BAH!!

oh christ.....im drunk.. ooops!

I did karaoke tonight....apparently I can carry a tune.

Tonight was....well, strange.

I basically stood behind the bar tonight, doing as little as possible, and managed to walk with $152.

Its very late....I would LOVE to write more, but I am just too tired. I guess I could sum it up really quick.

This past week I have been accused of stealing $10 from a regular customer. This is a customer that tips over the top, that I have partied with outside of the bar, and was at my wedding.
But I stole ten fucking dollars from him.....sure! That makes sense! Phhtttt!!!!!

This past week Ive been caught in the middle of 'lets see who can do the least amount of work' basically leaving it up to me to keep everything stocked. Lettuce, olives, pickles, beer! COME ON! How hard is it? The pissing match between mornings and mids....Its all falling onto me. I don't like stocking 12 cases of beer the minute I walk in the door!

This past week Ive been dealing with a co-worker that likes to stay until midnight when they get off at 1pm. Needless to say, she gets drunk, retarded and paranoid, thinking I stole her money. ...She is good friends with my regular that thinks I ripped him off ten bucks. SUPER!

This past week the owner has been getting on me about sales. "How did we go through that much CC?" Oh hell, I don't know! Maybe it had something to do with the 10 fucking people drinking it!!!..What a concept!

This past week I came to work with the day bartender handing me a big red piece of paper. "What the hell is this Bella?" It was a shut off notice from the water department. "Uhh, don't worry about it." I didn't know what to say about it.

This past week the owners went to the casino, came back to the bar, and bitched about the water bill.

This past week has been horrible.

This past week I applied at the Olive Garden. again.

Damn you people!

Alright, which one of you found me?

To the two ladies that work together, which one of you is reading this? Did you get me drunk and I told you? You KNOW SoCo gives me diarrhea of the mouth! Stop doing that! Biiiitchhh!

I'm starting to feel some pressure knowing that people read this. Should I start making shit up? No, that would be bad. I didn't have to work tonight, so I don't really have anything interesting to write. Bummer.

How about a horror story from my days at the Olive Garden? Ah yes, the days at the OG. I loved working there! I don't know why, but I absolutely loved working there. Would I go back? No. Not unless I could bring my entire management team (minus Rhonda) with me.

So I had the 4 bar booths this night. (we were the new Tuscan style place) 101, 102, 103, 104 were my tables that night. I was getting my bar pay, but waiting tables, and not splitting tips. I still had to make my own drinks, which was a major pain, but otherwise awesome.

Anyway, the night was almost over, and I had two tables that wanted to sit in the bar area.

Table 104 - Younger, mid twenties, regulars, excellent tippers.
Table 103 - Crotchy old people, not much time left, wants everything yesterday.

Table 104 usually comes in for lunch, but they cut through the OG parking lot to get to Best Buy, saw my car and decided to stop for dinner when they were done shopping. They order a Chicken Alfredo and a Tour of Italy....and of course salad and bread, extra ranch.

Table 103, never seen them before.... I walk up to the table with my wine bottle, "Hi! I'm bella, I'll be taking care of yo...... "WE DON'T DRINK!" Okay, fine. I just turned around and set the bottle on the bar "Well, I guess you wont be needing that! So how about something to drink?" The old woman just scowls at me and says "I just told you we don't drink! Is that too hard to understand?"

"No, ma'am, I was thinking maybe an iced tea, coffee, maybe a soda?"

"I just want water, with a lemon, and a straw."

"and for you sir?" *big smile*

"I'll have a Dewars, up." I think he might have felt bad or something. who knows.

I bring the drinks, they order food. She orders a Chicken Alfredo, lunch portion. " I want the lunch size! I cant eat the dinner size! It's too much food! Lunch size! You got that?" Yesss..
He orders the Tour of Italy. "Allright folks I'll get that right in for ya!"

I walk past 103 on my way to the compris and they're looking at me just laughing. I stop at at the the table and say "Is everything super freaking fabulous over here folks?" In a really sarcastic tone with a big cheesy smile. It just makes them laugh even harder. I walk away to put the order in.

Flash forward to 103 coming out. A co-worker was carrying my food to the table, I thought it was strange that 104 was coming out before 103. I go over to serve my food. (when Im not busy, I like to deliver my food.) Just as Lisa was setting the plate onto the table I notice it was a dinner size going to the 'I can't eat that size' lady...Oh shit.

"LISA! NO!" I grabbed the plate right out of her hand. "This goes to 103, can you check the window for 104? Its the same thing, just lunch size on the alfredo."

And then I got the old lady freak out.. "You're gonna take food right out from under me? right off my table?"

"Ma'am, this isn't your food. Your food is on the way, this food, goes to the table behind you."

"Well, I don't know who you think you are little missy! I can't believe you would take food from me! You can't do that! You can not do that! thats my food! you can't do that!!"

"Ma'am, that wasn't what you ordered. Your food is..."

"I guess you don't want a tip from us! Cuz you're not gettin one!"

"Well ma'am, I'm glad you found a reason not to tip me. Your order should be out shortly"

I walked over to my other table, rolled my eyes, and they just laughed. "Bella, seriously, how do you do this?"

"Honestly? I get to meet people like you." They tipped me about 75% and later bought me a few drinks at the bar down the street when I got off work.

The old fuckers stiffed me and called corporate.

You can't possibly be that ignorant...

As you know, (if you checked my profile) I'm from Detroit Michigan. Well, I'm not really from Detroit, but I do live 6 blocks from the border. I live in a mostly black city, (about 60/40) and I have friends and regular customers that are black....I don't like the 'N' word. (I'm white, not that that matters.)

Anyway.....This short fat white guy walks in the door tonight. Hes got a shaved head, Dickies that are covered in paint, and a flight jacket. I didn't think anything of if at first, Ive got a few guys that come in that look like that.

So, he orders a Budweiser, hands me 3 singles, and waits for his 50 cents.. *sigh* He starts bitching about the night club down the street. "Man! That mothafuckah down there just punched me in the head for no reason!" I ignore it. "Yea! It was the mothafuckin bouncer down there! I just felt him hittin me in the head, and I didn't do nothin to deserve it!"

Last I checked, you don't get an ass beating for no reason at that place. The other bar that's down the street, thats a different story.

I'll make an 'other bars in the neighborhood' post some other day.

He grabs his cell phone. "I gotta make a call to my boy, that bouncer is a dead mothafucka."

So now I have to eavesdrop...just a little...

"Yo dawg! We gotta meet up somewhere! I gotta problem. Yea, that mothafucka down at that jigga bar just punched me in the head for no reason and I wanna take care of his ass!" I know heard jigga, but I knew what was being implied.

I didn't think anything of it until I saw the look on Big D's face. Oh snap.

Big D is in his late 30's (I'm guessing) 6'3" 200+ pounds....He is a very big black man. I've never seen him get that look before. He has a bit of a southern drawl, I can't really explain how he talks, but he pauses alot, and..well, you would have to hear it, it's unexplainable.

"Uhhh....Bella, I know I'm not usually here this late, but uhhhh...how often does that man come in here?"

"D, I've never seen him before."

"Ok....good.....cause...uhhh......well....ya know." I nod. "Yeah, hes kind of an ass. Have a good evening sweetie."

"Well, its workin up to be that way.......Did he say what I think he said??"

"D, I heard what he said, It's not exactly what you think. He said 'jigga' not the other word." I knew what the asshole meant, I just didn't want a big fight at the end of the night.

"Bella, I've been around, I've been around awhile, I know what he means. Don't play wit me. I know you know......" Yeah, I know.

"I don't mean no disrespect bro!" The a-hole yells from across the bar.

Big D just looks at him, and gives me the 'are you kidding me?!?' look.

"Yo Bella, I'll just see you Thursday...I'm not doin' this shit tonight.....I just...I...MAN....See ya Thursday girl" Big D just walks out the door shaking his head in disbelief.

He has never had a problem in my place and it made me feel bad that this ass came in. Detroit is so segregated (by choice) and its really nice when you can get a mix of races in one place just having fun. It was just.... It was fucked up. Ive NEVER had this happen before tonight.

As soon as Big D leaves, this asshole starts up again how he got punched in the head by a bouncer down the street. "Man! I didn't even do anything! That N****R just started punchin me! For no reason! Fuck that N****r!"
Ok. Now I am done. "YOU SAY THAT WORD ONE MORE FUCKING TIME WERE GONNA HAVE A PROBLEM!"

He stops... ahhhh....silence.

But 2 minutes later he starts again with words I would feel guilty about typing. Lets just say... take the 'N word' replace 'ger' with 'lets' for an example. "YOU! GO! NOW! Don't EVER think about coming back!" I can't guarantee his safety if he comes back. I know that sounds bad, but I can't control what people do outside my doors.

He gets this puzzled look on his face, he can't figure out what he did wrong. "Just go" I say.

He calls me a stupid fucking bitch and leaves.

I know should have thrown him out after the 'jigga' comment, but I didn't. My bad.

Ive been drinking.....if this doesn't make sense, sorry...

Dear mister 'I think I'm a good tipper' guy...

You're not. You are not a good tipper in any way shape or form.

Your TWO whole fucking dollars you give me after you drink 13 beers does not impress me.

The way you whine about getting the TV remote makes me want to stab you.

Next time you call me by saying 'YO! ADRIANE!' or shouting 'eee awww eeee!' I swear to god I'll bash your head in with the closest blunt object.

When you want to talk to me about the 'latest' episode of MASH...well, I don't know what to say, other than....'please kill me now'

Your 'friends' God, where do I start?? I would like to stab them as well. I think you're rubbing off on them. The tips they've been leaving me? They suck.

Is it my shitty attitude? Well, My attitude hasn't changed much in the last 6 years.

So what the fuck? You order beer, I bring you beer. You order food, I bring you food. Why the crappy tip?

Why don't you just stay away from the bar for ONE DAY A WEEK? If you do, you can get cable! You can watch MASH and stay home, stay the hell away from me!

Hi, My name is Bella! Welcome to....

Thank fucking god I never have to say anything like that.

I work in a bar. A small, family-owned, hole in the wall, neighborhood bar. My opening line is, "What can I get ya?" or "Something to drink?" If you're lucky, and I'm in a stellar mood, you might even be able to get a hello out of me. Some people think I'm a total bitch, I think I'm, well, honest.

I don't hate my job or anything, I actually kinda like it. I like being around people and shootin the shit with my regular customers. But theres always that guy.

Hes the guy that comes in wearing muddy ass boots, a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, looking like he hasn't shaved in a week. He gets mud and dirt all over my clean floor, that I mopped, and acts like hes better than me.

Here are some examples of his douchiness...

One day, I was training a new bartender, who was super nervous. I jokingly said to her 'Don't worry! We'll learn ya!' He corrected me on it...'Isn't it TEACH YOU?' Yes asshole, it is. What the fuck? does he seriously think I talk like that? Oh yeah, I forgot, I'm a bartender. I must not have an education. I am below him and his muddy ass boots.
~
One day, after firing the cook, Mr. Muddy Boots comes walking in. Lucky me. So anyway, he comes in, sits down, starts looking around the bar......

He asks me "Where's Joe?" "Joe isn't working here anymore" Joe the cook got fired due to his lack of hand washing skills. "Oh, well, I want a steak. Rare. RARE." "Okay, what kind of potato? baked, french fries, chips, steak fries..." "I want mashed, with gravy." Did I say mashed? or anything remotely close to mashed? "We don't have mashed, we have.." I go through the choices again, and he starts pouting. POUTING.

A grown man, in his late thirties is pouting about mashed potatoes. "I guess I'll have fries."

"OK, what kind of dressing for your salad?" He gets this shocked look on his face "I can't get soup?! I thought soup was a choice!" "Yes, you can get soup instead of a salad, I just thought, since you have never ordered soup, that you would be getting the salad. Either way, the soup is french onion."

"You know what they say when you assume..." Uh, yes I do...but you're the only being an ass here. "I don't like french onion, I'll have salad." specfuckingtacular. "What kind of dressing?"
he asks what kind of dressing, I go through the extensive dressing list, (we only have 9 choices and he always gets bleu cheese) "What about raspberry vinaigrette?" No. "What about green goddess?" Never even heard of that but no. "Fine. You have vinegar and oil right? Is it balsamic vinegar or just crappy cider vinegar?" "We have both good and crappy types of vinegar." "Well, I'll have bleu cheese."

Sometimes, I think hes just testing me.

So, I wash my hands, head over to the kitchen, and throw on some gloves. "WAIT!" he yells. I stop, turn around and give him the 'whatthefucknow' look. "YOU'RE cooking my food?? I want a COOK to COOK my food." I just didn't know what to say to that. I cook all the time. I actually enjoy it. When I hear Oohs and yums, it gives me the warm and fuzzies.

Anyway, he gives a lowly person like me permission to cook his food. Gee, thanks.

I go to make his salad. "I don't want croutons!" he yells back to me "No prob!" I shout back. Then with all his wisdom he says "All they are is stale chunks of bread ya know!" Really?? No fucking kidding? See, I had NO IDEA thats what they were! I only make them every single fucking day! But oh thank you for that little bit of knowledge! I sure hope it fits in my little brain!

He gets his salad.....and begins inspecting it. "Yep, every thing's here" Why thank you, I'm glad you approve. I throw the steak on the grill, sprinkle on the seasonings, and I can just FEEL him staring at me, watching my every move. "You know thats RARE right?" "I did take the order.."
"OK, just checking, cause I like my steak RARE" Right. Rare. got it.

Fast fast forward to him getting his RARE steak. "It looks done to me! Take it off" I hate that the kitchen is where it is... "Alright, one very rare steak for ya" I set the plate in front of him and he says "Hold on, don't go anywhere! If this isn't rare, you're makin me a new one!" Fine. Whatever. He cuts into his RARE RARE steak "THIS IS NOT RARE! THIS IS RAW!" "you said rare rare, right?" "Yeah, but this is RAW." It was not raw. I actually overcooked it a tad, it was slightly above rare. "You did tell me when to take it off the grill, right? You said, and I quote, 'thats good enough, get it off there!' Right? So who's at fault here?"

He sat and thought about it, again with the pouting, and I offered to throw it back on the grill for him. He declined by saying "Naw, you'll just go burn it or do something nasty to it." I wish. "Enjoy!"