saturday night at the bar was the sort of night that makes you want to stab someone in the eyeball.
it started with the kid in the yellow shirt, who stared at me impatiently as i took care of a couple that had walked up to the bar just before him. when the couple was all set, i turned my attention to the (very young looking) kid, and asked him how he was doing. it went like this:
me: how're you doing tonight?
him: i want a miller lite.
me, inwardly: that good, huh? oh, and i'm fine. THANKS FOR ASKING.
me, audibly: ok, i just need to see your ID, hun.
him: (motioning toward the couple, and sneering) you didn't check their IDs!
me: yes, i did.
him: well i didn't see you.
me: ok, you're cut off.
i'm sure he probably said something we would have found humorous after that, but i don't know because i walked away.
i mean, first you're going to call me out on my job performance, and then you're going to admit that you can't remember seeing something that happened right in front of your nose less than two minutes before?
next came the guy who wanted me to f@#* him up the a$#.
no, i'm not kidding.
i was just behind the bar, minding my own business, when a very attractive man with a mullet and a brightly colored bud light t-shirt from the 80's walked up.
him: (sleazily) what's your name?
me: (hands on hips, of course) what's YOUR name?
him: my name doesn't matter.
me: well, my name doesn't matter, either.
him: your name DOES matter, because i'll need to know it when i yell for another beer.
me, inwardly: i love my job.
he then extends his hand across the bar, and says his name. i oblige, tell him my name and reach to shake his hand. unfortunately, the hand he has offered is what my sister and i like to call 'the dead fish hand.' you know, he didn't do anything with it. it was just hanging there. it was not a handshake.
men do this to women a lot, and i find it infuriating. now, i know a number of men who think it's inappropriate to shake a woman's hand the same way you shake a man's hand, to which i say WAKE UP AND SMELL THE NEW MILLENIUM. but, even they are better than this guy. when these guys reach to shake your hand, they actually take your hand and turn it a little, sometimes placing their other hand on top of yours as you exchange whatever social niceity the situation calls for. the point is, SOMETHING HAPPENS. sure, they don't really shake your hand, but they don't reach for a handshake and DO NOTHING. which is exactly what this guy did. i hate that crap. can you tell? but, whatever. end of handshake, back to the story.
me: so, what can i get for you?
him: i'll take a labatt. how much will that be?
him: you've got to be kidding me!
me: um, no. sorry. do you still want it.
him: well, i don't know where else to go, so i'll take it.
it should be noted here that there are a million and two bars around. although i don't think any of them have cheaper beer.
i turn around to pour his beer, and he turns to the random guy seated next to him at the bar.
him (to the random guy he doesn't even know): she might as well bend me over and fuck me up the ass for $3.75.
me: sir! i can still hear you!
him: don't worry honey, i wasn't talking to you.
me, handing him his beer: $3.75, please.
this statement was accompanied by what i imagine was a VERY, VERY bitchy glare of hatefulness and wrath.
he went away for a while then, but about a half an hour later i saw him trying to get my attention at the far end of my bar.
him: i'll take another labatt.
me: are you going to swear at me again?
me, louder: are you going to swear at me again?
him: i never swore at you!
me: you said that i might as well fuck you up the ass, because you thought your beer was too expensive.
him: i would never say something like that!
me: sir, you just said it 30 minutes ago.
him: no i didn't.
me: you're cut off.
don't you wish you had my job?