Grabbing Themselves A Swift Exit

, , , , , , | Right | April 18, 2019

I used to work in a nightclub, and when going round collecting glasses I would occasionally get my a**e grabbed. I would immediately turn round and give the offending bloke a hard kick in the a**e back. My manager — the best boss ever, also a bloke — used to send all the new girls to me to train knowing I would tell them to do this. The bouncers also backed me up every time. One time the guy that grabbed me even apologised!

One occasion sticks in my mind — this was about 15 years ago — on a mid-week night when only three bouncers were working. There were five members of a well-known local sports team in the club. One of them grabbed my a**e, so I turned round and demanded to know which one of them had done it because I couldn’t be sure given that I was facing the other way. All five of them just laughed in my face.

I told the bouncers who then demanded they all leave, and they refused. The bouncers were outnumbered, so the police were called. All five got thrown out, despite these five degenerates repeatedly calling me a liar.  

Sometimes you’re lucky enough to work with awesome people, where the good guys outnumber the bad.

Her Light Bulb Is Cracked

, , , , , | Legal | January 1, 2019

Years ago, circa 2010, I worked as door staff at a fairly rough nightclub. We had a policy that every person through the door had to be searched with a wand and be subject to a bag check. I searched a woman and found a baggie of white powder in her purse. I confiscated it and turned her away; she began ranting and screaming at me but her friends escorted her away. I put the bag in our drug safe to be turned over to the cops and carried on with work.

A little while later, a police car drove up and two officers got out. The woman from before came storming back up and started screaming again. One of the officers said, “We have a report that you stole a mobile phone.” I was mystified as I didn’t even have a phone on me, but then the woman started ranting at him about me stealing from her.

A light bulb flashed on in my brain, and I radioed the manager to bring the baggie out. When she did, the crazy woman snatched it and started waving it at the police, telling them to arrest me for theft. The look on their faces was priceless as they arrested her and tested the powder; it came back positive — for what I don’t know, but the little pack changed color. It turned out that she had called 999 and the operator had misheard what she was ranting about and thought she said mobile. Gotta love drunk idiots!

No ID, No Idea, Part 32

, , , , , | Right | January 10, 2018

(I work as a security guard at a nightclub. A group of guys appearing to be tourists are all standing in line. They look fairly young.)

Me: *to the first guy in the line* “May I see your ID, please?”

Guy: “What? No, I left my passport back at the hotel.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but without a valid ID I can’t let you in.”

Guy: “I swear to you I turned 18 just last month. You have to believe me!”

Me: “I believe you.”

Guy: “YES!”

Me: “The age limit here is 20.”

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 31
No ID, No Idea, Part 30
No ID, No Idea, Part 29

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Someone Has To Be The Responsible Party

, , , | Right | December 31, 2017

(This happens on New Year’s Eve. We open the club about ten minutes after the fireworks and soon a girl approaches me.)

Customer: “Why are you working today?”

Me: “Because you want to party?”

(She looked really confused as to how this made any sense but left soon, leaving my coworkers and me confused as to why else we would be working.)

Impatience Is A Dish Best Served Raw

, , , , , , | Right | December 12, 2017

Many long years ago, I worked as a server in a nightclub. As was often the case, I was asked to work a reserved party. One customer ordered food and a drink – not too complicated, right?

Well, not two minutes after I submitted her food order to the kitchen and gave the customer her drink, she demanded, “Where my food?!” I assured her that her food was on the way, and left to take orders from the rest of the customers.

Every time I passed her, it was “Where my food?!” and patient explanations from me that the chef needed time to actually make it.

After the third or the fourth time, I’d had enough. I leaned in and said clearly, “If you want your food raw, I can bring it out now.”

The customer backed off, and I had no more problems from her until I delivered her order.

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