I used to work at a bar as the only female security. They’d had some very bad things happen when a man followed a woman to the bathroom, so they needed a woman that could keep an eye on what happened in there.
This bar got in legal trouble all the time. There was the bathroom thing above, the fire marshal closed them on some busy weekend nights for being way over capacity, and the liquor board had pulled their license once already for overserving and serving minors with pretty obvious fake IDs.
I was one of the new security hired to help resolve all this. It was so bad. We had to be trained by a government ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives) person and get a card to prove we knew how to spot and stop overserves and spot fake IDs. I think the real reason they hired us was to have scapegoats on the ready for the next time they did this.
I worked there a while, doing my best. [Owner’s Wife] was the worst. She was always drunk, and she always had her friends in the bar and bent the rules for them. She thought she was Lady Jesus and we should all be kissing her feet because she was the owner’s wife. I mostly stayed out of her way and had no issues, but many coworkers complained about her.
One night, some dude got sick on the way to the bathroom. I cut him off, and he ended up getting escorted out by his less drunk friends.
I noticed a man sitting at the bar watching this. He had creased slacks, a jacket indoors on a summer night, and no drink in his hand — at a busy meat-market dance club. I started watching him and noticed the badge under his jacket. Ah-ha! He was here to watch for overserving.
A little later, a woman came to the bathroom, drunk enough to need to hold onto the walls for dear life. I cut her off. She screamed at me, and then she went into the bathroom and tried to wash off the giant black Sharpie Xs from the back of both hands.
Me: “Ma’am, you’ll be kicked out of the club if you continue like this.”
She screamed again and staggered out of the bathroom.
About five minutes later, [Owner’s Wife] was in my face, screaming.
Owner’s Wife: “That woman you just cut off was my friend! She’s here attending a bachelorette party in the VIP section!”
I was supposed to somehow magically know she was VIP. I was also apparently supposed to break the law for her because she was VIP. So, [Owner’s Wife] and I started a screaming match.
Me: “Your husband hired me to make sure the law is followed!”
I also started to inform her about the police officer at the bar, but she screamed in my face:
Owner’s Wife: “Shut your mouth and get out of my bar!”
She fired me on the spot. I didn’t bother waiting to see if her husband agreed; it was known she wore the pants.
I complied. I shut my mouth and got out of her bar. I walked past the cop, still sitting at the end of the bar near the bathrooms where the screaming match had taken place. I made eye contact with him and gave a slight nod, to which he responded by looking at [Owner’s Wife], rolling his eyes, and smiling at me as I left.
They got shut down that night for overserving the bachelorette party. This time, they went out of business because of too many strikes against them.
