Security: “ID, please.”
Me: *I give the guy my ID*
Security: *slaps an intercom button* “Security, all hands up front.”
Me: *about to s*** my pants* “What? What?! Wha—”
(Five big guys show up at a run.)
Security: “Everybody! This is what a Montana ID looks like.”
(I’ve been a qualified sommelier for about 10 years and have been working in hospitality for 20. I’m visiting my family in New Zealand and decide to pop into a well regarded new wine bar one evening before dinner. I’m sitting at the bar, looking at the list.)
Me: “I’ve never seen [Very Rare Wine] on a wine list before! I was under the impression there were only three bottles left in the world and they were all privately owned.”
Bartender: *whispering* “Don’t get it!”
Me: “Uh…sorry?”
Bartender: *whispering* “Don’t bother mate. It’s not real.”
(I can’t work out why he’s whispering because I’m the only one inside.)
Me: “What do you mean it’s not real?”
Bartender: “The owner, she thinks it looks good to have something like that on the menu. So she just got labels made to put over other bottles of wine. Now I have to put up with people asking how we got our hands on a whole case of them! What am I supposed to say, huh? And she actually expects me to sell them. Like no one will notice it’s a $10 bottle of plonk!”
(The ‘relabeled’ wine is in the thousands. I stick to a nice local red and when I’m leaving I hand him my card.)
Me: “If you’re ever moving to Australia and need a job give me a call. Frankness and honesty are quite rare and you seem to have both qualities.”
Bartender: “Wow, I’m so glad I told you. Sometimes I can’t be bothered, deterring customers. Have a good evening!”
(He now works for me in Melbourne.)
(I’m playing designated-driver for the night during a night out with and ex and his new girlfriend. My ex and I are still friendly but we don’t hang out or talk regularly. I’m hesitant to go as my ex turns into an a** when drunk but I end up going with them after he’s sworn up and down he’s changed and just wants to catch up. Not surprisingly, he gets thoroughly tanked.)
Ex: *leaning over to me whispering horridly* “Hey, you see that girl there? She’s my ex and she still totally wants it.”
Ex’s Girlfriend: *nervously* “Wrong shoulder, sweetheart.”
Ex: “It’s totally pathetic that she hasn’t gotten over me. She wasn’t even good in bed.
(His girlfriend gives me a sympathetic look and starts to make the excuse that ‘he’s drunk’ but I stop her.)
Me: “No, stop. You know what’s really pathetic? The fact that he hasn’t changed a bit. I left him because he was a f****** drunk. I agreed to this outing because he swore up and down he’s changed and that it wouldn’t be awkward. We broke up five years ago and I haven’t regretted it a single second of my life.”
Ex: *to his girlfriend* “She’s such a b****. That’s why I left her. That and because—” *yelling now* “—she sucks in the sack!”
Ex’s Girlfriend: “This is so dumb. If she’s so pathetic then why are you the one talking about it? I’ve had enough. I’m done with you!”
Ex: *shouting* “Yeah, well, f*** you, too! You’re the worst lay ever!”
(The bartender came over and had our ex kicked out of the bar. Then he paid for our taxi home after deciding that we deserved a good stiff drink for having had to deal with an a** for however long we dated him.)
Me: “Hello! How are you? What can I get you?”
Customer: “Hey! Can I get a margarita?”
Me: “Sure, would you like that dressed?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “Awesome! Would you like salt or sugar?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “…Umm. Which one?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “…I got that. But with what?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “Right… So, I don’t think you’re listening to me… Salt. Or sugar. Or even maybe both. Which option?”
Customer: “Yes.”
(I go get the salt and sugar shakers.)
Me: “Okay. Salt-” *I wave the salt shaker* “-or sugar?” *I wave the sugar shaker* “Or perhaps both?” *I wave them both*
Customer: “Yes! Yes!”
Me: “Yes to what?!”
Customer: “I said yes already! Yes!”
Me: “Right… That’ll be $7.”
(I did both. She never came back to complain, to my knowledge, so I suppose I guessed correctly?)
This story is part of our Margarita roundup!
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(We’re at the pub after work, unwinding from a stressful week.)
Coworker: “It is so annoying. Most of my friends are married, having a family, and there is nobody available to have a good time or hang around with.”
Me: “How old are you?”
Coworker: “32.”
Me: *in a very matter of fact way* “Oh, that’s all right, then. Another five to ten years and the majority is divorced and available again.”
(Everyone stares at me.)
Manager: “That is cynical.”
Me: “Maybe, but true. Just wait and see…”
