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A Different Kind Of Blow Out

, , , | Right | August 13, 2021

The salon where I work offers complimentary glasses of wine and champagne to patrons receiving services so long as they are of legal drinking age and can prove it with ID if we ask. We offer water and sometimes soda as an alternative or if the patrons are younger. I am working on a young client, possibly in her late teens. She sees one of my coworkers take out a bottle of wine and pour a few glasses.

Client: “Excuse me, is that alcohol?”

Me: “Yes. It’s white wine.”

Client: “How much is it?”

Me: “We actually offer it free of charge, so long as—”

Client: *Cutting me off* “And do you have to be twenty-one?”

Me: “Yes. You can only drink it if you’re twenty-one.”

I don’t know what would make her think that she, as a minor, would be excluded from purchasing and consuming alcohol from a grocery store, bar, liquor store, public event, parties, and everything in between due to age restrictions according to law but would easily be able to enjoy it in a random nail salon without consequence.

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Oh, We’re So Disappointed That You’re Leaving

, , , , , | Working | August 12, 2021

I work in a hotel and handle the night auditing. I recently had a rather irritating situation, though that has thankfully resolved itself.

I have only been working at this particular hotel for approximately three months, and since I work from 11:00 pm to 7:00 am, I am on shift when the [Breakfast Bar Girl] arrives. 

It’s 1:00 am when the phone rings, which is a little unusual.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel], this is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Breakfast Bar Girl: *Slurring* “Hey, it’s [Breakfast Bar Girl].” *Giggles* “I’m really sick and won’t be in in the morning, but you should be able to cover the breakfast, right?” *Giggles some more*

Me: “No, I can’t. You’re supposed to notify the manager. Do you have a pen so you can take down her number?”

Breakfast Bar Girl: “Nooooo.” *Laughs and then pauses for a long time* “Why do I have to call her?”

Me: “Uh, because she has to come in and cover your shift or approve the overtime for me to wait until another manager comes in.”

Breakfast Bar Girl: “Well, can’t you call her? I can’t call her. You have to.”

She giggled again and hung up.

I was ready to jump through the phone and shake her. Her shift started at 5:30, and she was clearly drunk, and, by the sounds of it, having a good time with someone. I messaged the manager about her calling out, and he confirmed it.

Well, apparently, after calling out with the giggle illness, she came in to work anyway. The poor guy at the desk who had to replace me also reported to the manager that she was swaying and falling over a lot. 

The breakfast food was 90% gone before he realized he hadn’t seen her restock in a while and went to check. She had swayed her way into the pantry, shut the door behind her, and promptly passed out on the floor, where the front desk guy found her.

She mumbled refusals to wake up and slapped drunkenly at people who tried to shake her, and it took a glass of ice water to the face to bring her shrieking to awareness. She found herself looking at the front desk guy and a scowling manager with the empty glass in hand.

She slurred, “I kwuh… I quite… I, um, I quit,” and walked out.

An anonymous call to the police was made about a drunken driver on the road the instant her car started moving.

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Being Eight Is Really Hard, Okay?!

, , , , , , | Related | August 11, 2021

My husband and I go out to lunch with some of his family members. His grandmother, who is in her nineties and still sharp as a tack, orders a glass of wine. She drinks maybe a third of it before accidentally knocking over the glass. It doesn’t break, but the wine spills into the lap of my cousin-in-law’s daughter, who is about eight.

We flag the server over to alert her. While the server is mopping up the spill, she knocks the wine glass over and the rest of it — you guessed it — splashes the same poor kid AGAIN. We all start laughing at the unfortunate coincidence while the girl sits glumly in her chair, her lap soaking wet.

My cousin-in-law shakes her head.

Cousin-In-Law: “I really hope I don’t get pulled over on the way home. I don’t want to have to explain why my kid smells like booze.”

She didn’t get stopped, thankfully.

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If There Was Ever A Guy Who Needed A Pizza…

, , , , | Right | July 22, 2021

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Shop]! This is [My Name]; how may I help you?”

Customer: *Speaking slowly in a drunken raspy grumble* “…burritos?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t actually have burritos here.”

Customer: “Awww… subs?”

Me: “No, sir, I’m sorry. We have pizza, wings, cheese sticks… things like that.”

Customer: “Ohhhh…”

There’s a long pause.

Me: “Would you like some pizza today, sir?”

Customer: “Yeeaaahhh… what’s the smallest you have?”

Me: “That would be the small. It’s a ten-inch pizza.”

Customer: *Grumbles slowly* “Oohhhhh… I want sausage… pepperoni… and finely chopped onions.”

Me: “Our onions are actually sliced into thin strips. Is that okay?”

Customer: *Grumbles disapprovingly*

Me: *Stifling laughter* “So, no onions, then?”

Customer: *In low, raspy grumble* “Noooooo… Throw some hot peppers on there.”

Me: “Jalapeños or banana peppers?”

Customer: *Drunkenly* “Ba-na-na.”

Me: *Stifling more laughter* “Anything else on there for you, sir?”

Customer: “Finely chopped tomatoes.”

Me: “Our tomatoes are diced, so they’re in kind of little cubes.”

Customer: *Low raspy grumble* “Cuuuubes…”

Me: *Trying not to crack up laughing* “Will that be all for you today, then, sir?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Okay, that’ll be [total], and we’ll have that out to you in about forty-five minutes.”

Customer: “What’s the price?”

Me: *Repeats the total*

Customer: *Low raspy grumble* “Ooohhhhh…”

The delivery driver has been standing next to me the whole time.

Delivery Driver: “I can’t wait to meet this guy.”

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We’d Feel Bad Writing A Funny Title For This One

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: b00mtown | July 16, 2021

I’m working an early dinner shift at a fancy, fine dining setting. A four-top reservation comes in — two older married couples in their fifties. They get a table by a window, watching the beautiful sunset. The place is still empty, the piano is just starting up, and it’s a calm, lovely scene.

While they’re being seated, [Husband #1] is intent on the wine list and wants to order before I’ve left the table after my first greeting. He picks out a decent $80 cabernet for the table and I signal to my back waiter to switch out glassware while I head down into the cellar for the bottle. I come up and go through the pouring and tasting and then serve each guest.

As soon as I put the bottle down, the man takes it and empties it among the four glasses, so each of them has a red wine glass that is super full, and everyone at the table is clearly not amused. I watch as [Husband #1] chugs his glass in a desperate series of gulps. His wife is saying his name quietly while the other couple just sits awkwardly with their fifty-gallon wine glasses, trying to sip them without spilling.

I come back to see if they are ready to order. Everyone is, but [Husband #1] wants to start with another bottle. I sort of agree, noting everyone’s glass is full but his. Everyone orders food and he mentions the second bottle.

Me: “Would you like to wait for it to be served with the food, or should I bring it straight away?”

Wife #1: *Suddenly blurting* “[Husband #1], you’re an alcoholic.”

The man immediately gets red in the face and doubles down on the order.

Husband #1: “We’ll take the second bottle now.”

Then, the other woman looks up at me.

Wife #2: “He drove us here. If you serve him, he will be putting our lives at risk.”

Husband #2: *Flatly* “Our lives are in your hands.”

[Husband #1] is about to blow a gasket, his face is purple, and he’s sputtering. I just pick up the wine list and channel my best blackjack dealer.

Me: “I apologize, but I am not serving any more alcohol at this table.”

[Husband #1] slammed his butter knife into the table, making a ruckus, but his wife kind of calmed him down.

They ate three courses, totally silent the entire time. They didn’t say a word to each other or anyone. The tension was unbelievable. In the end, they let [Husband #1] pay, and he tipped me zero on $400.

But hey, I saved their lives.

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