Definitely A Glass-Half-Full Kind Of Customer

, , , | Right | May 11, 2020

I’m having some drinks with friends in a small, local pub. My cider comes in a very pretty, engraved glass, which I accidentally knock over and break during the evening. There was barely any drink left in it.

Me: *Waving to a waitress* “Excuse me? I broke my glass.”

Waitress: “Oh, I’ll get you a new pint.”

Me: “No, I’d just like a towel or something to clean this up; I don’t want to get small bits of glass everywhere.”

Waitress: “Don’t worry; I’ll get you a new pint. On the house.”

Me: “But I was already finished. I just want to clean up the mess I made.”

The waitress is looking at me somewhat dumbfounded.

Waitress: “You don’t want a new drink?”

Me: “Not necessarily. I might order one later on. I just want to clean the table.”

I do drink some more pints, and when it’s time to pay:

Me: “And how much was the glass I broke?”

Waitress: “Your pint was 3,80€.”

Me: “Yes, I had three pints, but I also broke a glass.”

The waitress looks confused.

Me: “I’d like to pay for the glass I broke. They look pretty expensive as a special edition.”

Waitress: “You want to pay… for a broken glass?”

Me: “Well, it’s a loss on your side, isn’t it? I should make up for it.”

The waitress had to go and ask the barkeeper, who’d been watching us for a while. He actually gave me one of the glasses as a gift for being a nice patron. Kind of the opposite of what I wanted to do, but I sure love my pretty pint glass!


This story was included in our May 2020 Inspirational Roundup.

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Unfiltered Story #191597

, , | Unfiltered | April 8, 2020

I work as a barmaid in a large chain of pubs across the UK, taking both food and drink orders at the bar. A semi-regular customer approaches the bar to place a food order. Everything goes well until this exchange:
Customer: last time I was here I ordered a salad and I didn’t get it. *stares blankly at me*
Me: I’m sorry to hear that.
Customer: I want my salad now.
[I know that it won’t be possible for stock purposes to give him this, especially since his claims can’t be validated and the company is very strict on giving away free food but I check with the manager anyway.]
Me: I’m afraid the manager has said that it is not possible as you should have brought it up on the day it happened so it could be dealt with then.
Customer: *talks slowly and angrily* you see, I am a regular here and if I don’t get that salad I will not be returning here.
Me: the manager has said no, so there’s nothing I can do.
Customer: *keeps staring at me like I’m stupid*
Me: …there is literally nothing that I can do.
[He ended up throwing his menu on the floor and walking out. I haven’t seen him since].

When Doing The Right Thing Sours The Milk

, , , , , , , | Working | March 26, 2020

About ten years ago, I got my first job in a local pub right on the seafront. It was — and still is — a beautiful location, and my best friend also worked there behind the bar. I thought I had scored the perfect job, but due to the actions of a few terrible people, it became a living nightmare. There were many things that went on that you probably wouldn’t believe, but today I’m just going to tell you about one of the milder instances.

The big boss, a giant of a man almost as wide as he was tall, wanted to train me up on coffees. Along with the usual instructions, he told me to just put the jugs of hot steamed milk back into the fridge after we were done with them. They were large pitchers, so the same batch of milk would be constantly heated, cooled, and reheated throughout the day. After the boss had walked away, my best friend quietly told me that it wasn’t safe to do that, and we should throw the old milk away as soon as the coast was clear.

Concerned, I did some research that night and found that, yeah, it’s not safe to keep steaming hot liquids in the fridge, as the repeated cooling and heating keeps the milk in the “danger zone” temperature range too often, which could lead to the growth of bacteria, as well as potentially affecting the temperature of everything else in the fridge.

Being young, naive, and on the autistic spectrum, I innocently assumed that my manager was simply unaware of these facts, and that surely he would be glad to know the truth. I printed off my findings and took them to him the next morning.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t go well. 

He shooed me into the kitchen, physically backed me up into a corner, and began threatening me that — in his own words — “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” and that he had been thinking of giving me a promotion but now he “didn’t think he could trust me.”

I had my hours cut, and of course I never got that promotion, which honestly I don’t think ever existed. If we were ever caught throwing the milk away, it was taken out of our pay. It was a good lesson in never trusting the bosses to do the right thing, a lesson that has been backed up time and time again in every place I’ve worked since.

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Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet Of Jerks

, , , | Right | March 16, 2020

(I am a student who works in a pub part-time, while helping to run events for a student club which we book out a different pub for. All the club’s events are free and anyone can come along, so it’s different people every time, and all of us organising are volunteers. This week we’re showing a film. Two guys I’ve never seen before arrive and decide to put their drinks down on the edge of a half folded-up ping pong table that’s in the corner. There are many other tables around which they could have used. The owners of the pub have put it in the corner because it has broken and mentioned it in passing to those of us who were there early, but these two seemingly aren’t aware. I walk past the table just as the drinks are collapsing; the two pints fall to the floor and go everywhere.)

Me: “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t realise anyone had put drinks there!”

Jerk #1: *angrily* “What the h***?! That was a full pint!”

Jerk #2: “What the f***?!”

Me: “Yeah, I think the table was broken. Sorry, I didn’t see you put drinks there. I’m just going to go get something to clear this up.”

(I go to the bar and say what happened, and they give me a bucket and mop and apologise for not talking to the other two about the table being broken. I talk to the other person running the event with me and we decide that once the drinks are cleared up we’ll buy them new ones out of our limited funds, as it wasn’t really anyone’s fault but we want to be nice. I go over and set the mop and bucket up and the two guys come over looking angry. They keep muttering to each other angrily about their drinks still. The bar gives us subsidised prices and these are very cheap drinks; we’re talking £1.90ish a pint.)

Me: *to the jerks* “Yeah, sorry, the bar staff said that the table was broken; that’s why it was in the corner. It must’ve just collapsed when your drinks were put on it.”

(They don’t respond, so I just start mopping up the spilt beer and squeezing it into the bucket.)

Jerk #1: “Oh, my God, she can’t even clean up properly!”

Jerk #2: “F****** h***!”

Me: *looks up at them with an eyebrow raised*

Jerk #2: *condescendingly* “You know that’s not how you mop, right?”

Jerk #1: *also condescendingly* “Yeah, you’re meant to get the water from the bucket with the mop and use that for the mess.”

Me: “Well, it makes sense to remove all the excess liquid first; then I’ll clean it properly afterward.”

Jerk #1: “No, you clean it with the soapy water, not just mix the beer around on the floor.”

Me: “That is not what I’m doing; I’m soaking it up first rather than adding more liquid and then I will clean it with soapy water afterward.”

Jerk #1: “Mopping isn’t that hard to work out; you use the soapy water and the mop to clean, not the beer.”

Me: “I literally work in a bar and do this all the time. If there’s a lot of split liquid, it makes sense to clear that up before cleaning the floor.”

(I finish mopping up the beer into one bucket, and then I start using clean water from another to clean the floor. They keep muttering and laughing to each other about how “stupid” I am while just standing there watching me.)

Me: “Do you want to do it, then? It’s not like this was my fault. I’m just cleaning it to be nice.”

(They continued laughing and walked away. The other organiser and I decided not to buy them replacement drinks after all, but he did get me a much-needed drink. The two guys continued being rude and muttering throughout the film and annoying everyone else there, but thankfully, they never came back.)

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Unfiltered Story #189037

, | Unfiltered | March 10, 2020

I used to be a bar manager and had just started at a new place that had been closed for a while, due to last owner selling alcohol to persons under age. I made it clear to all the staff that I needed them to be on their guard and I would back them up 100%.
On the third day off opening, it was the start of the night and was quite, so I was doing my rounds, when I heard a customer yelling at one of my staff, so I went over.

Me: Hello. Can I help?
Young Customer: Yes, you can tell this f*****g b***h to serve me!
Me: (Trying to keep calm) Excuse me?
Customer: I f*****g said, get her to f*****g serve me! She’s f*****g refusing to, till I f*****g show her my ID.
Me: (Still trying to keep calm) Well do you have any ID?
Customer: No. Why the f**k should I?
Me: (Still trying) Well the law…
Customer: (Interrupting me) F**k the law and f**k you. I want to speak to the f*****g manager.
It’s at this point I begin to smile on the inside and notice that the female member of staff is a bit upset. I knew that this was her first job.
Me: No problem. We’ll be right back. Come on {Staff Member}
I tell the rest of the staff not to serve him and the other staff member and I go outside for a much needed cigarette and a chat, to cheer her up and explain that she did nothing wrong.
When we walk back in the customer sees me.
Customer: I said I wanted to speak to the f*****g manager.
Me: I am the f*****g manager.
Customer: …..
Me: So do you have any f*****g ID?
Customer: No
Me: Well f**k off and don’t ever speak to my staff like that again!

Never saw him again and my staff never had a problem asking for ID again.

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