30 September 2012

No, really. I Hate You...

"Yeah. Can I get a Captain and coke? But, listen,  can you make it kinda strong?"

Yes, yes I can. For the three extra fucking dollars it costs to pour you a double. Or? I can do a high pour, and make you think it's a long pour. Because, you know, I'm a dick like that.

I mean, really, if you would have tipped more than 50 fucking cents on any drink that you ordered so far this evening, I might consider pouring a little bit extra.
But since you have tipped 50 fucking cents on every single order? 
Whether I rang in $1.50 or 10.50?
Fuck you.
I will raise the bottle all the way to the ceiling, still doing a 3 count, and you will buy the "I made it extra strong for you" bullshit, even though you just told me that you used to work at a bar, somewhere, sometime...
I mean, I don't hate you as a person... I hate the idea of you, and every one of YOU that I deal with on a daily basis.

"Hey! It's this asshole's 21st birthday. What kind of shot are you gonna buy him?"

You buy him a shot, and then?
I will be happy to buy a shot for the guy.
However? I do not understand this whole entitlement thing that people have about their birthdays. 
For real
. Do not ever, ever, ask the bartender to buy anyone anything.
I will, because it's someone's birthday, right?
But if someone walks into my bar and doesn't pay for a fucking thing, tip aside; there is no way in Hell I'm gonna buy the first shot.
If you tell me it's someone's birthday? I'll be happy to buy them a shot. If you EXPECT me to buy a shot, however,  just because you happened to be born on this date 21 years ago?
Fuck off.
People are born every fucking day that didn't ask to be born.
You are a jack off.

I understand drunk people.
They piss me off sometimes.
I usually forgive them, let it go, because they are fucked up and all that... right?
If you just happen to be that one guy?
Whose first name starts with Jeff?
Don't come into my bar and try to order a drink after 2AM.
Because, yes, I did call last call.
And yes, I am still serving until 3.
Unless you happen to be that guy.
Whose first name starts with Jeff...
Just so you know, if you're that dude?
You can come into my bar at 10PM and I will still say, "Shit man, I'm sorry. I already called last call." Because really?
I fucking hate you.


  1. I always hated shit tips from shitty tippers. Shit tips are from people who've never had a real job before they chose their career. Real jobs are anything that pays less than minimum wage and rely on the general public to subsidize your wages that the government seems none to interested in legislating up to a reasonable level (like maybe *AT LEAST* one that'll cover your gas/transit expenditure for getting to work, tax deductions, assholes walking on a bill, paying for vehicle maintenance (delivery!), or having to purchase some shitty uniform or uniform parts/pieces on a "tip credit" wage). Don't get me started on the whole concept of $20/night+tips shit, either.

    Also, as a I general rule, I try to turn down every shot on my birthday after the first four, as I will supplement with my own purchased drinks and I find that I have major issues remembering birthday celebrations that took place in a bar. I have vague recollections of things like... having my mouth blown open, cheeks flapping, from a leaf blower... crawling through gravel to get home, while each individual piece embeds itself in my bare knee... trying to figure out why my living room is full of shopping carts... the usual sort of shenanigans.

    Also, thank fuck I'm not named Jeff. I'm about 25/75 on guys named Jeff being either mediocre or complete douche bags. (I have quite a few name connotations rolling around in my brain. Example: You are the only the second variation of Christina/Chrissy/Chris/Krissy/Crystal/Krystal/etc with whom I've ever had any form of communication that I could likely stand to be around for any period of time. I can't stand Elizabeth/Lizzie/Lizzy/Liz's, though. I have, without fail, been unable to tolerate a single one of those...) Extra ass-hat points to any Jeff with a stupid nickname that dates back to high school. Get over it, Jeff. You peaked in the 11th grade. You'll never get any cooler, you'll never be any more popular, you'll never be any more athletic. As a matter of fact, it's pretty much been all downhill for you since high school. Fuck you, Jeff. (Except you, Jeff, you're almost okay enough to move from pitied to tolerated.)

    1. Holy hell, I think I just fell in love. LOL! I have always hated finding shopping carts in my living room.

  2. I wonder if that crap ever works (kinda like the "you taking me home with you???" line). Seems like it must or they'd quit, but I can't imagine any bartenders anywhere giving out free booze to some unknown asshole just because they asked. Especially if they don't tip worth shit.

    Actually the pickup line and asking for extra booze are totally the same - these guys are so desperate for [drinks/pussy] that they'll say and try anything even though they know it won't work, desperately trying to not have to pay for [drinks/pussy]... again.

    And so far I'm 0/100 for Jeffs. All douchebags. Does naming your kid Jeff make him a douche, or do mothers instinctively know their kid will be a douche and try to warn the world by naming him Jeff? Someone should get a federal grant and study that...