(I am a manager in a pub that offers a wide range of cocktails. We have a 2-for-1 offer on cocktails. An elderly couple and their adult daughter come in. They order their drinks and everything goes smoothly, until…)

Customer: “Can I have a dry martini, please?”

Me: “I can certainly make you one, but just to let you know, it is not on our cocktail menu, so it wouldn’t be a part of 2-for-1 offer. Is that okay?”

Customer: “No, no, I don’t want a cocktail, just a dry martini, please.”

Me: “All right, so just dry vermouth, then.”

Customer: “No, I do not want vermouth; I want a dry martini!”

Me: “Sorry, I’m just trying to understand whether you would like a classic cocktail that involves vermouth and gin, or a Martini-brand vermouth on its own?”

Customer: “I want a martini, but not vermouth.”

(I proceeded to explain the difference again, finally achieving success. Hopefully now the lady will know that her favourite drink is actually vermouth!)

(I’ve just started working the evening shift as wait staff on a very quiet night, while one of the young cooks has just finished. He comes up to the bar to have an after-work beer. It should be noted that all the staff get along very well and often tease each other.)

Cook: *as he sits at the bar* “I hear the service here is s***.”

Me: *without missing a beat* “Yeah, and the food’s even worse.”

(He immediately gets up and leaves.)

Bartender: *calls out after him* “Ooh, shots fired. Get back in your box!”

(It’s way after last call. I start to clean up tables and overhear this little gem between two of our last guests:)

Customer #1: “Dude! Are you as s***faced as I am?”

Customer #2: “No, what about you?”

(I am attending a very busy event at a brewery. I’m in line at the bar, behind about 25 people approximately the age of my kids. The script is exactly the same for each.)

Bartender: “ID, please.”

Customer: *hands ID over*

Bartender: “What can I get you?”

(The customer orders, gets drinks, pays, and leaves. Finally, it’s my turn.)

Me: “Hi. Can I have—”

Bartender: “I need to see your I…” *she finally looks AT me* “OH! Sorry, I don’t need… I mean, you’re old enough… I’m sorry. You’re not old-old… you’re just…”

Me: “Thirsty. I’m thirsty. Two porters, please.”

Bartender: “Sure, sorry. Just a second.”

(Another bartender brought my drinks when they were ready. I’m really not sure why she was so upset that she said I looked over 21. I mean, the full head of grey hair usually implies age.)

(I work in a bar with a coworker who is absolutely lovely, but can be quite feather-brained. Still, I wouldn’t have believed this if I hadn’t witnessed it myself! I’m sat off to the side on my break while [Coworker] is behind the bar. A customer approaches and asks for a dry white wine. I watch my coworker walk back and forth along the row of wine fridges, looking increasingly confused. Eventually she turns back to the customer.)

Coworker: “I’m so sorry; I think we’ve only got wet ones!”

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