Couldn’t Understand It Any Less

, , , | Working | January 22, 2020

(I am on a cruise, at the bar buying a drink. I’m not a big drinker and want to pace myself.)

Me: “Could I have a Mojito, but could you only use half a nip of rum, please?”

Bartender: “Sorry, what did you say?”

Me: “A Mojito with half a nip of rum.”

Bartender: “I don’t understand ‘half a nip.’”

Me: “A nip is 30 ml, half is 15 ml.”

Bartender: “I know that, but what do you mean?”

Me: “I mean I want half the amount of rum that usually goes into Mojito.”

Bartender: “Oh, my God, sorry. I’m just so used to people asking for more alcohol; you’re the first to ask for less.”

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Engineered Himself Out Of A Bad Situation

, , , , , | Working | January 21, 2020

(This is one of my dad’s many stories. In the late 80s and early 90s, he was a very highly skilled network engineer, which at the time was just an emerging field. As a result, he jetted around a lot to help clients with installs and training on the new technology. In this case, he was sent to Argentina. My understanding is that it has cleaned up a lot in the last 30 or 40 years, but back then, it was not a great place. While at the hotel, his primary client contact insists that he should go to the club district while he is in town. My dad, not knowing any better, agrees, and picks a bar at random. The entrance to the bar is a steep set of metal stairs, which will be relevant later. He sits at the bar and orders a drink, but he starts getting a bad feeling about the place pretty quickly and decides he should go elsewhere, so he asks for the tab shortly after.)

Bartender: “Four hundred dollar.”

Dad: “What?”

Bartender: “Your bill. Four hundred dollar.”

(Bad feeling confirmed. My dad takes out all the money he has — a little over $100 — and places it on the counter, backing away slowly.)

Dad: “Look, this is all I’ve got. You can have it. I’m just going to leave.”

Bartender: “Four. Hundred. Dollar.”

Dad: “I don’t ha—”

(He is cut off by a blow to the front of his head from the billy club the bartender produced out of nowhere. Due to sheer bull-headed stubbornness — okay, and probably some adrenaline — he doesn’t black out, but manages to stumble towards the exit. Just as he gets there, he feels one of the bartender’s friends grab him by the shoulder. He very quickly decides on a course of action, and grabs the guy’s arm and yanks him down the stairs with him, doing his best to make sure that the other guy hits as many of the metal steps as possible on the way down. At the bottom, my dad gets up; the other guy does not. This is apparently enough to make my dad “not worth it” and he stumbles out onto the street. He tries to flag down a passing Policia, but the guy seems to develop a curious case of blindness at the bleeding American crossing his path. In the end, a hotel concierge manages to catch him before he stumbles deliriously into an even worse part of town, and after refusing a ride in an ambulance — 80s Argentinian hospital = NO — the gash in his head is super-glued shut and he is sent on his way. He actually finishes the job, with a huge knot on his forehead, and when he gets home to his workplace…)

Boss: “Whoa. What happened to you?”

Dad: “I got mugged.”

Boss: “…”

Dad: “In Argentina.”

Boss: “…”

Dad: “After the guy you sent me to work with told me to visit the club district.”

Boss: “Huh. Well, that sucks. Did the job get done?”

Dad: “Yes.”

Boss: “Great! Anyway, next month we have another trip lined up for you…”

(Yeah, my dad didn’t stay with that company too much longer.)

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A Howler For The Growler

, , , , | Right | January 20, 2020

(I work at a craft beer tasting room where we only serve our company’s product. One night, a man comes in, casually dressed but nothing out of the ordinary.)

Coworker: “Hi, welcome to [Business].”

(As it is the customer’s first time here, we explain the sizes, how you can get beer to-go, etc., but he cuts us off.)

Customer: “I just want something that will get me drunk!”

(I’m thinking at this point, “We are not the place for you.”)

Me: “What do you normally like to drink?”

Customer: “[Non-Craft Beer Brand] or malt liquor.”

Coworker: “[Beer Brand] is typically 4-5%. [Beer #1] and [Beer #2] are both 1 or 2% higher, and that really makes a difference.”

(My coworker serves a couple of samples.)

Customer: “[Beer #1] is kind of tangy, but I like [Beer #2]. Can I get a 32-ounce?”

Coworker & Me: “That is only to-go. Our largest size here is 16-ounce.”

Customer: “I could get a 64-ounce, then. There’s got to be a chair outside.”

Me: “Sir, that’s illegal. You’d have to take the beer home to drink.”

(The man still tried to buy a growler, but the minute we mentioned the price, he claimed that was too much for today. The ironic thing is that there are many restaurants and bars nearby that would have hard liquor for “getting drunk quickly.” I still think he was looking for a liquor store, and somehow ended up with us.)

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The Tires Are Flat But The Coke Is Not

, , , , , , | Working | January 19, 2020

About a week before my 21st birthday, I was driving out in the country and I blew not one, but both tires on my passenger side. A piece of metal from some farm equipment chewed through my tires and I only had one spare. 

I had to walk five miles to get to a place that had a payphone; this was 30 years ago and before cell phones were popular. I ended up finding a bar. I went in and called my grandfather to come and get me so we could get some new tires. But where I was, it was going to be an hour before he could get to me. After walking in the hot August sun, I was thirsty, so I headed to the bar and asked if I could buy a Coke. I knew they had them as they were in the glass-front fridge, presumably for mixed drinks. 

The bartender refused me. I tried to argue, saying that I only wanted a soda as I was hot. He refused me again since I was underage. 

I don’t know the laws in the area, so he may have been within his rights or may just have been a jerk, but in either case, I was hot, thirsty, and fuming mad because he refused to even offer me a glass of water. 

A week later, I turned 21. I took the day off of work to get my ID updated and that night I went to the bar. 

I walked in holding my new license that showed I was now 21 and the bartender beamed at me and asked what he could get me, now well willing to serve me.

I simply said, “My f****** Coke.”

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It’s Lactose-Free, Too!

, , , , | Right | January 15, 2020

Customer: *approaches the bar* “Hey, can I get a gluten-free lemonade, please?”

Me: *unfortunately pretty used to this now* “Ma’am, I can personally guarantee you that our lemonade does not contain gluten.”

Customer: “Oh, thank goodness. Gluten is just everywhere these days!”

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