Stripped Of The Relevant Training

, , , , , | Working | October 30, 2017

(I am 17. I have left home and am broke, so I lie about my age to get a job in a nightclub. I am a month away from being 18, so I don’t feel too bad. There are no checks and screenings by a lot of places at this point in time. However, I am THE most naive young woman. I know nothing about how the world works in reality, and I find myself working in a nightclub that has seven different rooms and bars, all with different themes. I’ve never even been to a pub or bar socially before this night. I am assigned to [Bar #1], which is pretty normal, and most of the customers seem to be okay. I mess up quite a few drinks, but it is laughed off when I tell the customers it’s my first night. I am doing okay, I think, and even manage to navigate my way around the multi- and split-level corridors to get to the bathrooms and back. The place is a total warren. And then:)

Supervisor: *shouts over the music* “[My Name]! Go to [Bar #7]! They need a barmaid!”

Me: *shouts over the music* “Where’s [Bar #7]?”

Supervisor: *shouts over the music* “Downstairs! Ask someone on the way!”

(So off I trot, trying to find my way to [Bar #7], asking various customers and staff along the way. Whenever I ask for directions, however, I get comments like, “You don’t want to be going there, love,” or, “Why the h*** are they putting YOU there?” or, “Who the bloody h*** told YOU to go to [Bar #7]?” and so on. But nobody will tell me why I shouldn’t go there, so I get stubborn and carry on. When I finally find [Bar #7], 20 minutes later, I drag the door open, only to be blasted with deafening music – much louder than upstairs. I walk to the bar, and look at the shocked face of the barman there.)

Me: *angry now* “What on earth is the matter with everyone? Why shouldn’t I be here?”

(My new colleague just spluttered and pointed at the stage, going beetroot red in the face. I turned around just as a woman on stage was removing her last piece of clothing with a “TA-DAAA!” gesture. She posed there, stark naked, to rapturous applause from the 200 men watching her. The lights went down, she dashed off the stage, and all 200 men turned to face naive little me at the bar, who was standing there with her bottom jaw resting on the top of her prim little lace-up shoes. I was the only female in the room after a full-on strip show. Gulp. It actually didn’t turn out too badly. I think most of them saw me as a substitute daughter, while the rest were so embarrassed to be caught watching a stripper by a very shocked young woman that they left [Bar #7] in quite a hurry and bought drinks elsewhere.)

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This May Be Good-Looking But This Doesn’t Look Good

, , , | Working | August 15, 2017

(I work in a club that has separate servers for taking orders, delivering food, and delivering drinks. I am a food server. One night, a table server brings me an order, saying the customer found it too cold. It feels fine to me, but I reheat it and bring it out to her.)

Customer: *giving me the stink-eye* “Is this the same food?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, you asked for it to be reheated.”

Customer: “No! I wanted a new dish! It was cold and I want new food cooked.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

(I go into the back, dump the food into a new basket, stick it in the microwave for five minutes, then bum around until it’s done. As I take the now lava-hot food out to the floor, a coworker who serves drinks passes me. He has a muscular build, but a baby face.)

Me: *getting an idea* “Hey, [Coworker]! Take this to the lady at table fifty. Just say it’s her new food.”

(He takes it and walks off. When he gets back, I ask how it went.)

Coworker: “She just took it and started eating.”

Me: “Ha! See, I knew no woman could resist a handsome guy like you bringing her food!”

Coworker: “…”

(Now when we have difficult customers, we have him handle it, because they love him!)

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Bouncing Around The Club Tonight

, , , , | Working | June 22, 2017

(The dance floors of this club are ringed with chairs and counters. I’m sitting out a couple of songs when I spot a bouncer whom I’m convinced has it in for me and is now staring at me. I shrug it off and look elsewhere. But seconds later, I feel him grab my shoulder. I turn to see what he wants and gently lift his hand off, but he grabs me again.)

Me: “Can I… help you?”

Bouncer: “Why are you sitting there?”

Me: “I was a bit tired, so I sat down for a while.”

Bouncer: “You need to go home.”

Me: “I’m not breaking any rules.”

Bouncer: “We can discuss this outside.”

Me: “Er… fine.”

(I follow him out.)

Bouncer: *to the doorman* “I caught him sleeping on the dance floor. He needs to go home.” *marches off*

Me: “What? No. I was just sitting down, because I was a bit tired.”

Doorman: “If you’re feeling tired, you need to go home.”

Me: “No, I mean… fatigued from dancing. I wasn’t sleeping; I don’t know why he got that impression. Look, I haven’t broken any rules and I’m not that drunk.”

Doorman: *considers* “All right. Go back in.”

(I go back in and order another drink (only my fourth) and sit down to drink it. The same bouncer comes my way.)

Bouncer: “I told you to go.”

Me: “The doorman let me back in.”

Bouncer: “But you’re sitting down again. If you’re tired you need to go home.”

Me: *gestures at 20 other people sitting round the dance floor* “Do you do this with everyone who sits down in here?”

(He went off to get another bouncer. By the time they got back, I’d finished my drink and got up to dance again, looking nicely energetic. I saw them next to where I was sitting with him gesturing my way and the other bouncer laughing at him.)

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Creepiness Reaches Full Germination

| Working | May 19, 2017

(I have a weekend job where I serve food at a club. I am a female and my coworkers are male. They’re all great… with one exception. This takes place when I come in early and am eating a salad the head cook made for me.)

Me: *eating salad and minding my own business*

Coworker: *approaching me, rubbing a finger along his mustache*

Me: “What, I got something on my lip?”

Coworker: *doesn’t respond, just keeps advancing on me, rubbing his mustache*

Me: “Seriously, dude, what?”

Coworker: *suddenly sticks his finger in my salad* “My germs! My germs! My germs!”

Me: “You a******!”

(I threw the salad out, and warned the guy to never come near me when I’m eating. He didn’t understand why I was acting “so uptight.” Frankly, I have never been more repulsed by any one person in my life.)

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Desperado For A Disaronno

| Right | May 3, 2017

(It is student night at the club I work in and it is a very busy night with a lot of customers surrounding the bar, when I get these two women:)

Me: “What can I get you?”

Customer #1: “Can I get two vodka cokes and two Disaronnos.”

Me: “Is that as a shot or are you wanting them as a mixer?”

Customer #1: “What? No! Just two Disaronnos!”

Me: “Yes, so just in two-shot glasses then?” *smiling at them as best I can*

Customer #2: “Are you stupid?! How many times does she need to say she just wants two Disaronnos!”

Me: “I understand that, what I don’t understand is how she wants me to give her the order. She has the choice of shot glasses, neat on ice, or in a mixer.”

Customer #2: *points at fridge behind the bar* “I guess since you are too stupid to know what alcohol you sell, she wants two bottles of those.”

Me: “Oh! She wants two bottles of Desperados. Sure! I will get them for you now.”

(I go and make the vodka mixers and open the bottles of Desperados, putting a lime in the top of each bottle.)

Customer #1: “Finally you know what Disaronno is! but you do realise that it’s meant to be lemon slices not lime?

Me: I can assure you it is definitely lime, and Disaronno is a liquor, not a beer. Ask for Desperado in the future.”

Customer #2: “I think you will find your pronunciation of the two are wrong.”

Me: “Is there anything else?”

Customer #2: “Yes, we are paying together. Could I get a triple vodka with half Red Bull and half Pepsi in a tall glass?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there is a few problems with your order. Firstly we are not legally allowed to sell triples; I can make you a double and shot of vodka and you can add it to your drink yourself, or you can just have a double. Also we don’t do different sizes of glasses, and if you want a mixture of both Red Bull and Pepsi you will have to pay a lot more.”

Customer #2: “I don’t understand how on Earth you ever got this d*** job. I have never known such badly trained staff. I should be served whatever d*** thing I order!”

Me: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience but I am just making sure I don’t break the law.”

Customer #2: “Forget it, then!”

(I just smiled at the two customers, told them how much their order came to, and let them leave. They proceeded to be rude to every member of bar staff that served them until being thrown out by a bouncer for causing trouble.)

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