Posts Tagged ‘asshole’

Holiday Winter Storm

January 16, 2014

Every year a certain local restaurant has their annual holiday party, and every year they end up at the pub, and every year they treat our staff, our customers and the pub itself with zero respect. It is like feeding time at the raptor cage from the moment they stumble up until the moment they get thrown out. This restaurant shall remain nameless due to the fact that I have the utmost respect for seventy-five percent of their staff who are all important members of the craft beer community. It was that fact that made me hesitate even writing this but the level of douchebaggery the other twenty-five percent displayed this year was far too egregious for me to stay silent.

It’s 4 pm on a Monday afternoon. Our happy hour regulars are settling in to their stools discussing the day’s events over a nice frosty pint of ale. The door opens and in walks a guy with a hat representing the restaurant he works at. He walks to the far side of the bar and sits down. The bartender approaches him to offer him a beer. He mentions where he works and says that he is meeting a party in upwards of 50 people here to celebrate their holiday party.

I know what you are thinking, 50 people on a quiet Monday afternoon that will be a great boon for business, and you’re right. However, most people who are part of a party of 50 have enough brain power to call ahead days in advance and I would be happy with even an hour’s heads up. Then you think about this particular group and realize that they work at a restaurant, allegedly. Here’s an idea, pull your fancy diamond bedazzled smart phone out of your ass and apply it to your ear so whatever restaurant you plan on destroying has a chance to make sure the level of ass kicking is a manageable one.

If I’d known that a bunch of drunk restaurant employees were approaching my bar I would have had a dark corner prepared to herd them into so my regular customers wouldn’t have to be bothered with their idiocy. I would have gladly set up a cage on the far side of our patio where they could yell and punch each other in the balls all to their hearts’ desire. When you add in that these people have been at their work drinking free high in alcohol beers all afternoon you understand how potentially damaging this group could be. Who ends a holiday party at 4 in the afternoon on a Monday and releases their shit faced employees like a roving Jager-stinking fifty person zombie apocalypse upon the local community? That doesn’t sound like responsible serving to me.

The regulars were shocked by the sudden influx of younger people. They were intrigued for less than a minute and all motioned to close their tabs out immediately. I would have done the same as I wouldn’t want to get bumped by drunken 22 year olds who are fighting each other to get a drink faster. We went four deep at the bar which is fun but getting string ordered by people who work in the bar industry is frustrating and annoying.

Once the initial rush mellowed we were able to start letting this screaming band of bar amateurs know that they needed to chill the fuck out and start treating this place with a sense of respect. They would listen for a few minutes and then start freaking out uncontrollably again. Things really started going downhill when I found a bottle of spiced Jager sitting over by the pool table. First of all if you are going to sneak liquor into a bar make it some real shit not some water downed bitchafied version of Jager.

Second of all, now people are going to start getting kicked out. I found the first one lying on the ground in front of the pub. This was at about 630. I kicked him in his ribs and he shook to life. He claimed he was waiting on a ride. I told him to leave the property. When he argued I asked him if people were allowed to lie on the ground in front of his restaurant. He shook his head no and stumbled his way down towards Denny’s. An hour and a half later a girl showed up with a baby looking for him.

The second one was already on watch for puffing on her e-cigarette inside even after being warned twice not to do so. As she took a seat at the bar she saw a plate of food. After blurting out that while she didn’t know whose food it was she was going to eat it anyway, she  proceeded to eat it anyway. When I pulled her out she was in tears saying how embarrassed she was and rightly so. I asked her to leave and when she argued I asked her if at her restaurant they allowed customers to randomly eat off other customers’ plates. She looked at me and stuttered out a tear and snot soaked yes.

The third one was most likely the oldest member of the staff left and seemed to be in some sort of management role with the restaurant. When I had first discovered the Jager bottle he had assumed the responsibility of gaining control of the crowd and helping us make sure his people didn’t do anything else stupid. That plan was a bust due to the fact that he might have been one of the more intoxicated people there more so than most of the kids who were ten years younger than him.

He had mentioned something about getting everyone to move to the bowling alley since my staff and I made it clear that is was in everyone’s best interest that they move along. An hour later he said they were going to go bowling. When I looked around and saw that was not the case I referenced about how lucky the bowling alley staff would be to get to serve him and his staff. He then told me to “not be an asshole” and that was the end of his evening and any evenings he ever thought he would be welcome back because he is most certainly not welcome.

At the end of this month it will be our Holiday party and the entire staff including myself will be letting loose and having a hot God damn good time. There will be crying, vomiting and spousal abandonment.  Our debauchery will be behind closed doors where the only people getting offended will be ourselves. One word of advice to any bar or restaurant who is planning a holiday party sometime in the near to distant future and that is open bar at your place and make sure there is no way to get out so that any staff- wide insanity does nothing to bother the rest of humanity.

BUY MY BOOK LOVE LIFE BY CLICKING ON THE LOVE LIFE LINK UP AND TO THE RIGHT FROM HERE!

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You’re 86ed!

June 17, 2012

It takes a special kind of dirt bag to get 86ed from a bar. It is the highest level of bar discipline there is. First you get cut off, then you get kicked out, but to be 86ed means you went below and beyond the worst of human behavior. Getting 86ed requires more than simply falling out of a stool or vomiting in a plant. You have to reach an extreme level of douchebaggery to receive a lifetime ban. With 81 unassisted 86ing’s on my stat sheet I would like to share my expertise on the subject so that you can avoid ever being banned from a bar for life.

First of all never swing first. What that means is if you don’t instigate a fight a fight usually won’t find you. I have found that people who get into bar fights go out looking for them. There are guys out there who believe that fighting is a way to solve simple bar disagreements. They suck down countless vodka red bulls and then have two options; have a heart attack or start a fight. I prefer they choose the first option but they never seem to.

Fights are bad for business and are a serious buzzkill. People get hurt; girls start screaming and most of the time the cops show up. Pain, female screaming and the police aren’t exactly my idea of a party. If they are yours you won’t last long at my bar. Starting a fight is an automatic 86ing and if you happen to hit my door guy he is likely to break your fucking legs so that you have to crawl to whatever bar you plan on starting shit at next.

In some cases where fights are involved the instigator isn’t the only one to be 86ed. If you get in the way or ignore our attempts at breaking up a fight you will be 86ed. If you escalate the fight to a higher level of violence, like say cracking a pool cue over a guy’s head, not only will you be 86ed, you will also be billed for a new pool cue.

In order to be welcomed back to a bar you must respect that bar and its policies. The most important policy a bar must uphold is to not sell alcohol to minors. If a bar or one of its employees get caught doing so they can be fined, lose their liquor license or can even be arrested.  That’s why if you come into my bar with a minor and try to sneak them drinks you will be 86ed.

I work with an elite staff that take their jobs very seriously and are damn good at them. No matter how sneaky you think you are being we will always catch you. We are smart enough to know that those two shots you claimed are “both for me bro” aren’t, and as soon as you walk away you are on immediate watch. At that point it is only a matter of time before we bounce both you and the sixteen year-old girl you passed that second shot off to. If you want to get a minor wasted do it at home like a normal parent or older brother or statutory rapist.

In addition to respecting bar policies it is important to treat the bar staff with that same level of respect. We are here to help you have a good time so don’t fuck with us. Bar employees have to put up with a lot of shit but crossing certain lines will absolutely get you 86ed. The second you throw a shot glass or a handful of fruit at me you will be 86ed. If you decide to talk shit about me or one of my fellow bar employees or even the bar at which I work you will be 86ed. If you threaten to break a bar stool over my head because I cut you off you will be 86ed.

Sexually harassing bar employees is the easiest way to get yourself banned from a bar for life. Whether it’s a hungry pack of Human Female Hyenas molesting a defenseless bar back or a group of frat boys hounding an innocent hostess any unwanted and aggressive come on that crosses the line will get you 86ed. That means no touching us, ever. This rule mainly applies to female employees. The second your hand grabs the ass or breast of a female employee you will be lucky to leave with that limb still attached to your body.

There doesn’t necessarily need to be a specific reason for 86ing someone. Over time the accumulation of minor infractions can add up to getting a repeat offender of bar policy 86ed for no reason at all. If you are repeatedly rude, disrespectful, don’t tip, and are hated by regulars and employees then you will be banned from every decent bar you ever frequent. It eventually gets to the point where it is so evident what a dickbag a certain individual is that I may 86 them simply for saying hello.

People who get 86ed always seem to try to come back. Not just once, but multiple times. No matter how many times you try to explain to someone they are 86ed they never seem to grasp that it is for life. There is no getting un-86ed once the final verdict has been handed down. All appeals will fall on deaf ears. Making excuses or apologizing or begging is not going to undo what ever asinine act got you 86ed in the first place. My advice to anyone I’ve ever 86ed is to save your time and your breath and find some other bar to act like an asshole at.

Jason C., Chicago, IL. GULPU

May 26, 2012

I don’t like to toss the words frosty and bitch around lightly, but sometimes there is no other way to describe certain females. There are just some women who make it a point to be a royal pain in the ass. There are men like that too except we call them a douche bag or asshole or dickbag. The term frosty bitch, however, is one I like to reserve for the fairer sex.

It was college night and we were slammed. I was by myself behind the bar and maintaining pretty well despite the constant stream of server tickets spewing out of my ticket printer. I pulled three tickets and on my way to making those drinks took an order from a couple at the right end of the bar. After placing six drinks in the server window I proceeded to mix the couples drinks. I served them with a smile and moved onto a group of three guys to the left of them.

They all ordered beers and on my way to the draft tower I snagged two more server tickets from the printer. As I was pouring the beers I scanned the bar. Three more server tickets had just printed out. The couple I had just served was good, the guys next to them were the ones I was serving, there was another couple to the left of them who were good and to the left of them was one guy who had just walked up and was patiently waiting with his money in hand.

I put the server’s drinks in the window and then served the three guys their beers. I gave the solo guy the head nod and then proceeded to cash out my current order. As I did that up walks a girl who I could tell from the slam of the front door had literally just walked in. She stood next to the guy I was going to help next and tried to catch my attention by bending over the bar showing her cleavage. I avoided nipple and eye contact and kept moving.

I dropped off the three guys change. Four more server tickets printed out. I approached the guy who had been patiently waiting. Before he could even begin to order this frosty bitch started waving her hand in the air.

“Excuse me I was here first.”

I ignored her and maintained eye contact with the guy. He began to order when again she waved a hand in the air.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I was like here way before him. “

I looked at her. She was in her early thirties but based on her makeup and skankified outfit it was clear she was hoping to pass for twenty-two. Her blatant attempt of looking younger was failing miserably.

“Excuse me Mam, but no you weren’t here first. I will be with you as soon as I help the customers who have been waiting longer.”

“Whatever. A gentleman would help the woman first.”

She then glanced at the guy I was originally trying to help with a crooked smile that smacked of a sickly attempt at seducing him. Instead of being interested in this forward flirt on her part he looked scared and confused. He motioned for me to help her first.

She ordered a lemon drop martini. I chilled her glass and then went about pouring the four server tickets. I placed the drinks in the server window and then began to mix her drink. The guy I had tried to help had walked away.

I put her drink in front of her and told her it would be eight dollars. She gasped in disgust.

“Really? It took long enough. I feel like that’s way too much money.”

She begrudgingly pulled her wallet out of her purse and slid a ten dollar bill across the bar. I gave her the change which she quickly snatched and put away. I saw that the guy I had tried to help before hadn’t left but had simply moved to the other side of the bar.

I went to go help him again when out of the corner of my eye I saw her reach for my fruit caddy. I was able to intervene before she stuck her grubby little hands all over my freshly cut fruit. I politely informed her that her touching my fruit was against health code and made it clear that if she wanted more fruit all she had to do was ask.

“Wow, rude. All I wanted was another lemon,” she said.

I handed her another lemon. The guy ordered a beer. The ticket printer pumped out two more server tickets. They were both beers. I poured them and then as I went to put them in the window I saw this frosty bitch with half her hand buried in the server’s fruit caddy.

I watched as she grabbed a couple of cherries and dropped them in her drink. She then stuck her dirty skank hand back in the caddy. I put the drinks down and slammed the lid of the caddy down on her. She screamed at such a high pitch it sounded like a cat was being tortured. She pulled her hand back and it was full of cherries and lemons.

“I told you not to do that once already. If you do it again I will have to ask you to leave,” I said.

She let out a defiant cackle and then threw the fruit in her hand at me. Before the fruit hit the floor I snatched her drink and threw it away. I then came around the bar and escorted her out. She kicked and screamed and cursed and skanked but her words fell upon deaf ears.

When I returned I was finally able to help the guy who had been waiting so patiently. Once he got his drink he and everyone else that had come in contact with that frosty bitch breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her leaving.

Churchill’s Renaissance III Revisited

March 10, 2012

We survived Renaissance, barely, and once again Churchill’s Pub and Grille proved to have the best selection of craft beer and food served by the finest restaurant/bar staff in the world. That’s right, I said THE WORLD. Feel free to further expand our egos at the pub by showering us with over exaggerated compliments in regards to our exceptional skills. That being said I reiterate that some of us barely survived and that’s not even in regards to the staff. Sure we worked our asses off but you, the general drunken public, drank and ate your asses off and for that we love you.

The line to enter the pub allegedly started at 3:30 Saturday morning. We have since confirmed this to be true by consulting one of the many secret cameras we have hidden in and around the pub. By 6:30 it was already leaking out of our parking lot. When I walked up at ten it had grown to a thousand according to the crack head at the halfway house who repeatedly cursed at me to stay off his porch.

At 10:55 the staff shared one last moment of meditation followed up by a group hug. Then, the doors flung open and the madness began. People bum rushed the bar in a frenzied attempt at being the first to order Churchill’s Finest Hour. Waves and waves of customers slowly marched in and filled the entire bar, restaurant and patio. Ninety-Nine percent of the crowd was polite and patient as they realized that amongst the insanity the entire staff was doing everything in their power to keep people drunk, fat and happy. Those who were rude or impatient usually only got served once.

The vomit level was low much to the relief of our bar backs who were forced to bring their own puke buckets from home. The one glaring upheaval did unfortunately happen in the fire pit which was thankfully not on. Anyone who has ever caught a whiff of a flaming pool of vomit knows how horrible it can be and that it often leads to a ferocious cycle of group puking.

While most customers ordered efficiently so we could help them as quickly as possible there were those who decided that they were more important than all the other customers waiting for food and drink. That’s right string order boy, I am talking to you. At a quiet bar where it’s just you and your buddies making the bartender or server make multiple back to back trips for you is accepted, although still frowned upon. At a bar filled to max capacity with rabid beer aficionados foaming at the mouth to be served a drink this sort of behavior is unacceptable. If you can’t order all your drinks at once you are making others suffer. Even at my most busy and scatter brained I can handle up to eighty-one drinks in my mind at once, so please don ‘t be scared to try to overwhelm me. The quicker I move on from you the quicker I can help the cute girl in the corner, who if I keep serving in a speedy fashion may get drunk enough for you to get lucky.

Other than string orders the only other glaring ordering offense was found in those people not ready to be waited upon. As I pour beers I scan the bar and have a pecking order in mind of who I am going to serve first. It goes regulars first and then it switches to first come first serve. I generally plan out the next five people I am going to help even before I have approached any of them. If I ask you what you want and you look away to consult a friend or beer list then by the time you face the bar again all you will see is the back of my head. I will return, eventually, but that pecking order I just talked about, you’re now at the bottom.

The ultimate asshole award for the day goes to that idiot I personally had kicked out myself. While I doubt he lacks the ability to read I hope he gets a hold of this because I have a message for him.

“No, bro, I didn’t think you were drunk enough to be cut off, I just plain didn’t like you. Your constant groping and sexual harassment of every woman who walked up to bar coupled with your loud and obnoxious voice/laugh/personality/presence/face/existence was what did you in. Had I not been stuck behind the bar I would have grabbed that cell phone you were shit talking me on and shoved it so far up your ass your tongue would be text messaging every time you spoke.”

Despite these minor complaints Churchill’s Renaissance III, The Revenge of Ivan, proved to be the greatest day in the history of beer just as some brilliant writer predicted a week ago. What made it so great was the food, the beer and most importantly the people, both staff and clientele. For that I thank and applaud everyone involved in such a wonderful event. The next big pub event will be St. Patrick’s Day, which compared to the distinguished esteem of Churchill’s Renaissance will be a bro-infested slop fest filled with strewn jello shots and people’s wives being left for dead on bathroom floors. Can’t wait!


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