Archive for April, 2012

Tony D., East Vista, CA. GULPU

April 28, 2012

A husband and wife walk into the bar. He is a fifty year old wearing a Hawaiian shirt half buttoned and she is homely and half his age. She is pushing a stroller with their child inside it. Most bars aren’t kid friendly, but since our establishment is both a restaurant and a pub we encourage families to be comfortable there. In fact a lot of our regulars bring in their sweet, well-mannered and well-behaved children all the time and not only do we as employees embrace them but other customers do as well.

This is why when this man strolled up with his kid and his darts no one really thought much of it. He approaches the bar. After waiting less than a minute he grows impatient and begins waving his cash in the air. I walk over to him.

“Jack and Coke. And whatever she wants,” he says.

He points over his shoulder at the woman he walked in with who is frantically trying to find a safer place than a crowded dart room in a busy pub for her to store her child. As she does she dodges darts until she finally finds a safe corner for her kid and her to sit. She begins to order, but does so in what sounded like German. She spoke as if she expected me to understand her. I stopped her finally and began to respond in English. She held up her finger and waved it in my face before turning and calling for the man in the Hawaiian shirt. He was playing darts so it took a minute to get his attention. She waved him over. He leaned on the bar, annoyed.

“I said a Jack and Coke.”

“Right, what is she having?” I asked pointing at his wife.

He nodded.

“Vodka Tonic. Make it the cheap stuff.”

I made their drinks and by the time I returned he was back to playing darts. I placed the drinks in front of the foreigner and told her it was nine dollars. She stared blankly at me. I motioned money with my fingers and she finally got it pulling out a twenty. I gave her some change which she pocketed.

Then the crying began. It started out quietly and brief, but slowly transformed into the sound of a constant scream. It was the kid. I scanned the bar and received annoyed looks from my happy hour regulars. The screaming stopped but continued to ring in my ears for several seconds longer. The guy returns with an empty glass.

“I don’t think there was any whiskey in that drink so make this one a double,” he says as he waves his money in my face.

I pull out a glass and a shot glass. I measure the drink to exactly two ounces and top it off with coke. He pays without tipping.

“Do you guys have any snacks? She’s hungry,” he says as he nods to his mail order bride.

I slide him a menu. He slides it back.

“No, no, I meant like peanuts or crackers or something.”

“No we do not, sir.”

“What kind of restaurant is this?”

He goes back to playing darts. I serve some other people when out of the corner of my eye I see him standing halfway in the doorway to the kitchen. I rush over and find him harassing the kitchen staff for soup crackers which unfortunately they give to him. I inform the man he is not to be bothering the kitchen and he walks away without acknowledging me.

I return to the bar and see that his wife is dousing the soup crackers in Tabasco sauce and shoving them down her throat. The screaming begins again shortly after that. The mother tries to console the child but to no avail. The father keeps playing darts not even looking over at her or the child. He returns to the bar and orders another double. I inform him that it would be appreciated if he could get the kid to stop screaming. He shrugs me off and returns to the dart board again without leaving a tip.

The screaming stops and everyone sitting at the bar and those sitting in the section of tables to the left of the dartboard release a collective sigh of relief to be free from the piercing sound of an angry child. He orders another double without tipping. Five minutes later the screaming starts right back up. The mother has since given up and stares blankly off into space while the father never acknowledges either one of them.

This happened every Friday for a month straight. It was to the point that customers were complaining about the noise. Both parents had been warned every week, but finally it became too much to bare. I was forced to walk out from behind the bar, pull the man to the side and inform him that his five year old child was 86ed from the establishment. He looked shocked. He glanced over at his screaming child briefly before turning back to me.

“If they wait out front can I stay?”

After fighting off the urge to call Child Protective Services I sent the whole fucked up family packing and thankfully have not seen them since.

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I’m a Bartender

April 21, 2012

A guy approaches the bar. I finish helping my current customer and then move on to him.

“How are you doing? What can I get for you?” I ask.

“Yeah good. I just got off work. I’m a bartender down at …”

He continues to talk but as soon as I hear “I’m a bartender” not only do I stop listening but my internal douchebag alert sounds off at a frequency too loud to ignore. This may seem like an innocent statement to you but I know better. He didn’t name drop his occupation because he wanted to talk shop and discuss different ways to pour a vodka cranberry. This dick toast is trying to get the hook up, but I am not going to fall for it.

It is clear this guy is new to the business. Young bartenders always feel really cool when they first start out and for some reason assume that bartending is some secret order that allows them to drink for free wherever they go. Some of my best customers are bartenders who I hook up on occasion but this is due to them being cool or having proved over time to be a good tipper not because of what they do.

Then there is the guy who within five minutes of meeting you starts promising free shit at his bar.

“Hey bro, I bartend down at D Street. You should come check it out. If I’m working I’ll hook you up fat.”

Obviously this guy believes he will in turn get hooked up at my bar. This is not the case. Just the opposite because anyone willing to give away the bar to a complete stranger isn’t going to have a job for very long. I learned a long time ago that giving away free booze is a great way to get fired.

A lot of times people who have a complaint will claim to be a bartender. That is their attempt at establishing what they call in the crack business “street cred.” How could they be wrong if they do this for a living, allegedly, and why shouldn’t they be showered with free booze as a result?

Like the girl who slams her half drank glass on my bar interrupting my interaction with another customer. I ignore her and try to focus on the transaction at hand.

“Excuse me,” she says.

I ignore her.

“Excuse me,” she says, this time louder.

I finish helping my customer and upon seeing no one else at the bar I approach the girl with the half drank drink.

“What can I do for you?” I ask.

“Um, yeah, my margarita doesn’t have any orange juice in it.”

“I’m sorry I thought you wanted it plain.”

“I did that’s why I was expecting it to have orange juice.”

We stare at each and I quickly realize I am dealing with an inferior species of human.

“There’s no orange juice in a plain margarita but I can…”

“Uh actually I’m a bartender and I have never heard of a margarita that didn’t have orange juice in it,” she says.

I find myself at a crossroads. I can either enter into a debate with an idiot or I can just pour some orange juice in her glass and save my brain cells for more important purposes.

“How about I just pour some orange juice in that drink for you miss?”

“Well I was thinking for my inconvenience my girlfriends and I should get a round of shots on the house. It’s pretty standard to take care of your customers. Every bar I’ve ever worked at would do the same without being asked to.”

This girl is a fraud and so are people like her. Not only was she wrong about what went in her drink but since she is freshly twenty-one I doubt how extensive her experience in the bar business could be.

Former bartenders might be the worst. They can’t wait to tell you how to do your job which according to them they are qualified to do based on the fact that they bartended at the busiest bar in bumfuck Minnesota over a fifteen year span that covered the eighties and early nineties. Believe me that wealth of ancient experience is not going to make statements like, “Why did you do that?” or “I’ve never seen that before,” or  “You want to know how I used to do that?” are not going to get your drink filled faster.

Bartenders beware any person who claims to be in the business within the first five minutes of you talking to them should be double charged for everything they order. If you come across an issue with a so-called “bartender” making unintelligible complaints just pour orange juice in whatever glass they have in front of them. More importantly, if you come across a mouthy veteran of the bar game report them to the Home For Lost Barekeeps so that they may find someone who cares about what a mean mint julep they used to pour.

The Whistle Won’t Work

April 14, 2012

There is a special place in hell for anyone disrespectful enough to whistle at a bartender in an attempt to get their attention. In fact I believe that in this unique corner of hell those culprits who have been caught whistling rudely in their past are forced to watch repeat episodes of American Idol on full blast with hourly intervals of random Stained songs that get pumped through a musical catheter of sorts injecting depressing, repetitive, shitty music into their bodies via their private parts.

When I walk my dog I usually let him off the leash so that he may shit and piss freely. If he runs off or is hidden behind a bush I will on occasion whistle in an attempt to get him to come back to me. It works great on a dog because they are simple creatures who can’t necessarily comprehend words, so loud noises are one of the few ways to communicate with them.

Bartenders are not dogs. Therefore just because your Bud Light bottle is empty doesn’t give you the right to treat them like one. Believe me “bro” you waiting an extra twenty seconds to get a fresh bottle of domestic piss won’t kill you but whistling at a bartender might. We are a prideful bunch who put up with a lot of shit on a nightly basis and if you whistle at the wrong grumpy English bartender on a day that his favorite football team has lost to a girl’s high school soccer team it may prove to be the last thing you do on this earth.

The sound of a whistling drunk can make your skin crawl and when it is directed at you the urge to kill can be overwhelming. You must fight this urge with every bone in your body. Murder is the easy way out for both of you. Anyone ignorant enough to whistle at a bartender must be scolded and punished in a loud enough manner to embarrass them in front of everyone else sitting at the bar. It is important to let them know that you are not a dog. You then must explain to them that if they ever whistle at a bartender again they will be 86ed from drinking alcohol anywhere including in their own basement. Then, based on their response you decide whether or not you have the large man standing on the door break both their legs.

At the very least, whistling at the bartender is a great way to go thirsty for the rest of the evening. Not only will you be skipped, but you will be ignored in such a blatant manner that no matter how dumb you are you will get the fact that you fucked up. If you whistle at me I will help everyone else in the entire bar even if I have to start offering table service before I will even consider serving you again. I will tell my barback to go on break so I can run glassware in lieu of pouring you anything. I will enter every credit card slip into my computer as slowly as possible so that you may crave your drink for just a little longer. And then once I have no viable way to possibly ignore you anymore I will smoke a cigarette.

I bet you are wondering if you can’t call a bartender bro or sugar nipples or big dog or baby or snap your fingers or scream or whistle, how are you ever going to get a drink around here? The answer to that is only found when one truly understands that using these words or whistling is actually not going to get you served faster. It will give you just the opposite. Bartenders have a great memory and hold a grudge all the way to their grave. Once you are labeled a whistler you are a whistler for life. In fact other bartenders who you haven’t ever whistled at will be able to recognize you for what you are and the drinks will continually be coming out slower and slower until one day when they finally stop.

You the general drunken public should be offended as well. The last thing you want as you’re peacefully sipping a frosty pint is for some bag of dick to stroll up to the bar and whistle as loud as he can. I recommend the next time this happens you stop what you are doing and stare at the culprit in disgust. Feel free to point and I highly encourage you alert others that there has been a serious bar infraction. Let’s make it clear to this disrespectful douchebag and those like him that we as a people will not stand for that sort of behavior any longer .

GULPU.com Launch Update

April 7, 2012

As CEO of GuerillaDeSwine Productions the parent company of GULPU.com I would like to personally thank everyone out there for being so patient in regards to the release of the GULPU website. I am pleased to say that we have finally found a web designer crazy enough to work with us. He nailed the swimsuit competition and completed the aquatic obstacle course in record time. Now that he has signed the contract he is under my control. He will be working twenty three hour days with a shit, shower, sleep and smoke break all rolled into his one hour of down time. This may sound extreme but our scientists here have found that people work harder when they are miserable.

What this means to you, the general public, is that GULPU.com will be up in no time so start getting your reviews ready. I recommend you organize your reviews from worst to best. That way the really big douchebags will be exposed as putrid individuals immediately. For example, if you come across a skankified college student who thinks it’s okay for twenty-two year olds to dump ranch and ketchup into a pint glass just so a busboy has to clean it up definitely post her review immediately in an effort to save a future busboy from extra work when he happens upon this frosty bitch.

That’s what GULPU.com is all about. We are here to help you help your fellow man. By calling out a customer who clearly has no clue what it means to be a respectful and contributing member of society they may read it and say, “you know what I am a raging bitch.” Sometimes this will work and sometimes it won’t but if it stops one fucktard from whistling at a bartender think what a great contribution you have just made to society.

The more people who read or leave reviews on GULPU.com the stronger we as working folk will become. Banding together against the evil tyranny that makes up seventy percent of the consumer public will form a bond no frat boy’s self-entitled attitude will ever be able to break. In order to strengthen our GULPU community as soon as possible it would be wise to begin to spread the word about GULPU.com to your family, friends, fuckmates, co-workers, as well as any random employee of all restaurants, bars, taverns, pubs, retail stores, video stores, call centers, any customer support or really any job or industry that has the word customer in its title that you may come in contact with.

We here at GuerillaDeSwine Productions appreciate your support and would like to reward our most loyal customers. In an effort to do so we will be offering a prize for the first twenty people to leave reviews on GULPU.com once the website is up and fully functional. That’s right; the first twenty people to post their precious words on our site will receive a rare gift package!

This gift package includes a GULPU LAUNCH tee-shirt signed by Mr. GuerillaDeSwine himself. (The signature is optional). There will only be twenty of these release tee-shirts and they will be cooler than the GULPU.com tee-shirts we will have available for purchase to the general public. In addition to these one-time only specialty tee-shirts GULPU.com’s first twenty participants will receive an invitation to the GULPU Website Release Pool Party where the invitees will get to meet and swim with the lead singer of The Paragraphs, the band that insanely popular local magazine Happy Endings called, “The most kick-ass band in North County.” In addition to getting to meet a local celebrity there will be good beer, stiff cocktails, tasty BBQ and all the cornhole you can handle.

So start documenting all the evil shit the people you serve have ever done to you and be a part of the GULPU community. Alert as many other people as possible about our future existence so that the inaugural release becomes a successful one. Our success helps you and anyone who has ever ended a double by sucking vomit out of a sink with a shopvac. Be one of the first twenty GULPU reviewers and receive the prize package of a lifetime. Most importantly remember that the next time a scumbag squeezes your ass then stiffs you because you asked him to leave GULPU is here to help you fight back.


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