Posts Tagged ‘server window’

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.

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The Bad Bartender Chronicles

February 26, 2012

A lot of male bartenders think they are really cool because they work behind the bar. Let’s be honest bartender gigs are hard to come by, especially for men, so any person who has achieved that position should be proud. However, there is a line that is not to be crossed and unfortunately the prestige of pouring drinks gets the better of a lot of guys. These self-entitled fraudulent drink peddlers make the customer feel as if getting served by them should be viewed as an honor no matter how shitty or rude the service is.

I walk up to a bar and the bartender greets me with attitude and a sneer. While I order he looks past me to check out a waitress who is walking by. I order a vodka tonic but instead of hustling to mix my drink he casually walks over to the waitress he was just checking out. He says something that is in his mind witty and gets a courtesy laugh out of the girl who knows if she doesn’t play along her drink tickets will be ignored all night. He then walks over to the ice well and slowly pulls out a glass. A friend of his walks up to the bar and stands next to me. They slap each other five, bang knuckles and then act as if their hands have just exploded. There is an exchange of bros and then he goes and pours this person a beer.

As he hands the beer off they discuss whether or not the waitress is a slut. I can feel myself becoming dumber by listening to these two talk, as if stupidity were an air born disease. He scoops some ice out of the well and without taking his eyes off his buddy goes to put the ice in my drink. Half goes in the glass, the other half spills on the bar. He doesn’t seem to notice.

I hear the printer behind the bar print out a server ticket and watch as he tells his friend to hold on a minute. He then rushes to grab the ticket. Once he does he sets two glasses next to mine. He fills them carefully with ice and then proceeds to pour nice, stiff drinks. He rushes off to put them in the server window. When he returns he picks up his conversation with his buddy. He finally fixes my drink which consists of four ice cubes, half a shot of vodka and a whole lot of tonic. He slams it in front of me and says five dollars.

At first I’m not even sure if the drink is for me because he hasn’t looked at me or paused his conversation. I stare at him and wait for confirmation that we are actually involved in some sort of transaction. A minute passes before he finally looks down at me.

“What bro? I said five dollars.”

I slide him a twenty. He holds it in his hand as his buddy and him now discuss the latest UFC fight. Five minutes pass. Finally, I interrupt and ask for my change. Both of them stare at me with looks of disgust. The bartender scoffs and slowly walks over to the register. He hands me a ten and a five and resumes the conversation with his buddy. To me that means he is either expecting me to not tip or tip him five dollars. Neither of these is a realistic option. I know this arrogant schmuck deserves to be stiffed but not tipping isn’t in my physical makeup. I interrupt his buddy and his meeting of the minds again and ask for change for a five. I receive another scoff and after another minute of conversation he finally obliges. I leave a dollar and curse my tip karma obsession as I realize my tipping this waste of human flesh is simply reinforcing that bartenders can be as shitty or rude as they want and still receive a tip.

However, that dollar is the last one he will get from me as I would rather drink a warm forty of Olde English with a homeless toothless crack head on a street corner than ever stepping foot in that guy’s bar again. This self-entitled dickbag is one of many like him out there so beware. I urge you to be on the lookout for this sort of behavior and when you see it simply leave the establishment you are at and never go back.


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