Putting The “Toxic” Into “Intoxicated”, Part 2
Back in 2015, when I still studied, I sometimes manned a student bar at one of the big student clubs in the town. The student clubs, called Nations, are huge and several hundred years old, and they are all run By The Book (TM).
Swedish alcohol law is VERY strict, and serving someone more than they can handle is technically a jailable offense for the bartender (even though punishment rarely happens). That also means that only the bartender can decide when you’ve had enough.
Once in a while, the Nation I worked at held parties for people active in past times, like the 1960s or 1990s, and this took place during one of them. A pair of men in their forties, obviously VERY drunk, waddled toward my bar.
Drunk Man #1: “Heyyo! Give us a couple of twelves of gin and tonic!”
That’s twelve centiliters of gin; a normal is four centiliters.
Drunk Man #2: “Yeah, and don’t pour too much tonic into it, if you get it?
The first man slid a 1000-kronor bill (100 dollars) toward me.
Me: “No.”
Drunk Man #1: “Waddya mean, no?”
He slid another one towards me, without waiting to hear my explanation.
Me: “Well, first of all, we have never sold twelves. Secondly, you’ve had quite enough. I can mix up something tasty and non-alcoholic for you?”
Drunk Man #1: “Nah, whaddya mean? We’re not drunk! Not enough. Come on! Give us drinks now!”
Me: “No. I can recommend water. A lot of it.”
Drunk Man #2: “Nah, you, you, you should know that we drank less back when we ruled this place! Give us gin and tonic, now!”
Me: “I cannot sell you that, and you know why. Accept my call or leave the premises.”
Drunk Man #1: “Ahh, I get it!”
He slid another bill towards me and winked. All three remained on the counter.
Me: “Sorry. The law is clear, and you wouldn’t handle a two-centiliter gin and tonic, let alone a twelve. Water, non-alcoholic, or nothing.”
Drunk Man #1: “Listen here, you little s***! Don’t you know me? Don’t you know who I used to be? I was the chairman in 1991! Everyone—”
Me: *Interrupting* “I wasn’t born then, good sir. I was born in 1992.”
The two men deflated and slunk away. The doorman said that the two friends had wailed and moaned about being denied alcohol by someone born after their “prime”.
The best part? They left the money. The other workers and I split it, and we had beer money for three parties!
Question of the Week
Tell us your story about a customer who couldn't understand the most simple concept.
