First of all, the door guy was drunk when we got there.
Shit happens, right?
Probably he would have gotten through the night okay if he hadn't asked for a shot fifteen minutes into his shift.
So... he got sent home.
Which meant we had to check every ID that came through the door.
Which is a pain in the ass when it gets super busy.
Then we irritate the shit out of people because we don't remember everyone, we don't know if the other bartender checked the ID of an individual or not and we end up double or triple carding people.
I overhear some talk of "ladders".
And I KNOW, absolutely that it is going to be a bad fucking night.
If you do not know, this refers to Xanax pills.
The really big ones.
I have only seen two things happen when Xanax is mixed with alcohol.
People get violently angry for no reason, develop retard strength and generally end up in fights and jail.
Or they pass the fuck out and I feel obligated to check their heart rate every so often.
Because the shit fucking kills people when they mix it in with alcohol.
Then, twenty minutes into my shift, I get that girl... Yeah, the same one.
Spilled her drink last time...
She orders a double shot, I measure it with an ounce and a quarter shot glass, meaning that she actually ends up with two and a half shots in her glass.
Since the girl insists on getting something for nothing, she tries to tell me five minutes later that I didn't give her a double shot.
She pours what is in her glass into two one-ounce plastic glasses, it only fills one and a half of them, and shrugs.
"I know you didn't measure it or anything, so it's not your fault... but this isn't a double shot and I haven't even touched it." She is all sweetness and innocence.
"Actually," I tell her, unable to keep my, what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you expression off my face, "I did measure it, and you actually got two and a half shots."
She is not so sweet when she mentions that she will not order any more.
I wonder if I will get in trouble for telling her to just go ahead and leave now.
Then, the other girl.
She orders a Corona, which I open and serve her.
Then she asks how much it costs and wants to get a cheaper beer.
I roll my eyes and put the open Corona in the cooler, reasonably sure I can sell it later, but annoyed nontheless.
And then the pre-drinker comes in and orders two pitchers of beer before deciding to sing karaoke.
Which would have been super had he not spent ten minutes on the microphone yelling and making various statements before singing.
I wonder how much I would have to pay the karaoke guy to throw away the rest of this kid's slips.
Then, there is some disturbance on the floor between a guy and two or three other people. I am still unsure of the events that lead up it, because I couldn't even pretend to care at that point. We told the guy to leave. He declined.
We told him a bit more harshly and he stumbled around outside for a few moments, tried to come in again, got angry that he was denied entry and then he forgot he even wanted to come in and wandered away.
AND THEN... just before closing some crazy bitch.
Her and her friend sit at a table and are perturbed when the other bartender takes away the drinks they have brought in with them. The crazy one is further annoyed by the fact that we refuse to serve her at all.
She then proceeds to make a scene in the bar, accusing some guy that has just come in of assaulting some other girl in some other bar.
I have no idea whether this is a true statement, and I don't care.
If he assaulted some girl somewhere else?
Not my fucking problem.
The girl is told to leave.
She also declines.
She attempts to jump over the guy standing between her and the first guy.
The middle guy grabs her arms, gently, and steers her towards the door.
She starts screaming about being assaulted, tells us that the bar is trash and calls the other bartender a slut before walking out and then back in again.
The other bartender informs her that she is calling the police to deal with her and the girl leaves.
She walks down the block, she suddenly decides that she has not made a big enough ass of herself just yet, so she turns around for her fourth attempt and is detoured by a squad car.
I can only assume her stupidity is not solely alcohol based and wonder how many Xanax she has eaten this evening.
Three o'clock comes around and we lock the door with a huge sigh of relief. We toast each other, and proclaim this night to have been the worst bartending experience ever.
Fuck you full moon.