The Pluck Of The Irish

, , , , , , , | Working | August 23, 2019

(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.)

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