The Customers That Make You Drink

I run a little workshop on an industrial site. It’s like a row of large roll-door garages with little office rooms inside. It’s our last week before Christmas. I gather the guys around.

Me: “Great few months, guys. We had it tough at the start of the year but really pulled it around. I’ve put a little extra in your pay packet this month, but I’ve also gone out and got you a bottle of something each.”

I have a big box of bottles of whisky and I start to hand them out.

Me: “[Male Coworker], I know you don’t drink, so something else for you.”

Woman: “I don’t like whisky. What did I get?”

Me: “Who the h*** are you?”

Woman: “You can’t talk to me like that!

Me: “What are you doing here? Who are you? This is a closed shop; you can’t just let yourself in.”

Woman: “I’m a paying customer, and I want something other than whisky! It’s disgusting!”

Me: “What? No! Get lost, idiot.”

Woman: “How dare you?! I’ll have you all fired! I’ll write bad reviews everywhere.”

Good luck getting the owner fired or writing reviews on a company that is in an unmarked building. None of the industrial units have anything like a shop front, so what she was doing there I have no idea, but she got back in her car and disappeared quickly afterward.