This Story Will Haunt You Forever

, , , , | Related | June 6, 2017

(One year while my husband’s younger brother (who is a big guy in his 30s) is down visiting us in Florida, he expresses an interest in going to the Halloween event at a big theme park. Leading up to it, he jeers and laughs and rolls his eyes at how corny all the advertising is, and brags about how he’s not scared of anything. We all get along very well and like to joke with and tease one another in a friendly way. I can’t help but notice as we walk up to the first haunted house of the event that he seems a little less braggy that evening. He’s right behind me in line, and, sure enough, he has my shoulders in a death-grip the entire time. This repeats through every house for the night. He never makes a sound, but I can feel him flinching and jumping, even though whenever we come out of a house, he rolls his eyes and laughs at it. The next day, we’re at the hotel bar on resort property and he’s flirting with a woman who seems pretty into him.)

Woman: “So did you go to the Halloween event last night?”

Brother-In-Law: “Yeah. It was fun, but it wasn’t even scary.”

Husband: “You seemed pretty freaked out to me, dude.”

Brother-In-Law: *scoff* “How would you know? I was behind [My Name] all night. I was fine.”

(Wordlessly, I roll up the sleeves of my t-shirt to show my shoulders… where each one has five matching, tiny, fingertip bruises from where he was clinging to me.)

Me: “These are not the marks of a fearless man, sweetheart.”

(He blushed red right up to his hairline, and we all shared a good-natured laugh. I guess the woman he was flirting with thought that was cute, too, so he still got her number. Hopefully she can protect him from all those ghosties and zombies out there!)

Desperado To Make A Scene

, , , , , | Right | June 5, 2017

(It’s a really busy Saturday evening shift in my bar and I am ten-hours deep into a twelve-hour shift. A group of women arrive at the bar and my colleague begins to serve them. It’s her first shift so I keep half an eye on her, even though I am busy dealing with my own customers. I notice the women muttering amongst themselves and giving dirty looks to my colleague as she is ringing their order through the till. I finish up with my own customers and approach them.)

Me: “Hello! Can I help you at all?”

Customer #1: “I’ve been served THIS and I asked for a Desperados and a lime and soda. She’s put it all in the same glass.”

Me: “Oh, I’m really sorry about that madam; I’ll get new drinks for you right away.”

(I serve her the drinks and as my colleague realises her mistake we all laugh about it together. Everything seems rectified. Then, a second woman comes forward and slams down the Desperados I have dispensed into a plastic glass for her, as is our company’s policy after 10 pm.)

Customer #2: “What the f*** is this?”

Me: “It’s a Desperados.”

Customer #2: “Well, I want the bottle.”

Me: “Unfortunately it’s our policy that we don’t serve glass after 10 pm. We have to dispense all the bottles into—”

Customer #2: “Well, she could have f***ing told me!”

Me: “I understand. It’s my colleague’s first shift and I will ask her to remind customers of our policy in future. Can I get you another—”

Customer #2: “I never saw her pour it, so how do I even know it’s a Desperados?”

Me: “Well, you weren’t at the bar, so no, I expect you didn’t.”

Customer #2: “Listen, your mate—” *pointing in my face* “—served my friend the wrong drink and now this!”

(I’ve lost my rag now.)

Me: “Look, if you’re that bothered, I’ll pour you a new one.”

(I pour her a Desperados, making a huge show of showing her the label, and gesturing grandly as I set the drink down.)

Me: “Would you like a lime, madam?”

(These customers have obviously never been spoken to sarcastically by someone serving them, and their mouths drop. Customer #2 leans over the bar towards me.)

Customer #2: “How dare you not show me any respect! You need to learn some customer service skills!”

Me: “Respect is a two way street, and nice people get nice service. Have a lovely night.”

(They complained and wrote a s***ty review on Facebook; however, I’d already explained to the manager what a***-holes they were and he reviewed the CCTV which showed their intimidating and threatening body language towards me. We ‘liked’ the review, and commented, “Thank you for your review. We would like to remind you and all of our customers that our staff are human beings and deserve to be spoken to as such. Therefore, you are no longer welcome in our bar.”)

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The Mad Chatter

| Groningen, The Netherlands | Working | June 2, 2017

(I’m the idiot in this story. I’ve traveled to a handful of countries before and now I’ve gotten into a particular habit when interacting with local shopkeepers, which doesn’t really work well when interacting with the Dutch who are better English speakers than most of the people I go to university with, and who really dislike dithering:)

Me: “Hi! Oh, wait, I know the Dutch. Wait…”

Barkeeper: “Umm—”

Me: *interrupts* “Oh, now I remember, it’s just hai and it sounds exactly the same.”

Barkeeper: “Yep. What can I get for you?”

Me: “Oh, I’m not really sure what I want. What do you think is the most Dutch-like drink to get?”

Barkeeper: “Well, the Dutch always drink beer, so I guess that?”

Me: “Do I want a beer? I don’t really like beer. I don’t normally drink it. It tastes too bitter.”

Barkeeper: “You can just buy a soda; we have Coke drinks.”

Me: “No, no, soda is too American. Well, I guess I’ll get a beer, even though I don’t like it.”

Barkeeper: “You can buy a randler; it’s a beer and juice mixture.”

Me: “A randler! I’ve never heard of that before! Okay, I’ll buy one of those. How much is it?”

Barkeeper: “1,35.”

Me: *hands him 1,40 because I don’t have the right coins*

Barkeeper: *sighs and gives me change*

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I guess normally people give you exact change because they already know what drink they’ll buy and how much it costs.”

Barkeeper: “They also don’t take time to chat, but I know Americans can’t help but do it.”

(In other countries I’ve visited, trying to say a word in the local language and asking the store person for a recommendation opens up a friendly conversation, so I felt bad to realize I had just been an irritating customer by accident!)

Responsibility With A Cherry On Top

, , | Hopeless | May 22, 2017

(A group of my girl friends and I go to a bar to have a Girls’ Night and see another friend’s band play. I volunteer to be designated driver since I’m not a big drinker. We head up to the bar and my friends all order their drinks and move out of the way. Then it’s my turn.)

Bartender: “And what can I get you?”

Me: “Can I get a Coke, please?”

Bartender: *pausing, surprised* “Just a Coke? Nothing in it, no rum or anything?”

Me: *laughing a little* “Well, maybe some grenadine if you have it. I’m driving tonight.”

Bartender: “OH! OK, coming right up!”

(He makes my cherry Coke [or Roy Rogers, if you want to get technical], puts a ton of maraschino cherries in it, and slides me the glass.)

Me: “Thanks!” *I open my wallet, but the bartender smiles and shakes his head*

Bartender: “Nah, I don’t charge people who drink responsibly.”

Me: *surprised* “Wow, thank you!”

(I dropped a $5 tip on the bar anyway. It pays to be responsible!)

MMAY Hero!

| OR, USA | Friendly | May 4, 2017

(I’m a regular at a bar and know the bartenders well. One of them is a very attractive woman. She’s been complaining about a creepy guy who keeps coming in and hitting on her. He always ends up being shooed out of the way by other customers that actually want service, but he keeps coming back. I happen to be there on the last night he comes in.)

Guy: “Hey, sweetie! Miss me?”

Bartender: “What do you want to drink tonight?”

Guy: “Are you on the menu? Haha!”

Bartender: “No.”

(I start to stand to go over to her, if only to be a distraction because he’s much bigger than I am. Before I can get to the bar, though, another woman who looks like an Amazonian warrior steps up to it.)

Woman: *leans toward Guy* “If you don’t leave this young lady alone, I’m going to cut off your balls and make you eat them.”

Guy: “Hey!”

Woman: *almost yelling* “LEAVE.”

(The rest of the bar turned to look, and he left without another word, looking embarrassed. Both the bartender and I bought her drinks and found out that she was in town for an MMA tournament. She was very nice and visited the bar a few more times to make sure the creep stayed away. He did.)

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