 
If he tries to kiss you? 
Tell him no and walk the fuck away.
Do not begin yelling and motherfucking the guy like he just tried to chloroform you and drag you out to the parking lot.
Do not attempt to entice a fucking riot in the bar. 
 I am going to be on his side unless he is truly out of line.
Playing the victim when you are not also pisses me the fuck off.
Grow up.

Point Seven:
If you tell me you are a bartender somewhere local and drink in my bar for the evening, I will make it a point to come see you at your bar. I don't even really know why. It's some sort of Sisterhood of Bartenders or some shit.

If you tell me that you used to be a bartender sometime, somewhere, I really don't care. You still get the same treatment as everyone else. There is no secret Sisterhood of Bartenders Past.

Similarly, why are you telling me that you are trying to get a job at this bar? I can't help you, I just work here.

Point Eight:
I care a great deal about many of my regular customers. I have known a lot of those guys for years... 
So yes, I know which guys are available, which ones are married, who has a good job, making good money with BCBS insurance and which ones are unemployed and broke.
 I won't tell you.
You gold-digging fake ass bitch.

Point Nine:
I don't mind when you get fucked up and I end up holding onto your keys. And purse. And phone. And coat. 
Shit happens.
I don't mind paying for your cab or giving you a ride home at the end of the night.

Don't expect it every time you come out though. I am a bartender, and while I do care if you get home safely, I am not a babysitter and you are a very big girl now.
Act like it.

Point Ten:
God knows I understand being broke. 
I don't look down on anyone, male or female, for asking a friend to buy them a beer. If you want to sit there and cry your eyes out because your husband left you or your boyfriend turned out to be gay, go ahead. 
I'll probably buy you a beer myself.
But if you come into the bar on my shift and ask my regular customers to buy you drinks every fucking night and bawl about the same damn story or the same worthless piece of shit?
I'm going to cut you off and send you home and refuse to serve you the next time you come in. 
Your drama runs my tipping customers off and I'm doing you a favor by forcing you to sober up and find a fucking job.

 If your life keeps breaking in the same place, and everyone keeps fucking you over? It's probably not the rest of the world. I would bet money on it being you and you're gonna have to look a little deeper than the bottom of that glass, Sweetheart.


  1. LMAO!

    I can see why Gomez liked you!


  2. Madam, you rock.

    I did a stint as a "security guard" (read; bouncer, baby-sitter, keg-changer, bathroom cleaner and all-purpose-shitty-job-doer) for a skank-o-rific bar/casino for a year; this post rather accurately sums up my experience. Especially because I had to give some of the "random drunk broken girls" you talk about rides home...yeah, okay, I didn't HAVE to do it, but if I DIDN'T do it the bar could get fined and by refusing I wasn't a team player, see? /sarcasm

    After one too many times of cleaning up puke, passing out tissues, listening to issues and defending my OWN boundaries from weird-ass chicks (sometimes physically), I lost whatever sympathy I might have once possessed for the "random broken drunk girl".

    Sure, if somebody's got real issues I'll still listen. You see those people when you work the bar scene and hell, I'm better at listening to those people than I used to be. But you ALSO see and hear a hell of a lot of fake-ass bullshit, and when your living is dealing with people who drink you learn to tell the difference between the two pretty damn fast. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that - fuck, you probably know that better than I do. You pour the drinks, after all.

    Don't know if you'll see this (my comment is about 2 years behind the times) but I hope you do. Again, one bar veteran to another, you rock face. And you're completely on-target.


    1. Thank you, Sir. I love when people can relate. Sometimes I really think maybe I'm just an asshole.