Thank fucking god I never have to say anything like that.
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!"
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...
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!"
1 comment:
Good God. That's amazing, and not in any kind of good way. Some people just need to be beaten.
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