It’s Not Even Just A Game To Them

, , , , , , , , | Right | April 12, 2019

I don’t have cable, and my favorite football team is playing their biggest rival on a Monday night, on cable. I go to my favorite sports bar which is down the block from our city’s downtown arena, where a big nu-metal concert is going on.

The bar is empty except for me, and in the third quarter a group of two older couples obviously coming from or going to the concert come in. They load the digital jukebox with nu-metal songs. The football commentary disappears and Disturbed songs take over.

The bartender, as invested in the game as I am — it’s an extremely close and hotly contested game, as games between these two teams tend to be — switches the audio feed back and offers the couples refunds.

For the remainder of the game, all four take up seats a foot behind me and loudly and vociferously decide they are adamant fans of my team’s rival. They’re not doing anything technically wrong that the bartender can kick them out for, but they’re being total jerks, including surrounding me to shout cheers for my team losing on a last-second field goal.

After I close out my tab, the bartender takes my pint glass, refills it to the brim, and leans in and says, “Kill that; don’t kill them,” and lets me keep the souvenir pint glass advertising my favorite seasonal beer.

Didn’t make the loss any better, but it helped deal with a group of real-life trolls.

Trouble Brewing Over The Matter Of Ownership

, , , | Right | March 27, 2019

(I run a small bar in western Washington. Since I regularly step in to help my employees, I’ve had plenty of the usual fare of customers with no ID, customers who look too young to drink, customers who’ve already had too much to drink, etc. This one, however, will always take the cake.)

Customer: “Pint of [local brew].”

Me: “Certainly. Can I just see your ID first?”

Customer: “No need. Pint of [local brew].”

Me: “I’m afraid there is a need, sir. You’re a handsome but young-looking kid, so I’ve got to check your ID.”

Customer: “Seriously? Do you know who I am?”

Me: “I’m afraid not; that’s why I’m asking.”

(The customer leans over the bar, pushing his face into mine.)

Customer: “I am a paying customer; that means I’m right! [Local brew], now, or how about I come around this bar and kick your d*** a** into the street? A few words to your boss and he’ll fire you on the spot for losing this place my money!”

Me: “I see. Unfortunately, I’m afraid there’s one fatal flaw in your logic there.”

Customer: “Yeah? What’s that?”

Me: “I own this place, meaning it’s up to me to decide who is and is not a paying customer. You haven’t bought anything, and you refuse to show me ID; therefore, you’re not a customer. Also, you’re threatening me, which means you’re not welcome in here anymore, either.”

(The customer’s bravado starts to falter and his face pales as I pull out my phone.)

Me: “So, how about you leave now before I call the police? That way no one has to be kicked into the street.”

Customer: “But… you… gah! You don’t look smart enough to be the owner!”

Me: “Sir, please leave and stop making this worse for yourself.”

(I started dialing the police, while the man thankfully wised up and exited the premises.)

What’s The Right Restaurant?

, , , , | Right | March 24, 2019

(I’m about to order meals for myself and my wife. The pub is very busy.)

Manager: *to the staff, drink in hand* “Okay, everyone, it’s really busy out there. If we don’t keep on top of everything we’re going to get flogged.”

(I decide to interrupt:)

Me: “Can I be flogged, too?”

(The manager spits his drink out back into his glass and most of the staff walk away in various directions.)

Me: “Sorry, wrong restaurant.”

(The manager came over to our table later with free drinks. He said I had made his night!)

Drinking Since I Was Knee-High To A Grasshopper!

, , , , , | Working | March 15, 2019

(I am 22 years old. The legal age to drink alcohol in the US is 21 years old, and people are supposed to check IDs of those who look under 30. I am a customer that has walked up to the bar and taken a seat. I put my wallet down on the bar, but make no room to open it just yet.)

Me: “Hi. Can you make a grasshopper?”

Bartender: “What is that?”

(That’s not an unusual response as it’s not a common drink, and many bars here do not stock all the ingredients.)

Me: “It’s a mixture of crème de menthe, crème de cacao, and cream.”

Bartender: “No, I’m sorry. We don’t have the crème de menthe.”

(He hands me a bar menu with the specialties and points them out.)

Me: “I’ll take [vodka-based drink].”

Bartender: “Coming right up.”

(I never was asked for my ID, and I was only one year older than the legal limit. My wallet was faced down, and even then, I keep my ID inside of it, so it doesn’t appear when closed. The bartender was very nice, and I think he probably just forgot. Or maybe he assumed I was over 21 because I knew a drink he didn’t! As someone who works in a bar myself, I know the repercussions of serving under-aged minors for both the server and business. If you’re not 100% sure, always ID!)

Unfiltered Story #142740

, | Unfiltered | March 6, 2019

(My sister and I are at a decent, upscale bar, drinking and relaxing. It is around 10 pm and she is talking with another guy and I’m listening to their conversation.)

Sister: “So where are you from?”

Guy: “[Nearby City].”

Sister: “And what do you do?”

Guy: “I’m in sales…”

(Behind her, I see a bunch of middle aged people dressed in skimpy clothing, talking loudly. I think nothing of it and then one woman TAKES OFF HER TOP, showing her bare breasts, and two men jump on her and begin intercourse! I nearly spit my drink out in shock.)

Me: “What the–”

Sister: “What’s wrong?”

Me: *tells her what’s happening behind her*

(She turns around, surveys the scene of the woman moaning and the men groaning, and her reaction is the same as mine. The guy pipes up.)

Guy: “Oh yeah, it’s swingers’ night tonight.”

Us: “S-swingers’ night?!?!”

Guy: “Yeah. They have it every Wednesday.” *stares at them*

(Needless to say, we were shocked by their behavior and when my sister inquired to the bartender, she shrugged and smiled. We were out of there! My sister has been to many more bars than I around the area, and she’s never seen anything like it!)

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