Pretty much any bar will have rail liquor. These are the most budget-friendly, house-brand spirits that are kept in the “speed rail,” which is a designated rack directly below the counter for easy access. These spirits are automatically used for mixed drinks (e.g., “vodka and Coke”) unless a specific brand is requested by the customer.

Customer: “I want a Long Island! Top shelf!”

Me: “To be clear, by top shelf, you mean top shelf for the tequila, vodka, light rum, gin, and triple sec?”

Customer: “Yes! Top shelf! Best ingredients!”

Me: “I can do that, but it usually tastes better with the house liquor when mixing—”

Customer: “—top shelf! Top!”

I make it for her, and she takes one sip.

Customer: “Eww! This tastes like nothing but Tanqueray.”

I remake it for her, this time using our rail liquor gin.

Customer: “Eww! Now all I can taste is the Belvedere!”

Not wanting to waste any more time on this, I finally made one with all rail liquor.

Customer: “You finally made it right! Finally! Top-shelf!”

I slide the two earlier attempts closer to her.

Me: “I’ll leave these other two here for you, too.”

Customer: “Why? I’m not going to drink them!”

Me: “Yes, but you are going to pay for them.”

I work at a cocktail bar.

Customer: “Can I get a non-alcoholic Manhattan?”

Me: “Uh, not really, no. That cocktail isn’t really viable as a non-alcoholic version.”

Customer: “I see, it’s my fault as I phrased it like a question. I want a non-alcoholic Manhattan.”

Me: “Doesn’t matter how you phrase it, ma’am, I can’t make you a virgin version of a cocktail that’s essentially all alcohol.”

Customer: “This place is meant to be the best cocktail bar in the city, and with the prices you charge, I expect you to give the customer what they want.”

Me: “I can suggest some non-alcoholic options that might have the same flavor profile, but—”

Customer: “Non… alcoholic… Manhattan.”

So I brought over a martini glass with a cherry in it.

My friends and I usually hold our birthday parties at a bar we all enjoy. At the time of this story, [Friend #1] has recently moved in with his girlfriend as his birthday approached, and so had warned us that we might need to pick a different venue from usual.

This SHOULD have been his (and our) first red flag, but we, the dumba**es, just assumed the different location meant the bar was now out of his way enough to make travel questionable. When he confirmed the usual spot would be fine, we let our worries fade away.

His birthday arrives, and we eat, drink, and be merry. Halfway through the festivities, [Girlfriend] shows up.

Girlfriend: “What the f*** are you still doing here?”

Friend #2: “We’re having a party? That’s kind of what birthdays are for.”

Girlfriend: “Go f*** yourself.” *To [Friend #1].* “Why the h*** are you drinking?”

Friend #1: “Because the drinks taste good.”

Girlfriend: “Are you done?”

Friend #1: “Done what?”

Girlfriend: “Being drunk.”

Friend #3: “That’s… not how alcohol works.”

Girlfriend: “F*** you, too.” *Grabbing [Friend #1]’s arm.* “We’re leaving.”

Friend #1: *Wrenching his arm free.* “No, YOU’RE leaving. I am going to enjoy my birthday party as I TOLD you I was going to LAST WEEK.”

[Girlfriend] stormed out of the bar and waited ominously by the curb until the bouncer drove her off. [Friend #1] moved out of her place the very next day and crashed with me while he was looking for a new home.

Years later, he refers to her barging in on his birthday party as “the best birthday gift she could’ve given me” – a giant warning sign that she was going to try and force her preferences on him as long as they were dating, allowing him to get out of the relationship ASAP.

I went to a local bar to watch the College World Series final. There’s no sound on the TV.

Bartender: “We can’t play the sound for the game because more patrons want to play the jukebox than watch the game.”

There are about twelve people in the bar total, including my party of four. This seems silly, seeing as how it’s a sports bar and there aren’t any other major sporting events occurring at the same time as this game.

I decide that since the patrons want the jukebox, the jukebox is what they’ll get. 

I cue up the “Cotton Eyed Joe” by Rednex, six times in a row, and pay the extra to bump it to the front of the queue.

After the first play-through, the jukebox skips to a different song. I call the manager over.

Me: “You need to refund our jukebox money since you won’t play our song.”

Manager: “I’d rather listen to Cotton Eyed Joe six times than refund the money.”

He comes back a few minutes later, hands us $13 cash to cover the songs, and turns on the sound for the baseball game. Turns out his patrons didn’t want to listen to the jukebox that badly after all.

Customer: “I’m gluten-free.”

Me: “Well, we have some bottles of gluten-free beer available.”

Customer: “But none on happy hour?”

Me: “Sorry, we only have those for beers on tap.”

Customer: “I’ll take a Blue Moon.”

Me: “That’s not gluten-free.”

Customer: “Yeah, but right now I value my wallet more than my bowels…”