I studied abroad in my junior year of college, and a group of us decided to take a bus tour during spring break through several countries in Europe. The days were jam-packed, and we stumbled into our hotel room rather late one evening.

The lobby included a check-in desk, a seating area, and a small bar. The receptionist informed us that there was no bartender on staff this time of night, but she could serve us beer or wine if we wanted it. Our tour guide checked us in while the rest of us waited and talked. We all wanted to have a drink before turning in, and as we discussed the menu on display it, became apparent that I was the only one planning to order wine; everyone else wanted beer.

The receptionist finished at the desk and came around the bar. She looked at me first.

Receptionist: “What would you like?”

Me: “I’ll have a Riesling, please.”

Receptionist: “Of course.”

She poured me a glass — and by that, I mean that she poured me a FULL glass, at least two standard servings of wine, maybe two and a half.

Receptionist: “Why do people only pour half a glass of wine? I never understand it.”

Suddenly, all of my classmates also decided they were in the mood for wine. The receptionist continued to have a very generous pour, and she chatted with us for a while until we went up to our rooms.

I agreed to bartend for a special event: a fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was a dinner, an open bar, and dancing with a DJ. We agreed to $250 per bartender for five or six hours of work, including prep and cleanup.

At the venue, there was a tip jar already on the bar top, which we decided to use. From experience, even at open bar events, guests like to leave tips for their bartender(s). Throughout the night, guests frequently left gratuities, often indicating they were for crafting their cocktails.

When the party began to wind down, the other bartender and I began breaking the bar down and cleaning up. We even helped clear tables and put away chairs.

At one point, we were both in the kitchen cleaning our supplies, and we left the bar unattended for maybe five minutes. When we came out to count our tips, we discovered that the jar was missing!

I went to ask the party coordinator about the missing jar and met her coming out of the supply room.

Coordinator: “Oh, I just counted the tips! I’ve divided them three ways between the two of you and the DJ.”

I was given $70; the other bartender got $60. We talked to the DJ the next day and he said he received $90 “in a wad of fives”.

I texted the coordinator telling her it was extremely inappropriate to take, count, or distribute bar tips without the consent of the bartenders. At first, she was apologetic and thanked us for all the extra help we gave. She gave us $80 via a mobile app to “make it up”. I said thanks and figured it was over.

Then, she began to text me telling me it was “their tip jar they provided and, therefore, the tips were theirs to do what they wanted with”. She called me petty and greedy, and she said she and her partner had talked to multiple bartenders who had defended their actions. 

I just blocked the coordinator and her partner, after having them send me essay-length texts explaining how unhappy they were with my attitude and that they “didn’t have to tip us in the first place”.

Customer: “Hey, can I get a Jack Daniels straight up on the rocks?”

Me: “Do you want it straight up or on the rocks?”

Customer: “Straight up… on the rocks.”

Me: “Do you want it with or without ice?”

Customer: “Without.”

Me: “Okay, so, ‘on the rocks’ means with ice, and ‘straight up’ means no ice.”

Customer: “Oh. I want it straight up… on the rocks.”

Years ago, I had a gentleman in his mid-forties come into my bar and sit at the bar rail. He wasn’t too concerned about drinking and asked for a food menu right away. He ended up going with a special we had at the time.

Customer: “I’ll have that salad you guys are running this week. That sounds really good. Could I get that with no dairy?”

Me: “Sure! I don’t think there’s any dairy in the dressing or anything, but I’ll be sure to let the kitchen know to hold any dairy just to be safe.”

The salad came out, and the customer immediately called for me from across the bar. 

Customer: “I told you I didn’t want any dairy in this. Can you have the kitchen remake it?”

I looked over his salad.

Me: “Yeah, I’m happy to. Did they put cheese on it or something and I’m just not seeing it?”

The customer held up a forkful of his salad and pointed to it.

Customer: “No, genius. Not cheese. This! This is the problem!”

Me: “…the egg?”

Customer: “Duh!”

Me: “Eggs aren’t a dairy product.”

Customer: “Well, you get it in the dairy section at the store, don’t you? What would you call it?”

Me: “An egg. Dairy means it’s made from milk.”

Customer: “No, dairy means you buy it in the dairy section.”

Me: “So, you want it with no dairy and no egg? That’s no problem; I can have them remake it for you.”

Customer: “No. I want it with no dairy. And that means no egg.”

Me: “I’m really not trying to be rude; I’m just telling you to make your life easier. In the future, if you ask for no dairy somewhere, they won’t take the egg out of whatever you’re eating.”

Customer: “We’ll see about that.”

I have no doubt that the next time this guy walked past the dairy section of a grocery store, he nodded to himself in mistaken confirmation that he was right all along as he saw the eggs next to the milk.

I’m at a bar, sitting at a lonely end of the counter with my drink. Several seats down, two women are having a quiet conversation when I see a very large man approach them.

Man: “Hey, lady, let me buy you a drink.”

Woman #1: *Without facing him* “No, thank you. I’m married.”

Man: “I don’t give a s***.”

I promptly start choking on what I REALLY hope is one drink too many. [Woman #1] glances at [Man] in confusion, turns to [Woman #2] beside her, and then looks back at [Man] again.

Woman #1: “I’m sorry, I couldn’t possibly have heard you right.”

Man: “I said I don’t give a f*** if you’re married. I’m buying you a drink.”

Woman #1: “No, you’re not.”

Man: “And who’s gonna stop me, huh?”

Woman #2: “That would be me.”

Man: “Who the h*** are you?”

Woman #2: “I’m her wife.”

Man: “Tough s***. Get out of here.”

The bartender promptly signalled for a bouncer. [Man] was dragged away as he continued to insist that he was going to buy [Woman #1] a drink no matter what anyone said.

Related:
No Means No, Even When You’re Three
No Means No (And No Beer)
No Means No Means No Means No Means…