I used to be an assistant manager in a nightclub. I mostly managed the bookings, hostesses, table packages, etc.

One night, one of my girls accidentally smashed a glass while clearing a table, so I ran over with a dustpan and brush to clear it as quickly as possible while she continued clearing the table. It’s obviously quite hard to see in a dark nightclub with lights flashing around, and I was on my hands and knees trying to sweep up as much of the glass I could find.

One belligerently drunk guy was stood next to me going:

Customer: “You missed a spot… You missed a spot… You missed another spot…”

It was three am and I was knackered and had had enough.

Me: “Will you shut up and let me do my job?!”

He huffed and walked away. A little while later, he walked past me while I was with the general manager, and he shouted over the music to make sure I heard:

Customer: “F****** slag!”

My manager grabbed him by his collar and threw him out there and then, no questions asked.

I moved out soon after turning eighteen and went from the country to a big city. At first, it was a culture shock, but I adapted to it. A friend of mine was working as a security guard/bouncer at a club in town. It wasn’t a total high society thing, but it wasn’t crappy, either. One night, my then-roommate dragged me out partying.

I went out to have a smoke and to call someone as smoking wasn’t allowed inside. My bouncer buddy saw me and I chilled with him, smoking a cigarette, and having a chat. He then went away to use the toilet, so I lit my second cigarette and tried to make my call.

I was approached by what seemed to be a mother-daughter duo or maybe aunt and niece. But the girl was maybe eighteen or nineteen, and the woman was in her early to mid-forties.

Woman: “Hey, excuse me!”

She waved to get my attention.

Me: “Huh?”

Woman: “So, we’ve waited at least half an hour.”

My friends and I waited forty-five minutes to get inside.

Me: “So?”

Woman: “So, maybe you could bring us in?”

Now I got it. She mistook me for a bouncer. Okay. The bouncers were in black jackets with “SECURITY” written in big, white, reflecting letters on the back and in little print on the right side of the chest, and they had earplugs for radios in their ears so they could be called if they were needed inside. I was in a black bomber jacket, an AC/DC shirt, black pants, and a pair of combat boots.

Me: “Uh, I think there is a misunderstanding.”

Woman: “Oh, no, there isn’t. Sure, you can’t let us skip the line, but what if you just look the other way…”

She started touching my jacket and I guess she was trying to be flirty?

Woman: “…and we slip in. We just want to do clubbing, and I bet you need some ladies in there.”

She then slipped a banknote into my pocket.

Girl: “Look, clubs need some girls so guys buy drinks, right?”

Me: “Sorry, I’m not working here.”

Woman: “Oh, come on. I know a bouncer when I see one. I’m long enough in the clubbing scene. I know you’re afraid of what your boss maybe will say, kid, but I know him. It’s Frank, right? He’s a friend of mine. Tell him [Woman] slipped in.”

My buddy came back from the toilet and raised an eyebrow when he saw me. The girl looked at my buddy and her eyes widened. My buddy was wearing the security jacket, black leather gloves, the radio plug in his ear, and an ID card around his neck. The girl then whispered in the woman’s ear. She looked at my buddy and went red in the face. Both then retreated to the back of the line.

He asked me what happened, I told him, and we laughed. I pulled the banknote out of my pocket; this woman had given me 100 euros. I went back into the club and bought beers for myself and my friends. Thanks for the beers and my groceries the next day, lady!

I am sitting with some friends having a drink at a nightclub. We are celebrating a birthday so it is a bit more upscale than I am used to. All of a sudden, a young woman my age comes up and sits down beside me.

Woman: “Oh, my God, that blouse is amazing!”

I am a bit taken aback by her being so forward, but being a bisexual woman myself, I think maybe she was being brave and trying to flirt or something, so I decide to give the conversation a shot. I smile at her.

Me: “Thank you.”

Woman: “Wow, can I feel it?”

She starts touching it before I even have time to reply, and at first, I am wondering if I should tell her off, but then I notice she is actually just feeling the blouse, seeing how the fabric feels, and so on. It is very strange to me since it is just a cheap blouse I bought a week ago in a very popular (and cheap) chain of clothing stores.

Me: “Um, I guess.”

Woman: “Where did you buy it?”

Me: “In [Chain].”

Woman: “How much did it cost?”

Me: “I don’t really remember, maybe like thirty euro.”

Woman: “Do they still have it?”

This whole time, she is still checking my blouse’s features.

Me: “I don’t know, but I just bought it a few days ago so I’m sure they still do. You can probably buy one.”

Woman: “Yeah, but what if they don’t have it?”

Me: “I’m sure they do.”

Woman: “What size is this one?”

Without even waiting for a reply, she goes up to the back of my neck to check the size tag.

Me: “It is size thirty-four.”

She continues looking, despite my reply, until she finds the size tag.

Woman: “Oh, no. It is size thirty-four; I’m a thirty-six.”

Me: “I am sure they have it in thirty-six, as well.”

She sighs and looks at the blouse a bit more, feeling the fabric. By this time, I have the feeling I should have told her off by now, but for some reason, I don’t.

Woman: “I’ll buy it for 100 euro.”

Me: “What? You’ll buy it?”

Woman: “Yeah, here, now. I don’t have money on me but I can go take some out.”

Me: “But I am wearing it.”

Woman: “So?”

Me: “I only have a bra under this.”

Woman: “Oh, but we can go to the toilet, you can have my sweater, and I’ll give you 100 euro.”

I am feeling very bad about the whole situation, as I feel like nothing more than a hanger in a store.

Me: “No.”

Woman: “Please!”

Me: “No.”

She leaves with a sour face. A friend comes over.

Friend: “What was that about?”

I explain what happened and she is shocked.

Friend: “You should’ve sold it.”

I work in a club in a small town where everyone knows everyone. We have closed and are trying to kick out the last few remaining customers who are refusing to leave.

Me: “Sorry, guys, you need to leave now. The club is closed.”

Customer #1: “Don’t you know who I am?”

Me: “No, I don’t.”

Customer #1: “I’m [CEO Of Club Company]’s son!”

Customer #2: “Yeah, and I’m his older brother.”

Two of the CEO’s sons work for the company, one is still in high school, and one I used to go to high school with. They’re in all the time so we all know them.

Me: “Oh, wow, which ones are you two again? Sorry, I always get your names wrong!”

Customer #1: “Ummm… I’m [CEO’s Oldest Son who works for us and is currently on shift].”

Customer #2: “And I’m [CEO’s Second Oldest Son that I went to school with].”

Me: “[CEO’s Oldest Son], what are you doing out here? I thought you were supposed to be packing down the bar? Have you been drinking on shift? I’ll be telling your father about this! And [CEO’s Second Oldest Son], I thought you were still in Melbourne with your mom! [CEO’s Third Son who works with us and who is also on shift] will be so excited to see you! I’ll go grab him for you!”

I went and grabbed the CEO’s actual sons who laughed at the boys for pretending to be them. The boys left quickly.

It’s New Year’s and we’re kicking out customers after a manic event — it’s 6:30 am by this point — where the club reached capacity, approximately 4000 people. We’re all exhausted and quite frankly looking forward to our staff party after work for working New Year and New Year’s Day, so we’re trying to get everyone out quickly so I’ve been asked to help in the cloakroom.

Customer: “I’ve lost my ticket. Can you look for my coat for me?”

The majority of the customers still need to leave; she’s one of the first I serve.

Me: “Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s club policy that if you’ve lost your ticket you have to wait till the end for us to find your coat.”

Customer: “It’s not f****** difficult. I’ll tell you what it looks like and you can get it.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but as I said before, I can’t get your coat until the end unless you have a ticket.”

Customer: “Listen here, you f****** b****. Just look for my f****** coat. It’s black.”

Me: “There are about 2000 black coats back there. I’m not looking for yours until the end or until you have the ticket.”

Customer: “Why the f*** not?”

Me: “Firstly, I’m not allowed to. Secondly, that’s the biggest waste of time.”

Customer: “F*** you, you little c***. You’re going to find me my f****** coat.”

She continues to shout and call me names for about five minutes before I can say anything.

Me: “I’m not finding your coat. Now go to the back of the line and wait.”

Customer: “I have f****** work at nine o’clock; I don’t have time to be waiting around.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you should have thought of that before you decided to go clubbing until six in the morning.”

Customer: “Stupid b****, get me your f****** manager.”

Me: “I can tell you now that she will tell you exactly the same.”

The manager had observed this whole incident and went to speak to her. The customer continued to swear and called me and the manager a bunch of obscene names. This went on for about ten minutes until the manager told her, quite forcefully, that if she was not going to wait, she could go home and call back when she was sober. The customer sulked off to the back of the queue, calling me a b****, etc., under her breath. It took so much for me not to lose my temper with her.