Half The Drink, Twice The Trouble

| Milwaukee, WI, USA | Right | November 9, 2016

(A bar guest is apparently upset that his double drink cost more than his friend’s single mixer.)

Guest: “Please educate me. Why does my drink cost $3 more than my friend’s.”

Me: “Well, sir, you ordered a double; your friend ordered a single mixer.”

Guest: “What does that mean?”

Me: “It means your drink had twice as much alcohol, which we charged accordingly for.”

Guest: “I still don’t get it”

Me: “His drink had 1 ¼ oz of vodka, while yours had 2 1/2 oz. Our prices are based on how much alcohol you ordered.”

Guest: “Well, I drank mine faster than he drank his.”

Me: “Your drinking skills have no bearing on how much alcohol was in the drink.”

Guest: “Well, I don’t think that’s right.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way?”

Guest: “What can you do to make this right?”

Me: “Suggest you order a beer next time?”

(I didn’t receive the greatest tip from this guy, to say the least.)

Here’s Your Rum And Coke, Mistress

| Annapolis, MD, USA | Working | November 8, 2016

(I meet my husband at a bar after I’m done with work.)

Husband: “You look like you’re ready for a drink.”

Me: “Yeah, a little bit. Could I have a rum and Coke, please?”

Bartender: “No problem. You look a little stressed.”

Me: “I had a long evening at work. I’m just glad to be off.”

Bartender: “You got a hard job?”

Me: “Just a really, really weird one.”

Bartender: “It can’t be that strange.”

Me: “It’s pretty weird.”

Bartender: “I bet I’ve heard of weirder!”

Me: “I’m a professional dominatrix.”

Bartender: “…”

Me: “I just spent all evening spanking people and calling them really nasty names.”

Bartender: “Okay… you got me there.”

There Is Mushroom For Improvement

| UK | Working | November 1, 2016

(I am 15 and work in a pub as a waitress on weekends. The pub is owned by a couple; the guy works in the kitchen and the woman runs the bar and waitresses. The head chef (not the owner) is in his 40s and only got the job because the old one left and nobody else wanted it. A family has complained that something is missing from their meal.)

Me: “Hey, [Head Chef], table five is missing mushrooms with their gammon. Can I get some on a side plate or something, please?”

Head Chef: “Tell table five they need to learn to read the f****** menu.”

(I go and check the menu myself then take it up to the kitchen.)

Me: “Sorry to bother you again, but it says mushrooms in the menu.”

(I try to show him but he snatches the menu out of my hand and then throws it, narrowly missing me and hitting the wall behind me. He then starts verbally abusing me for several minutes. The guy owner is standing behind him but does nothing. I try to walk away.)

Head Chef: “Don’t walk away until I say you can, b****. Now go tell table five they aren’t getting any f****** mushrooms!”

(I go to table five and explain they won’t be getting mushrooms in politer terms. I’m nearly in tears. I then go to the woman owner who is behind the bar.)

Me: “I quit. If you want to know why ask [Head Chef] and your husband.”

(I removed my apron, burst into tears, and left. She called me the next day and apologised, but when I asked she told me the head chef wouldn’t apologise and they wouldn’t make him. I got a better part time job pretty quickly. Over the next three years they had a high turnover of waiting staff and got a reputation as a bad employer and for not providing what the menu offers. The year after I left for university the place burned down in what was widely suspected to be an insurance job and they sold the site to a chain.)

You Can Talk!

| Nottingham, England, UK | Friendly | October 7, 2016

(I call into our local pub to book a seventh birthday party in their soft play room for my eldest son. He is with me and is autistic, verbal, and highly intelligent but very wary of strangers. A group consisting of an older and younger couple are coming in as we left.)

Older Woman: *calling to my son* “Hello. Aren’t you at school today?”

(My son ignores her, looking down at the floor.)

Older Woman: “Hey, aren’t you going to say ‘hello’ to me?”

Me: “I’m sorry. He won’t answer you. Please don’t shout. You’ll upset him.”

Older Woman: “He should answer an adult.” *grabs my son by the shoulder and turns him round*

Me: “Please leave him; he’s autistic and nervous of people he doesn’t know!”

Older Woman: *now shouting* “What’s that? Why won’t you let him talk to me?! I only want to talk.”

Me: “Please. He won’t understand why you’re shouting at him.”

Older Man: *to his wife* “Bloody h***, woman. Will you leave him alone? He doesn’t understand!”

Older Woman: *to me* “Sorry.” *to the younger woman* “See, this is all your fault! If you’d only give me some grandchildren I wouldn’t get into trouble all the time!”

Not Trans-parent Enough

| CA, USA | Romantic | October 2, 2016

(I’m a male and identify as one but due to my slight frame and slightly longer than usual hair I’ve been mistaken for a girl before, from the back and side at least. However, my voice is surprisingly deep. I’m also Asian. I’m currently mixing a drink for another customer.)

Man: “Ay, baby, when do you get off tonight?” *he’s sitting a bit farther away and can only see my side*

Me: *ignores him thinking he’s talking to someone else*

Man: “Hey, come on! I asked you a question. Don’t ignore me!”

(At this point I’m done serving the first customer and, still not realizing he’s addressing me, go to organize a few things.)

Man: *moves closer to where I am and leans on the bar counter* “Come on, when do you get off? You’re Asian aren’t you? I love Asian girls. They’re so cute and obedient.”

(At this point I finally realize he’s mistaken me for a girl and turn around to address him.)

Me: “Are you talking to me? I’m not a—”

Man: *cuts me off and takes a step back* “S***! F***! YOU’RE ONE OF THEM F****** [slur]s, aren’t you!” *leans on the counter again* “You f****** disgust me, tricking men like me into f****** your kind!”

(The man then proceeded to turn around and walk away while I stared blankly after him.)

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