I am the assistant manager at an Irish theme pub. It’s a busy Friday night and everything is going well. I decide to order pizza for myself and the rest of the staff, as we’ve all been on shift for quite a while and it’s starting to quieten down enough for us to relax slightly before we close.

Just after I get off the phone, there is a tremendous sound of smashing glass from the lower bar. I stick my head around the corner to see a huge hole now in one of our massive plate glass windows that face the street. The customers who are in the bar are all looking shocked, and some are covered in glass, so I quickly work out that somebody broke it from the outside in, so a coworker and I run out into the street to try and find the culprit.

I follow a trail of blood across the street and find a middle-aged couple, both pretty drunk. The woman has huge gashes in her arm from where it went through the window, and she is bleeding pretty heavily. I quickly send my coworker back to the bar to grab a roll of paper towels to hold the poor woman’s arm together while I ring an ambulance.

The whole time, the woman is saying she’s fine and that she just wants to go back to her hotel, despite the fact she has an arterial bleed pulsing out of her forearm. The man says nothing at all, apart from offering me a cigarette.

After a long wait, a mobile paramedic turns up and starts asking questions, not actually helping that much, while his colleague watches. All this time, I am still trying to keep this drunk woman’s arm from falling apart.

Eventually, he rings for an actual ambulance, and I suddenly feel a very insistent tap on my shoulder.

I turn, keeping my grip on the woman’s arm, to see a pizza delivery guy trying to hand me a stack of pizzas. It turns out he’d gone into the bar to drop them off, and apparently insisted on giving them to the name on the order. When the other staff had told him where I was, he’d come out to find me.

When I tell him to go back to the bar and that they will pay him from the till, he just keeps repeating the total price at me and trying to balance the pizzas on my already rather occupied arms. Finally, the other paramedic takes over holding the woman’s arm together, and I have my hands free. The pizza guy dumps the stack of pizzas into my blood-covered arms, takes some money off my coworker who has come out to help, and leaves without a word. That leaves me covered in blood, tired, not a little annoyed, and holding five large pizzas in the middle of the road at midnight on a Friday night.

We later discovered that the woman had got into an argument with her husband while walking past our pub, tried to punch him in the face, and missed, putting her fist through the window.

(I work in a small pub. It’s a small village and we get quite a few regulars. One of these regulars is my uncle’s best friend. My uncle has recently passed away from bowel cancer, and his best friend is taking it especially hard. Neither men married and my uncle died quite young. I’m behind the bar.)

Me: “Hi, [Best Friend]. How are you today?”

Best Friend: “Not good, love. Can’t wait to get this will business out of the way.”

Me: “Put your money away; this one’s on me.”

(I make a note in the employee book to charge for the drink and pull the pint. Just as I pass it over, this happens:)

Woman: “Why does that man get a free drink? I want a free drink!”

Me: *ignoring the woman* “The restaurant through there is empty at the moment, [Uncle’s Best Friend]. Feel free to go sit down for a minute. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Woman: “Don’t you ignore me! I want a pint of Carlsberg and I’m not paying for it!”

Me: “I bought that man a drink out of my own money as he’s going through a tough time right now. I don’t even know you!”

Woman: “Well, I’m [Woman]; buy me a drink!”

(My manager comes out of the back and the woman’s eyes widen.)

Woman: “Oh, f***.”

Manager: “You’re still barred, [Woman]! Get out!”

(The woman scurries away.)

Me: “What did she do?”

Manager: “She pissed in someone’s pint when they went to the bathroom.”

(I work in a rock pub, and on this particular Saturday we are short-staffed and low on our draft beers — so low, in fact, that by 10:00 pm we are out of cider, lager, pilsner, and bitter! We still have about four other drafts to choose from, and a selection of bottled beers and ales. All of the drafts that are off have a glass over them to show they are empty. One customer has been in since before my shift started at 8:00, and so is aware of which drafts are off.)

Customer: “Can I have a pint of [Bitter]?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, we’ve run out of that; can I get you something else?”

Customer: “For f***’s sake. Fine, what bottles have you got?”

Me: “Well, [Bottle #1] and [Beer #1] have been popular substitutes.”

Customer: “How much is [Bottle #1]?”

Me: “It’s [price].”

Customer: “What about [Beer #1]? How much is that?”

Me: “It’s [slightly higher price].”

Customer: *exasperated sigh* “What kind of s***hole is this?”

(I blink at the customer, slightly surprised by the comment is he is a semi-regular here.)

Me: “Well, sir, it is the kind of s***hole you are more than welcome to leave.”

(He looked at me slightly taken aback and hopefully realising how stupid his comment was before ordering his beer.)

(I work at an Irish pub owned by a management company. I am the assistant manager. Our general manager has come in recently and has not dealt much with the area manager yet. One day quite soon after Saint Patrick’s weekend — our busiest day of the year — our area manager comes in for a meeting with the two of us, as he occasionally does at random intervals, mainly to complain about stuff. It is worth noting that both the general manager and I are Irish, and the area manager is English.)

Area Manager: “So, why haven’t you put up those posters I asked you to put up?”

General Manager: “You sent that message this morning; we haven’t had time yet.”

(It is 9:00 am. The message to print and put up the posters came at 8:00.)

Area Manager: “Oh, I see. Typical f****** Irish, can’t do f******* anything we ask you, can you? Both of you are useless. F****** Paddies.”

(For a second, the general manager and I stare at each other, stunned. Then, the general manager stands. It’s worth noting he is huge, and towers over the area manager. Everything he says is delivered in a very calm, but hugely menacing voice.)

General Manager: “You get out of my pub, right now, or I’ll put you out through the f****** window.”

(The area manager seems to realise he’s made a mistake. He laughs nervously and looks at me. I’m pretty much a pacifist at the best of times, but this guy has been getting on my nerves for a while, and this is the last straw. I stand, as well.)

Area Manager: “And what are you going to do?”

Me: “I might open the window first.”

(The area manager left very quickly. He was later transferred to another area once my general manager complained and refused to work with him anymore. The kicker? The company was owned by an Irishman.)

This story of part of the St. Patrick’s Day roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

23 Times Waitstaff Had To Deal With Customers From Hell

Read the next St. Patrick’s Day roundup story!

Read the St. Patrick’s Day roundup!

(My husband and I own a pub. While I am away interstate visiting family, a new security guard is hired. His job is mainly to check IDs and keep out or remove drunk people. Upon returning, I stop by to see my husband.)

Me: “Hi! You must be the new guard.”

Guard: “You can’t come in.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Guard: “You’re pissed; you can’t come in.”

Me: “What? I haven’t even had a drink.”

Guard: “Bulls***. I can smell it on you. Now, leave before I call the cops.”

Me: “Look here. I don’t think you realize—“

Guard: “Are you deaf, as well as fat and ugly?! You’re not coming in. Now, waddle off before I call the cops.”

Me: “Listen here. Get [Husband] out here now!”

Guard: “You really are as stupid as you are fugly. F*** off or I’m calling the cops.”

(I pull out my phone and call the pub, as my husband would not likely answer his mobile.)

Husband: “[Pub], [Husband] speaking. How can I help you?”

Me: “Hey, babe, it’s me. The new guard isn’t letting me in. Can you come out, please?”

Guard: “Your pathetic little boyfriend isn’t going to get you in. I say who comes in, and a fat, ugly piece of s*** like you is not getting in. Now, f*** off before I kick both you and your boyfriend’s a**es.”

(My husband is still on the other end of the phone and hears everything. He and the other guard, who is working inside, come rushing out.)

Husband: “[Guard], what the h*** do you think you’re doing?”

Guard: “This woman is drunk and refuses to leave. I’m about to call the police.”

Husband: “No, you’re refusing to let a sober woman in, who also happens to be my wife and an owner of this pub. [Other Guard] will get your stuff; you’re banned from here for life.”

Guard: “But, but… I didn’t know she was your wife. That’s not fair!”

Husband: *now practically shaking with anger* ”It doesn’t matter if it’s my wife or another patron; you should never speak to anyone the way you just did. You’re lucky she hasn’t kicked your a** for it. Now, I suggest you apologize before she does or calls the cops for threatening her.”

Guard: “Umm… I’m sorry. Please don’t fire me.”

Husband: “Too late. You’ll be lucky to get another job after this gets out. You need to get off our property. Go to your car and [Other Guard] will bring out your stuff. You’re hereby banned from here.”

(The guard walked to his car while calling me various names and yelling how this was all my fault. Over the next week, he kept ringing the pub and when I’d answer he’d threaten me. Also, my windshield was smashed, the side of my car was keyed, and my tires were slashed — all caught on the CCTV cameras. Eventually, he was charged with malicious damage and making death threats. He was sentenced to eight months in jail and lost his security license.)