Good Decisions Save Lives, And Money!

, , , , , | Right | January 4, 2019

(I’m at my friend’s bachelorette party, and we’ve headed out for drinks after a day at the spa. We are having a blast, dancing, and drinking. We have all our drinks on one tab. We go to pay up.)

Bartender: “All right, here’s your total. We comped the strawberry lemonades for the two designated drivers, just so you know.”

Club-Goer: *standing nearby* “Wait. They got comped drinks? Why?”

(He is horribly intoxicated, slurring his words, struggling to stay on his feet.)

Bartender: “We always comp the non-alcoholic drinks for the designated drivers to thank them for making good decisions.”

Club-Goer: “I want comped drinks! I make good decisions!”

Bartender: “I’m sure you do, but you’re not a designated driver.”

Club-Goer: “I’m driving myself!”

(As he says this, he hurtles across the floor, pulling his keys out to demonstrate and dropping them on the floor. As he struggles to regain his balance, one of the bouncers picks them up for him and sticks them in his own pocket.)

Bouncer: “Yeah, no. You’re not making that decision. We’re cutting you off and you’re taking a cab home tonight.”

(We added to their tip as a thank-you for keeping the streets safer.)

Unfiltered Story #132758

, | Unfiltered | December 14, 2018

(It’s been a quiet night at the members only bar that I was a night manager of when I was 19, I had to run three bars on my own but only one was really in use. It was a common occurrence and didn’t phase me since people were generally nice to a young woman, but this was a different experience altogether. A darts team came in and took over the bar at the far end, disturbing the rest of my customers by yelling.)

Me: *smiling* Hi fellas, I’m gonna have to ask you to be a little quieter for the rest of the people here. Hope that’s okay.

Customer: We’re not gonna do nothin’, ya dumb cow. Get us our drinks.

Me: *a little annoyed by the name calling, but the rest of my customers had left me in a good enough mood that I said nothing about it.* …Right. Your drinks will be £xx.xx please.

(I went back to the main bar after serving them, leaving the service bell if they needed me and figuring it’d be better to leave them be. It’s quiet for about half an hour before they’re yelling at me to be served again.)

Customer: Hey, b****! We’re bone f***ing dry here! Get your a** here!

Me: Sir, we don’t tolerate that language here, and I ask for a little respect.

Customer: F***ing whatever. You’re being paid to serve me. Give me the same as before, b****.

Me: *fuming at this point* £xx.xx.

(Again I leave them to serve the other two bars open, and it’s even less time before they’re trying to get my attention again.)

Customer: *whistling* Hey, b****! Come here, dog! Serve me now!

Me: No.

Customer: What did you say to me!?

Me: I said no, I’m now refusing you service. I will put up with all kinds of names but I will not be treated like a stray dog. I am closing this bar now, please step away.

Customer: You wouldn’t dare! I’m on the committee and will have you fired! You little w****!

Me: *stares at him directly and closes the bar gate in front of him, silently walking away to the other bar.*

(He tried to break down the gate only to be dragged out by my nice patrons. A week later my boss calls me into the office saying he complained about me but as the rest of the people in the bar vouched for me so I suffered no consequences. I had to leave the job a few weeks later anyway because the guy used his connections in the business committee to work the same shifts as me voluntarily just so he could threaten me without people seeing. I wasn’t risking my safety for minimum wage!)

He Cowers When You Have A Legitimate Argument

, , , , , , | Working | December 10, 2018

(Several friends and I are barhopping. We have just left the first bar and are heading to our next stop. We show the bouncer our IDs. Everyone is let into the bar, except my one friend who is 22. She and I both have Maryland driver’s licenses, but mine was from a few years earlier than hers, so it had the old design, while hers has the new one. After a minute inside the bar, I turn around and realize one of my friends is still standing outside with the bouncer. I go outside to discover that the bouncer has turned away my friend with the newer Maryland driver’s license.)

Me: “What’s the problem?”

Friend: “The bouncer said my ID was fake and won’t let me in.”

Me: “Are you serious?!”

(I grab her ID myself to make sure the holograms are correct and that nothing is wrong.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but the holograms on her ID are legit.”

Bouncer: “Yeah, well, so were the ones on the Maryland ID I confiscated last week. I asked her some follow-up questions, and she couldn’t answer them correctly.”

Me: “What did he ask you?”

Friend: “He asked me what the capital of Maryland was. It’s Annapolis, right?”

(My friend got a Maryland’s driver’s license while staying with her sister for a few weeks when she turned 21. She’s a Florida native. I, however, have lived in Maryland for my entire life, minus the past few months since I moved to Florida.)

Me: “Yes, Annapolis is the capital of Maryland. Sir, she answered the question correctly; I’ve lived in Maryland my whole life and can attest that she is correct, but I’d be happy to Google it if you’re still unsure.”

Bouncer: “Doesn’t matter. Took her too long to answer the question. This is my job. Her ID isn’t legit, anyway. She’s not getting in.”

Me: “Let me direct your attention to the wristbands we’re both wearing from the last bar we just came from.”

Bouncer: “That’s great. She’s still not getting in.”

Me: “All right, let’s just clear this up once and for all; can you scan her ID?”

Bouncer: “I have no way of scanning it.”

Me: “Then, technically, you have no way of proving that her license isn’t legit.”

Bouncer: “That isn’t my problem.”

Me: “You know what, we aren’t doing anything wrong. Let me make this easy: I’ll call the police and ask that they send out an officer who can scan her ID to let you know if it’s legitimate. Once that’s proved, you can let her in.”

(I am trying to be helpful, not threatening. But at this point, the bouncer gets a little too close to me and seems angry at my suggestion.)

Me: “Look. I get that your job is to turn away people with fake IDs. If we were a bunch of kids who got caught with a fake, we’d run away. We’d be too scared of our parents finding out or the police getting involved. I offered to call the police myself to fix this situation. Why would I do that if her ID was fake?”

Bouncer: “I don’t know. It isn’t my job to know. It’s my job to check IDs.”

Me: “I can’t help but notice your accent. You’re clearly from the UK, so I can understand your confusion over the laws and capitals of states over here in the US. But you are wrong in this situation. My friend is 22 years old. Her Maryland license is legitimate. The capital of Maryland is Annapolis. You have not been open to reason in any shape or form, so I’m going to go inside, grab all six of my friends who are waiting for us to order drinks, inform the hostess inside that you’re turning away legitimate IDs, and take my friends elsewhere. But I’m going to make d*** sure that the employees inside know that their bouncer is turning away legal-aged customers, who were eager to spend a bunch of money in this establishment.”

(I then turned and walked back into the bar. I marched up to the hostess station and informed her of the situation. She was understandably frazzled, so I told her to let her manager know or to inform her supervisor. As I was talking to the hostess, my friend came up behind me and informed me that she’d gotten in. She claimed that she snuck past the bouncer. But I have a feeling he turned his back long enough to let her go by, without apologizing, to try to get me to stop getting him in trouble. I later contacted the management company that owned that bar. I included an entire transcript of the conversation, the fact that my friends ended up buying around forty shots and ten drinks during our time there — money that would have been spent elsewhere — the conversation I had with the hostess, and information to contact me with any questions. I also included how the bouncer admitted to having confiscated an ID. I looked it up the next day; it is ILLEGAL for a civilian to confiscate an ID, whether it is legit or fake. I made sure to inform the person I spoke to about that. Only a police officer can confiscate any form of ID in the US. Someone reached out to me within two hours of my email with follow-up questions and promises to investigate. I don’t know what happened to that bouncer, but I hope that serious actions were taken.)

I Prefer A Rocky Road Highball Myself

, , , , , , | Right | December 9, 2018

(I am the idiot customer in this story. The legal drinking age in Canada is nineteen, so it is quite common to have a fake ID when younger in order to get into bars and clubs. I am fifteen and have just gotten my first fake ID, and my friends and I are going to our first ever bar to celebrate. The sign at the bar reads, “Highballs on special $5.00.” Now, being fifteen, I have no idea what a highball is, and I assume it is the name of a specific cocktail or something like that.)

Me: “I’ll have one highball, please!”

(The large, burly, bartender looks at me suspiciously.)

Bartender: “Okay… Which one?”

Me: “Just… just one highball. The highball?”

Bartender: “Yes, and which highball, exactly, do you want?”

Me: *becoming totally flustered and trying to read the sign again for the name of a specific highball* “The sign says highballs are on special! I… I want that… from the sign! The… normal highball!”

Bartender: *clearly exasperated* “Miss, you can’t just walk in and order ‘a highball.’ That’s like walking into an ice cream shop and ordering ‘an ice cream.’ There’s vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, mint—”

Me: *completely flushed now, embarrassed, and terrified that I will be thrown out of the bar any minute now, in a shrill voice* “VANILLA, THEN! I’LL TAKE A VANILLA HIGHBALL!”

You Booze, You Lose

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 27, 2018

(My friends and I have decided to spend our Saturday night at our favourite bar. Because I’m the designated driver, I’m sticking to a soda. I’ve left my half-finished drink on my table to go dancing. I figure that it’ll be safe, because one of my friends is staying at the table. When I get back, my glass is completely empty.)

Me: “What the h***? What happened to my soda?”

Friend: *grinning* “You know that creepy guy that’s always hanging around, waiting for other people to leave their drinks unattended so that he can finish them?”

Me: “You mean he drank my soda?”

Friend: “Yup.”

Me: “Why didn’t you stop him?”

Friend: “Because he was obviously hoping that it was alcoholic. He looked really peeved that it was only soda.”

Me: “Well, that’s great and all, but now I’m drinkless.”

Friend: “I’ll buy you another one. It was worth it just to see his face.”

(I don’t know if the creepy guy changed his ways after that, but he never tried to steal one of my drinks again, anyway.)

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