He Is Not The Jaeger Meister

| Hampshire, England, UK | Right | January 21, 2017

(It’s late Friday night and there are the usual slightly drunk middle-aged men we normally get in the bar.)

Man: “Excuse me, love, can I have a Sambuca?”

Me: “Yes, which flavour would you like?”

Man: “What have you got?”

Me: *goes through all the flavours*

Man: “Just the normal one.”

Me: *sighs* “Okay.”

(I pour a shot of Sambuca and put it in front of him. He stares at it for a few seconds.)

Man: “That’s not what I wanted.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Man: “That’s not what I wanted. That’s not Jaeger.”

Me: “You wanted Jaeger?”

Man: “Yeah.”

Me: “But asked for Sambuca?”

Man: “Yeah.”

Me: “…”

(I gave up arguing with him cause it was pointless. He eventually paid for a the shot of Sambuca but still seemed pissed off at me for pouring him the “wrong drink”!)

Sitting On A Protein-Powder Keg

| FL, USA | Friendly | January 20, 2017

(One of my husband’s and my friends is a bartender at a place we’ve been going to for years. He’s one of those guys who looks huge and intimidating given how muscular he is, but is basically a big, friendly, sweet dork. He works out at the gym constantly. Recently, however, he’s been having some medical problems.)

Friend: “So you remember how I told you I was having all those weird pains.”

Me: “Yeah, what happened?”

Friend: “Well, I went to this once specialist and he said it was probably scar tissue and I was stuck with it, and would just have to stop working out so much.”

Husband: “Well, that sucks, but you have to do what’s best for you.”

Friend: “No, that’s the thing! So I was listening to him, but I wasn’t getting any better.” *mixing up something in his personal coffee tumbler as he’s talking* “So I went through these three other doctors, and they all told me something different! But FINALLY I get referred to this one lady, and she runs some tests, and it turns out I’m allergic to my protein powder! And I cut it out, and she was right… I just have to stop drinking that, and I have no pain at all!”

Me: “Oh, well, that’s good.” *watching him begin to stir a familiar powder into his mug* “So… uh… whatcha mixing up there, [Friend]?”

Friend: *looks at mug, looks at me, puts mug behind his back, and grins guiltily* “… nothin’.”

(Buddy, I love you, but sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive.)

Common Sense Playing Truant: The Revenge

| OH, USA | Right | January 16, 2017

(I’m the worker in this story, where I was accused of being a teenager and illegally working in a bar during the school day It’s been a few years since that happened, I’ve now graduated college, gotten a job out of state, and am in a bar catching up with high school friends. A seemingly random woman storms up to our table.)

Crazy Woman: “YOU! You got me banned from my favorite store over your lies. And I see you’re still up to your dirty tricks, using a fake ID to drink.”

(I just stare at her in confusion for a minute before it all comes back to me that this was the SAME WOMAN who accused me four years ago. Consequences of being from a small town with exactly two bars, I guess.)

Me: “This can’t even be happening. Ma’am, I’m still about six years older than you think I am, and I was of legal drinking age the last time you ranted at me. Do these people with me appear to be old enough to drink?”

Crazy Woman: “Well, of course they do. I even know her mother!” *pointing to one of my friends* “I bet you think you’re really cool hanging out with people so much older than you and using a fake ID to drink with them when you’re barely out of high school.”

Me: “I graduated from high school with these ladies. Seven years ago. I was 18 when that happened. Can you do the math on how old that makes me?”

(My friends snicker, but confirm that we graduated high school together.)

Crazy Woman: “We’ll just see about that!”

(She goes and tells the bartender that she knows my parents or something to that effect, and knows that I am underage. Having provided an out-of-state license when we bought our drinks, the bartender comes up to our table with a bouncer in tow, slightly alarmed that she may have served a minor.)

Bartender: “I know you showed me your ID, but I now have reason to believe it’s fake. I have to call the police. Please give me your ID.”

Me: “Look, that crazy woman went off on me a few years back when she thought I was much younger than I am. Can I try to clear this up?”

Bartender: “I don’t know how you could clear this up without the police running your ID to confirm it’s valid.”

Me: “I do.” *digs through my purse* “Here, does this help?”

Bartender: “Yes. Yes, it does.” *turns to the bouncer* “Tell that woman that she has to leave her alone or leave.”

(The crazy woman refused to comply with their request to leave me alone, and was kicked out. Me: 2, Crazy: 0. How did I do it? One of the reasons I was visiting was that I had to get an official birth certificate to apply for a passport, had done that several weeks before, and had submitted my passport application at the local Post Office after getting the birth certificate, out of convenience. I had my shiny, new passport and official, sealed birth certificate in my purse, having just received them both back. My friend told her mom about the incident, and her response was, apparently, “that woman has always been insane.”)

 

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An Introduction Destruction

| USA | Romantic | January 10, 2017

(My sister and I are walking down the street, when we spot a bar. Everyone there is casually dressed, including me, in pants and a shirt except for my sister, who’s dressed in an evening gown and is made up and looks like an actress. She attracts the attention of a middle aged man, who makes a beeline to her.)

Man: *to sister* “Hello. I saw you enter and I felt I had to introduce myself. My name is [Man].”

(He takes my sister’s hand and kisses it. My sister is very outgoing, so she is charmed by his nerve.)

Sister: “Oh hello. My name is [Sister] and this is my sister [My Name].”

(She gestures over to me.)

Me: “Hello.”

Man: *looks me over, wrinkles nose with disgust, and quickly looks back to my sister* “Why don’t we go sit somewhere private? Just the two of us.” *gestures to himself and my sister*

Us: *stunned*

(Needless to say, he was rejected and we went to drink by ourselves. Men, a tip: if you’re trying to score with a woman, at least pretend to be polite to her friends!)

We’re Not Buds

| NE, USA | Right | January 7, 2017

Customer: “Gah! Why am I drinking this? Why did I order Bud Light? I hate Bud Light! Will you get rid of this and get me a Busch Light instead?”

Me: “Sure.”

(I take her half full bottle of Bud Light and dump it out and get her a Busch Light.)

Customer: “GAH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

Me: “You asked me to get you a Busch Light.”

Customer: “No! You dumped out the Bud Light!”

Me: “You said you didn’t want it.”

Customer: “But you didn’t have to dump it out!”

Me: “What else am I supposed to do with it?”

Customer: “But that’s wasting it!”

Me: “BUT YOU DIDN’T WANT IT! What else was I supposed to do with it?”

Customer: “Well, YOU could’ve drank it! Why didn’t YOU drink it?”

Me: “I think you need to leave.”

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