Going Alone

Worked west bar by myself. Bradley was out of town and I drew short straw to man the two wells by myself. Becky and Jennifer took my normal stomping grounds of the east bar and did a good job but I found myself in a world of hurt moments after the show started.

The crowd was rowdy and craved strong drink. I was lucky to have three cocktail waitresses that pushed me but I still had time to pour almost $900 in drinks at the bar. Most of my guests were pretty decent but one bad apple mucked everything up. He ordered a tropical long island and chased and carried with a credit card. When I returned he ordered a shot of rum. I asked him if it was for the mixed drink and he said no. As I was cashing him out, I caught him pouring the shot in the drink.

What a punk.

I read him the riot act and verbal assaulted him in front of the bar. By the time I was done, I had customers ready to take him out the BACK door and make sure he understood how serious I was. I don’t like acting like a tough guy mostly because I am not. I am all sizzle and no steak when it comes to physical confrontations but I am an absolute bully when it comes to verbal fights. With almost 20-years behind the bar, I know how to joust with words and am definitely not afraid to use them. I rarely worry about the repercussions of dressing somebody down. At the best, I have a small army of bouncers that are ready to pulverize any opponent. At worst, I know how to take a punch.

The guy came to his senses, left my presence and had the internal fortitude to apologize upside down for what he did. Good. Manners mean something and the social order demands that offenders make right with their offenses.

In the end, he was a blurp in a night that made me sweat through two shirts and allowed me the honor of pouring half of the nights drinks. I might be more of a blocker but I know how to run a service well.

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