Another day behind the stick. Everything was going pretty much normally… Easter candy spread out in little bowls on the bar, box of matzoh sitting on the food table next to the bagels so no one felt left out. A regular ordered a Guinness and, of course, the keg kicked. I went downstairs to change it and had the usual Guinness-induced problems: sticky sankey, keg too far from the gas source and silly me, not wanting to throw my back out. So I went back upstairs to the bar to break the bad news to my customer – no Guinness for you – when I encountered quite the sight. A man standing next to a bike which was balanced on its seat and handle bars, with ear buds in, clutching at his heart yelling “ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” I looked inquisitively around the bar and then asked the man if he wanted me to call someone. No, he said, he needed a beer. Alright then. Not what I would want if I was having heart pain, but who am I to judge? So I asked him what he wanted and the annoyance began.
Man: Just whatever, anything is fine.
Me: Well, you need to give me a little something to go on. Do you like hops? A lager? A porter maybe? I have a nice witte.
Man: Whatever. I’ll drink tomato soup.
Me: Um…tomato soup isn’t a beer. How about a Bud?
Man: You got Bud on tap?
Me: Nah, only in the bottle.
Man: How about a Coors Lite on tap.
Me: I have none of that shit on tap. I have Bud, Bud Lite, Heineken, and Amstel Lite all in the bottle.
Man: I’ll have a bud on tap (he simultaneously, and inexplicably, makes a triangle shape in the air)
I turned towards the back bar, rolled my eyes, fetched a Bud from the ice, and put it on the bar. “That’ll be 4 dollars.” He hands me a 50 which I check, twice, to make sure it is legit. Then I go back about my business tending to customers, chatting, washing glasses. I then look up to find the man staring at me. And not just like a casual glance that I happened to catch, but like a for real stare.
Me: Stop staring at me, it’s making me uncomfortable.
Man: (staring) I’m not staring. (Starts laughing, still staring.)
Me: I see you. You’re staring at me right now. And what’s so funny?
Man: Nothing’s funny.
Me: Then why are you laughing?
Man: I’m not (insane giggles…staring)
Me: Okay, you know what? Finish your beer and get out.
Man: You got to ‘spect! (I imagine he meant respect but I was slightly unclear.)
I continue washing glasses and realize that as long as this man is in the bar, I am going to have to be standing right there in front of him because I can’t trust that he won’t do something, or say something, crazy. I then look up and find him still staring at me. I look at my Guinness-deprived customer and acknowledge that he has been watching everything go on, including the man staring at me, through the reflection in the mirror.
Me: Okay, I’ve had enough. I’m giving you 15 seconds to finish up you beer and get out of my bar.
Man: You got to ‘spect! This is my beer. I bought it. I’m drinking it.
He then continues drinking the beer, ever so slowly, while staring at me.
Me: Okay, out. Get out. This is not a discussion. This is not a negotiation. I have had enough of your staring and your bullshit heart attack noises. Get the fuck out of my bar.
The man continues to argue with me then when he realizes that my stare is far more intimidating than his, decides to leave, taking his beer with him. Oh no. No no no no no. So, I walk around the bar and chase him outside. Luckily, my boyfriend and one of his friends is out there. My boyfriend tells this man he can’t have his beer outside and puts his hand on the dudes bike so he can’t get away. I then walk outside and demand he gives me the beer back. He says no, it’s his beer, he has a receipt (my bar does not print receipts). So, I reach across his bike, grab the beer out of his hand and storm back inside. So what does the man do? He calls the cops on me for stealing his beer. Seriously. I have “robbed” – his, word, not mine – his beer from him which was, apparently, his possession even though he was breaking the law by having an open container on the street and making me responsible for a fine if the cops happened to come by. Since it was about 5pm on a Sunday afternoon (Easter, no less!) none of the cops really had anything to do so within about 5 minutes up pulled 5 cop cars and one ambulance to respond to some crazy man screaming about how I had robbed his beer. They blocked the entire 4 lane avenue for about 15 minutes. After they decided that this man was, indeed, out of his mind and sent him on his way, a few of the cops stuck their head in and, jokingly, asked for a Guinness. I was all out.
franklyrebekah 
there has to be a site for 86’ed customers, and if not, you should start one. people can submit pics, stories and tag them for quick guides to douchbaggery. 😉
I love the story and don’t particularly like beer….but the craziness abides.
I agree, an “86ed Customer Hall of Fame” tumblr is a market gap just begging to be filled.