Attack Of The Muffin Man

, , | Right | April 9, 2021

I’m working on the bar on a fairly busy night, serving a table of regulars.

Regular #1: “[Beers], please, [My Name]!”

Regular #2: “Actually, I’ll have a latte. Have you got any biscuits to go with it?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, we don’t.”

Regular #2: “That’s fine—”

Regular #1: *Butting in* “That’s not good enough. We’ll be expecting a wedge of cake on the side for the inconvenience!”

They all laugh and I know they’re just joking around, but as a special treat, I decide to quickly run into our back storeroom and grab a mini muffin from our breakfast stock. I’m not really supposed to just give them away, but our company has a policy that focuses heavily on going the extra mile to make guests happy, so I figure this counts.

I pop it down beside [Regular #2]’s latte, but before anyone can say anything, [Regular #1] grabs the muffin off his buddy’s plate and gobbles it up in two seconds.

Regular #1: *With a mouth full of crumbs* “Aw, cheers, [My Name], you’re a real star!”

I don’t know how to react while staying professional, so I just kind of walk away to serve other people. While I am taking care of other customers, [Regular #1] keeps coming back up to the bar.

Regular #1: *For the third time* “Hey, [My Name], can we get more muffins?”

Me: “Sorry, buddy, I can’t do it. I wasn’t supposed to even give you that one.”

Regular #1: *Whining* “Oh, come onnn, [My Name], just two more for the other guys!”

I feel bad for [Regular #2] not getting his muffin, but my gut tells me his mate is just going to pull the same stunt and eat anything else I bring out.

Me: “It was supposed to be a one-off treat for [Regular #2]. I was trying to do something nice and you ruined it. That’s your own fault. It’s done. It’s over. You ruined it. You’re not getting any more.”

He huffed off back to his table. Months later, he still occasionally tries to get free muffins out of me, and he even dropped me in trouble with my manager by complaining to them that I “wouldn’t give [him] free stuff anymore.”

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You’ll Just Have To Gin And Bear It

, , , , | Right | February 19, 2021

I’m working in a very loud pub. I’m deaf in one ear but can lip-read sufficiently enough to have had three years of bartending with no problem. I have occasional issues with certain words, but I tend to parrot back orders to make sure.

Lady: “Two double gin and tonics, please.”

Me: “Two double G&Ts! Any particular gin, ma’am?”

Lady: “Just the house.”

I start pouring drinks.

Lady: “No, no Gordon’s!”

Me: *Shows her the bottle* “This is Tanqueray, ma’am, not Gordon’s.”

Both are similarly sized green bottles.

Lady: “Bombay?”

I am irritated because I’ve just wasted two doubles’ worth of Tanqueray because she didn’t bother specifying a gin.

Me: “Of course. I can do Bombay, instead.”

I start pouring Bombay.

Lady: “No, not Bombay! Gordon’s!”

Me: “We don’t sell Gordon’s, ma’am. I asked if there was a specific gin you wanted and you didn’t clarify so I poured the house. Is there anything else you would like?”

Lady: “I’m allergic to Bombay and Tanqueray! That’s why I want Gordon’s!”

I’m now worried, because allergen violations are a huge problem in my district.

Me: “Oh. May I ask what it is that you’re allergic to so I may advise a certain gin?”

Lady: “Juniper.” 

For anyone that doesn’t know, to legally be classified as a gin, it HAS to contain juniper. She settled for Hendricks and didn’t die.

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Allergic To Common Sense, Part 18

, , , , , | Right | February 16, 2021

My mother is allergic to rapeseed oil and paprika. When we eat out, she looks at the menu, picks something she doesn’t think will have paprika on it, and then, when she orders, tells the waiter she’s allergic to rapeseed oil.

We were eating out one evening and my mother ordered her food and mentioned her rapeseed oil allergy and all was fine. The food arrived and it was sprinkled all over with decorative paprika.

My mother threw a tantrum and started almost shouting at the waitress. I had to shout across the table to get her to stop laying into the poor waitress because she clearly didn’t realise that the waitress wasn’t a mind reader.

Her excuse? We go to the pub a lot so the chef should have known not to put paprika on it.

Now, whenever I go out with her, I make sure she mentions both allergies, just in case.

Related:
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 17
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 16
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 15
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 14
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 13

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Give Peas A Chance? Bean There, Done That

, , , | Right | February 8, 2021

One of our regular customers comes into our bar with his adorable little kid. The little boy comes bouncing up to me excitedly while I’m serving somebody else. He points something out on the kids’ menu.

Boy: “I’m going to have a chicken burger! With fries and beans!”

Me: “That’s great, bud! I’ll be with you in just a minute; I’m still making drinks for this lady.”

Boy: “Okay!”

He happily skips away. I finish up with the other customer and pour the boy’s dad his usual drink.

Me: “So, [Boy] said he’s having a chicken burger, right?”

Customer: *Scoffs* “He doesn’t know what he wants. Give him a [fish fingers meal].”

Me: “Oh, okay… That’s with beans, right?”

He looks at me like I’m stupid.

Customer: “He’ll have peas.”

I complete the order and get back to the rest of my customers. Later on, I look over and see the kid looking absolutely miserable with his fish fingers.

A couple of days later, the customer is back, on his own this time.

Me: “Hi, [Customer]. No [Boy] today?”

Customer: “No, I really wasn’t happy with his behaviour last time. You know, he didn’t even eat any of his dinner! I’m not going to take him out to eat if he’s just going to throw a tantrum!”

I had to bite my tongue pretty hard that day. Listen to your kids, people!

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Not Even Remotely A Good Idea

, , , , , , | Friendly | January 31, 2021

Years ago, when I was still in college, the guys and I would occasionally sneak off-site to go to the pub at lunchtime — drink a few beers, play a game of pool, etc. It was normally empty at lunch as the regulars went to another less youth-orientated pub.

We arrived one day and found the place full; some sporting event was on. We weren’t that interested, so we found a corner and had something to eat and drink.

It was stupid noisy in there. One of my friends ran to his car and grabbed a remote. Being immature teens as we were, it was funny when he secretly turned down the volume, still funny when changed the channel, and a little funny when he turned it off altogether.

The problem was that our friend didn’t know when to stop, and no-one could tell him what to do.

I finished my drink and left with most of the other guys; the prospect of thirty pissed-off blokes angry at us was enough, especially now that he wasn’t even hiding the remote anymore.

We got back to college on time, but our friend was nearly an hour late.

He luckily didn’t come to any harm, but after the pub called the college, every student was banned for the rest of the year. Our friend couldn’t understand why everyone was fed up with him, or what he did wrong. Safe to say, he wasn’t invited along with us next year on lunch.

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