Refuse To Mead You In The Middle

, , , , , | Right | November 27, 2018

(Every year the pub I work at releases a special mead that causes a line going on for blocks at a time. The stuff is pretty potent, sitting at 10.5% alcohol, so people get thrashed fairly quickly on the stuff. Over the years, the owners have learned to cut people off after two half-pints, otherwise the bathrooms are covered in pink vomit every evening. A gentleman who has had his two half-pints approaches my two coworkers and me as we’re selling the off-sale bottles.)

Customer: *a little slurred* “Can I get mead here?”

Coworker #1: “Of course! If you come over to me I can ring through your receipt and—”

Customer: “Because they cut me off out there!”

(My coworkers and I stand there in awkward silence as he reaches out to grab a six pack.)

Me: “Oh, if you go see [Coworker #1], she can get you your receipt, and you can then take your mead!”

Customer: *stands there and gives me this hateful look of drunken rage*

Coworker #1: “Sir, if you come over here I can get you your receipt!”

(The customer slowly lets go of the six pack and stumbles over to the cash register, catching himself on the counter.)

Me: *whispering to [Coworker #2]* “Dude, I don’t like that he has car keys in his hand. He’s in no condition to drive whatsoever.”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, that’s an accident waiting to happen.”

Customer: *while slurring badly* “I remember when we could drink as much mead as we wanted! I’d have a full pitcher of it!”

Coworker #1: “Well, we don’t do that anymore because sometimes people get a little bit crazy after too much to drink.”

(The customer takes his receipt and continues to yap about “the good days of bingeing” while grabbing his six pack and heading for the door. Luckily, as he is leaving, his son comes in and takes the six pack while carrying him out of the pub.)

Me: “Thank God somebody came to pick him up. The keys in his hands were making me nervous.”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, I was about to offer to call him a cab before he got somebody killed.”

Unfiltered Story #127560

, , | Unfiltered | November 21, 2018

(This is something that’s happened with my Auto Tech Teacher when he owned a bar. He was bartending, when he noticed this happening. A young Girl was sitting at a table when a Guy just DRAGS her out of her chair and forces her to dance with him. She tries not to, but gives in. The Guy stops dancing with her to go play pool. The Girl sits back in her chair. Few minutes later, the SAME Guy does the same thing to her, her face showing she’s obviously uncomfortable. My Teacher walks up to her after he leaves her.)

Teacher: Ma’am, you alright?

Girl: Yeah, fine.

Teacher: You sure?

Girl: Yeah, well, no. I just don’t want to cause a scene.

Teacher: Ma’am as the owner of this bar, you’re under my care, so I’ll see to it that he doesn’t do that again.

(My Teacher goes to the pool table the Guy is at. He is directly across from him.)

Teacher: Sir, you know that girl you were dancing with?

Guy: Yeah?

Teacher: Well she’s VERY uncomfortable, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop.

Guy: (Angry) Well, I can dance with whoever the hell I want!

Teacher: I’m gonna have to ask you to leave then.

(My Teacher turns around to go back to the bar, figuring it was all over. Then, he gets a bad feeling and turns around to see the Guy, frozen, already halfway across the pool table, pool cue (stick) raised up high, ready to smack him.)

Teacher: Son, you seriously can’t be that stupid.

(The Guy leaves with his head down and the Girl thanked him for it.)

Beer With Me For A Moment

, , , , , , | Working | November 15, 2018

(In early 1994, I am invited over to the States from the UK by an American music software house, as a demonstrator for their flagship software program at a major trade show in California. Whilst at the show, one of their lead sales managers, knowing of my liking for beer, invites me out along with several other folks from the company for an evening at a local bar. This bar is apparently known for having something like 114 different beers from around the world. Anxious to introduce my friends to the peculiar delights of British beer, I peruse the section dedicated to my home country, at which point the alarm bells go off. There are three beers on offer: a low-alcohol brew borne out of the privations of World War II which hasn’t been brewed for UK consumption since 1976, though still brewed for export at that time, a favourite of Clint Eastwood, but only ever available in bottles, never on tap, and a strong cask ale known for its knee-trembler abilities when consumed to excess. I therefore order a jug of the final nectar for our drinking pleasure, which is duly delivered… at which point I feel the need to complain to the barman.)

Me: *after taking a sip* “This isn’t [Brand]!”

Barman: “Yes, it is, sir.”

Me: *deploying my best upper-class English accent* “Au contraire, dear boy! For your information, I was born 100 yards from their brewery in Chiswick, London. I was raised drinking this, my local brew, and can categorically assure you that this is not [Brand]!”

Barman: “What makes you think that?”

Me: “Well, for a start, you’re obviously serving it from a gas-pumped barrel; [Brand] is only ever served from a tap-and-vent barrel, hand-pumped via a long swan neck. Secondly, the colour is entirely wrong, and thirdly — and most importantly — it tastes nothing like [Brand]. I have no idea what you call it here, but in my country we have a little something called the Trades Descriptions Act, which makes it illegal to pass off a product as something else.”

Barman: “…”

Me: “Get me your manager.”

(The manager ended up giving us free drinks for the rest of the night which, despite this hiccup, proved highly entertaining for all concerned, and a prime example of American hospitality. I note with considerable pleasure that in the intervening years, America has embraced the production of craft ale/real ale and is now making some seriously excellent beers.)

Unfiltered Story #124807

, | Unfiltered | November 6, 2018

So a guy comes into the bar buys a pint and goes to play on the fruit machine. He comes back to the bar and asks for a packet of crisps, he pays with a £10.
I give him his change of £9.20, he then says
“actually i have the £1 coin so i don’t need to break into the note” give me the £1 coin and demands i take his £10 note out of the till
(he has the £9.20 change and put this into his pocket while shoving the £1 coin into my hand demanding his £10 note)
at this point i’m confused and say “well give me the change back and i will get the £10 note back for you”
he then starts shouting about me scamming him and he is late for his bus (at this point i get he is trying to scam me but doing a really bad job)
I tell him he has the £9.20 change i just gave him in his pocket if he wants his £10 note back he needs to give me back the change that i gave to him, he starts shouting again about the police and how i’m a low life and leaves the bar, my other customers are just looking at me (the guy really went off on one) i’m a little in shock but laugh it off, the guy storms back in throws the packet of crisps at me still threatening the police and storms back out.
Guy tried to scam me but I ended up 80p up as I had my crisps back

We Don’t Serve Euro Trash

, , , , , | Right | October 29, 2018

(I work in a city centre bar, and this takes places on a busy Saturday night. Three Irish guys have ordered a round, and all the card machines stop working whilst one of them is trying to pay.)

Me: “I’m really sorry, but none of the card machines are working. Have you got any cash to pay with?”

(All of them shake their heads no.)

Customer #1: “So there’s something wrong with my card?”

Me: “No, it’s something on our end. None of the machines are working at the moment. Sorry. Let me just go grab my manager to see what I should do.”

(I run into the back to speak to my manager, who tells me to let them have the drinks for free because the fault is on our end. I go tell them this, and carry on serving other people. A few minutes later they attract my attention.)

Customer #2: “Hi, can we have three gin and tonics, please?”

Me: *slightly confused* “Our card machines still aren’t working, sorry, so, if you haven’t got any cash…”

Customer #2: ”I’ve got cash.”

Me: *more confused* “You’ve got cash?”

Customer #2: “Yeah.”

Customer #3: “Why don’t you believe him?”

(In my head: because you said none of you had cash fifteen minutes ago.)

Me: “Oh, I just have to check because the card machines are down. So that’s three double gin and tonics, yeah?”

(I make their drinks, give them to them, then ring it up on the till.)

Me: “That’ll be [amount], please.”

([Customer #2] hands me a note, and when I look I see that it’s a Euro note — currency used in Southern Ireland and some other countries in Europe, but not in the UK. Thinking it’s a genuine mistake I go to give it back to them.)

Me: “Sorry, it looks like you’ve accidentally given me Euros.”

Customer #2: “So?”

Me: “Well, we can’t accept Euros as a method of payment.”

Customer #2: “Yes, you can. You have to.”

Me: “Sorry, but I don’t. We can’t accept Euros.”

Customer #2: “Yeah, but we’re Irish.”

Me: *speechless for a second* “But we’re not. We cannot accept Euros. You need to pay me in pounds.”

Customer #2: “But we’re Irish!”

Me: “That doesn’t make any difference. We can’t accept Euros.”

Customer #2: “But this is the only cash I’ve got!”

(I stare at them for a second, and then ask for their drinks back since they can’t pay for them. The worst part was that they seemed genuinely confused that I couldn’t accept foreign currency. I went in the back and sat down for five minutes after that.)

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