Transitioning Away From Toxic People

, , , , , | Friendly | September 18, 2017

(I’m at a gay bar with some friends, and we’re talking to some people we’ve never met before. I’m a trans guy.)

Girl #1: “Who do we have here? [Friend #1], [Friend #2], and…” *points to me*

Me: “[My Name].”

Girl #2: “That’s a guy’s name.”

Me: “Yeah… I’m a guy. I’m trans.”

Girl #2: “That’s stupid.”

Me: “What?”

Girl #2: “You’re not trans. You’re just gay and can’t admit it, because you’ve been raised in such a homophobic world. Just admit your love for women as a lesbian.”

Me: “Uh… I’m queer. I like people: men, women, whatever. I’m not ashamed of that.”

Girl #2: “Pfft, whatever. Call me when this trans thing is over; you’re cute.”

(My friends and I are speechless as the girl leaves. The first girl watches her leave and turns to us.)

Girl #1: “So, she’s dead to me. Shall I buy the next round?”

It Doesn’t Take Ein-Stein To Figure Out Why

, , , | Right | September 12, 2017

(Most of the bars at German beer fests actually rent their beer mugs, simply because it’s cheaper to rent 1000 steins for three days than to rent storage for 1000 steins for the whole year… at least as long as fewer than five to ten percent of them are broken or stolen at the beer fest. I’m a cashier at such a bar.)

Customer: “How much does a beer mug cost?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we rent them, so I cannot sell them to you.”

Customer: “So, they are not yours?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Customer: “Cool. That means that they are free!”

Me: “Wait, what!? No, that means—”

Customer: *interrupting* “—you already said they’re not yours. I’m taking it.”

(Before I could react, the customer vanished into the crowd. This incident, alongside the fact that we lost almost 200 of the mugs that year, was the reason we’ve been charging a deposit for the mugs since the following year. Many customers accused us of trying to steal money that way from them – they did not see the irony – but, what do you know, we only lost 16 steins this year. I wonder why.)

No Springing Bok From This

, , , , | Friendly | September 10, 2017

(My friends and I are all big Rugby supporters. At one point one of my friends introduces us to a young female couple that she knows. To put it mildly, they are both quite opinionated and rude, but because my friend likes them, I resolve to be civil to them. During the 2007 Rugby World Cup, South Africa looks likely to win it, and one of the girls starts putting up all manner of patriotic South Africa posts. For the final, she turns up at the bar wearing her Springbok jersey and goes crazy when they beat England to win. After, we’re all having a drink and she has an annoying smug grin on her face. My friend and my housemate are also there with me as well.)

Friend’s Friend: “Oh my God, I am so PROUD to be South African today!”

Me: “So, which part of your family is South African?”

Friend’s Friend: “My dad used to live there.”

Housemate: “He was born there?”

Friend’s Friend: “No, he was born in Rusholme; his parents lived there.”

Me: “So, his parents are South African then?”

(Suddenly, the girl gives me a really nasty look as if I’ve touched a nerve.)

Friend’s Friend: “Well…no, they’re from England.”

(Almost immediately, my friends and I exchange some worried glances. We can tell this conversation won’t end well.)

Friend: “So, did he grow up and go to school there at least?”

Friend’s Friend: “No, they just lived there for a couple years.”

Me: “Umm… so, you’re not South African then?”

Friend’s Friend: “What are you talking about? Of course, I am!”

Housemate: “You just said none of your family is South African, that means that you’re not either!”

Friend’s Friend: “My dad lived there, that makes me South African!”

Me: “My mum briefly lived in Japan as a child, but she doesn’t tell go around telling people she’s Japanese!”

Friend’s Friend: “ARE YOU ALL F****** STUPID? I’M A BLOODY SPRINGBOK, BORN AND BRED!”

Friend: “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but you’re not! You need to be a South African citizen, or at least have ancestry from there, to be what you’re claiming. Your dad living there doesn’t automatically make you a Bok!”

(Suddenly, the girl let out a really loud scream, which turned a lot of heads toward her, before storming out of the bar with her girlfriend in tow. She refused to speak to any of us again after that, and when we would see her on nights out she would avoid us like the plague. We heard through a mutual friend that she claimed we had “ruined her life” through our observations. Not really sure how she thought citizenship worked, but clearly she had the wrong idea.)

Unfiltered Story #93146

, , | Unfiltered | September 9, 2017

My friends and I buy tickets to a concert, not realizing it is at a bar and they won’t let anyone in who is underage, including my male friend. I am female, and recently lost my ID, got a new one, and then found my old ID, so I have two copies. My male friend and I don’t really look alike, but he has long, wavy hair about the same length and color as mine and similar eyeglasses. The bar is dark and the bouncer usually doesn’t do more than glance at the ID before letting people in, so we decide to try to sneak him in with my extra ID. He is in the middle of our group trying to get in and so far, the bouncer is barely looking at anyone’s IDs, so all is going to plan. My friend is next, and hands the bouncer my ID. The bouncer looks at the ID, back at my friend, back at the ID, and back at my friend again.

Bouncer (indicating my ID): “This is a girl.”
Friend: “…Oh.”

The bouncer returns my ID to my friend and he walks away dejectedly. We did manage to sneak him in after the show started, by drawing the hand stamp on him, but we made sure to pull his hair back and remove his glasses, so he wasn’t recognized as “the guy who tried to use a girl’s ID.”

Underserved And Overblamed

, , , | Right | August 24, 2017

(The day I turned 18, I got my pro-serve (licensing to sell and serve liquor) and started bartending. Six years down the line, I’m working at a small town lounge/bar with a restaurant on the other side. I’ve only been here a few months but know all the regulars and ins-and-outs of the business. One of said regulars comes in and orders his usual: one single beer and an order of wings. About two minutes after he’s served his drink, he says he’ll be right back and goes outside. Not unusual for this guy, as he’s a smoker. A few minutes pass and he’s back in and gets his food. After two bites, he again says he’d be right back, pays his tab and goes outside. About a minute later, I hear a BANG followed by squealing tires. A truck has backed into another vehicle, HARD.)

Me: “Whoever owns the red Ford Taurus, please come up to the bar immediately.”

(A woman, about 20, comes up with her boyfriend. They’ve had a couple drinks and a LOT of food.)

Woman: “Hey, that’s what I drive. What’s going on?”

Me: “I’m so sorry; someone just backed into your car and took off. Police have already been called.”

(The woman LOSES it. Bear in mind, the car was rusty and old to begin with, but I can understand her frustration.)

Woman: “What the he*** do you mean? Where did he go?”

Me: “Don’t panic; we have cameras outside and that guy sitting by the window saw the whole thing.”

(The police arrive and start asking questions, getting the camera footage, etc. Focus turns to me.)

Officer: “So, [My Name], who’s the driver?”

Me: “I believe his name is [Common Name] or [Super Common Name], but I never paid much attention.”

Officer: “Okay, and I’m going to need you to be very honest with me here, because you can be arrested for this. How much did he have to drink?”

Me: “Only one beer, a [popular LITE beer]; nothing else. I have never over-served.”

(My manager nods in agreement, adding that I’m the strictest employee they have when it comes to serving.)

Officer: “I don’t believe that. I’m gonna need to see his tab, and it better correspond with the video.”

(We spend the next 20 minutes watching and showing the officer the footage and tab, which proves he only had one beer. I have a revelation at that point.)

Me: “WAIT! He didn’t even finish his beer OR wings; they’re still sitting behind the bar! He said he’d be right back so I set them there so nobody would touch them!”

(Sure enough, we go back and find a bottle over 3/4 full, and wings with a bite taken out of one. The officer is adamant it’s somehow my fault.)

Officer: “That’s fine; that means he was drunk when he came in and you still served him.”

Me: “Okay, I don’t mean to be rude and I’m cooperating fully, so I don’t get the vendetta you have for me. He was not drunk whatsoever. I served him a beer which you saw he only took a couple sips from. He didn’t smell of alcohol or have any warning signs at all. He was totally sober. Dude probably just didn’t want to get caught and have his insurance go up.”

(The officer seems satisfied with this and walks off to talk to the owners of the other vehicle. We finally find the guy on Facebook and get his details to the officer. I take photos of the damage and text them to the woman since her camera didn’t work. All is fine and dandy and they leave, until…)

Me: *to Manager* “In all that chaos, that couple didn’t pay their bill!”

Manager: “D*** it! Ugh. Okay, how much was it?”

Me: “$89.”

Manager: “You best be calling that officer and finding out who they are. I cannot discount or write off liquor.”

Me: “Oh, right, I texted her photos!”

(I send a text to the woman; no reply for 15 minutes. I call and leave a message. No reply after 30 minutes longer. I send another text advising her I’ll contact the officer for her details if she doesn’t come back to pay. She finally replies and says she’ll be right there.)

Woman: *while punching in her PIN* “I figured since you over-served that guy and he f***** up my car, you’d buy our food.”

Me: “Erm, no. For one, the officer called. They found him. He’s sober as a nun. For two, why would I buy your food for you for any reason? This is how I pay my bills. I don’t do this job to blow my money on other people.”

Woman: *now finished paying* “Well, we will see about that I guess.” *mumbling* “You’re a s***ty server… Crappy place… Food sucked!”

Me: “Okay, seriously? I used MY break to scour Facebook for that guy. We had ZERO mutual friends, so it took some digging. I sent YOU pictures of the damage. I called the cops for YOU. I gave them the video footage. I did all this for you, and that’s how I’m repaid? With attitude and blame? It’s a d*** good thing I work in a bar or I’d never, EVER say this to a customer, but f*** you and don’t ever come back. And by the way, for our food being so crappy, you sure ate a lot of it.”

Woman: *mouth wide open, gasping*

(No tip.)

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