Tag Archives: 86ed

Rebekah vs. Rob, (Documented) Battle #2

17 Jan

So you know how sometimes on bad television shows one of the male characters will say something along the lines of “I could have any woman I want?”  And you think to yourself two things: (a) what a stupid line and (b) could you imagine if people actually said that?  Well you know what I found out a few weeks ago?  They do!  And it is just as ridiculous and amusing and untrue as you might assume!

So remember that time I wrote that blog that I never thought I would have had to write about bringing your own booze into the bar?  And how, you know, you probably shouldn’t bring your own booze into the bar?  Well, it just so happens that the star of that post is definitely my least favorite customer ever and might actually also hold the title of person I like least in the world.  Well, of the people I’ve met, that is.  So he gets to star in not one but two blog posts! His name is Rob.  Rob is just like, not nice.  He thinks he loves women but he actually hates us.  He doesn’t respect us, he thinks we are all stupid and, as I learned the other day, he thinks he is irresistible.  Men, am I right?

So my issues with this guy goes back years.  He is one of those guys who just harasses women.  He thinks he is god’s gift and therefore that anyone in possession of breasts and a vagina is lucky if he decides to give them the time of day.  Only the thing is, he is loud, obnoxious, and extremely fond of chanting which is something that I honestly thought went out of style when people outgrew fraternity membership.  Apparently I was wrong, again.  So, whatever, he incorrectly thinks he’s a ladies man.  Okay that wouldn’t be so bad except that whenever he is in my bar I have to watch him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t make women uncomfortable.  As an aside, I think that the mark of a good bar is one in which women, either alone or in groups, feel safe and comfortable coming in and hanging out.  I love nothing more than to see a few single ladies at the bar, not out to meet anyone, just there to chat with the bartender or read their book or watch sports or whatever.  If you have women flying solo, I think you are doing something right.  At my bar, we do occasionally have women there alone and I really don’t want to lose that because some asshat decides that she is reading her book only to pass the time until he comes and impresses her with his wit, good looks, and intellect.  But that’s what Rob thinks.  Women are just going about their lives preparing for the moment when they meet him.  His excellence.  The sexiest and most awesome-est man alive.  It would be maddening if it weren’t so hilarious.

I could practically write a book about how much I don’t like Rob.  I have been hoping against hope that Rob would just melt away or at least move to the Bronx or something.  It seemed like no matter what he did — call me a cunt, annoy women enough that they mouthed the word “help” to me to get him away from them, ask for buybacks, try to sneak away without paying on the regular — he never seemed to get kicked out.  And then he snuck booze in and I was like “this is finally the moment!”  And he had the nerve to not only pretend he didn’t sneak booze in, but to subsequently go over my head and call my boss and tell her how unreasonable I was for accusing him of sneaking the booze in because he would never, ever do that.  Only he did do it.  I don’t like, go around the bar planting bottles of illicit vodka in the bags and coat pockets of people I don’t like.  I’m just observant. Anyway.  That was a lot of build up for the following story:

So last Thursday I approached the bar on my way to start my night shift and I heard it.  From the street.  The voice.  The chanting and the yelling and the general obnoxiousness.  I walked into the bar, happily greeting the people I enjoy (which, honestly, is like 95% of the people) and then I arrived at him and he was  all “hello, Rebekah” in a tone that made it abundantly clear that he felt like he could do whatever the fuck he wanted and I just stared back.  I then proceeded behind the bar and told my coworkers that, after 8pm when I took over, he was not getting served because he was the ass who brought his own liquor in.  They both essentially responded with the same thing:

It was that guy?!?  I wish I had known because he is such a fucking douchebag.

Eventually he came up to the bar to order a drink from me.   I told him he wasn’t getting served.  A heated conversation followed which I will not recount for you.  He then had the nerve to walk over to my coworker and order a drink from her, in secret, because obviously I would never notice.  Except what he didn’t know is that when I am working I have super sonic hearing!  (Also, she told me.)

Me:  You tried to order a drink from my coworker? What part of you are not getting served do you not understand?
Rob:  I did not.
Me:  You are such a liar!  She just told me you did and also, I heard you.  You know what? Just leave.  You know where the door is.

But I guess he didn’t actually know where the door was because he wouldn’t leave.  He wouldn’t leave because he is a fucking idiot who thinks that the world was made for him.  And then he tried to argue with me about it which is never a good idea.  Not only do I hold a grudge, and not only do I never forget when people are disrespectful shitbags to me and the place I work, but I also HATE when I ask politely for someone to leave and they fight about it.  This is my house, motherfucker.  Get out of my face.  But oh, he spends so much money in the bar and he has been coming for years and how dare I and all the other shit.  I decided to spell it out for him.  I explained to him exactly why I don’t want him in the bar.  Not only did he bring his own booze in, but he lied about it and tried to get me in trouble.  He called me a cunt and a bitch a few years back for standing up for one of the many women he harassed over the years.  He feels entitled to buybacks and whenever we have new bartenders he always tries to take advantage of them.  He chases customers out with this chanting and his general obnoxiousness and, oh yea, he always tries to walk away without paying for his drinks.  He got very caught up on the part about harassing women and that’s when he said it.

I could have any woman in the world I want.

I think that I actually might have spit in his face accidentally when I explosively laughed.  Seriously.  It was SO funny.  I then responded with probably my favorite line that I have ever said ever in my entire life:

There are 13 women in the bar right now and only one of them would fuck you and she is your fiance.  I am still trying to figure out how much you paid her to agree to that arrangement.

Meanwhile, his poor fiance was sitting at the end of the bar by herself waiting for him to stop parading around the bar with this stupid trophy that he had won for winning in fantasy football.  I told him that he should just stop making an ass of himself and leave and maybe he should speak to his fiance who he had not acknowledged the entire time she sat at the end of the bar waiting for his sorry ass.  He then said the following thing:

Rob:  Why don’t you talk to her?  I talk to her every day.
Me:  You’re engaged to her!  Jesus, what is wrong with you?!

He then, and I kid you not, asked my coworker out on a date.  While his fiance was sitting like 4 stools away.  And when my coworker said “I thought you were engaged” he actually had the nerve to say “who told you that?”

It’s like, what?!  These people exist?  And they walk around amongst us as if they are normal?!  Man oh man.  Eventually he left.  But not until he gave me a piece of his itsy-bitsy mind.  It took me from like 8 to about 10:30 to get his sorry ass out the door.  He just wouldn’t leave because he thinks he is entitled to be anywhere he fucking pleases.  Oh and, in the meantime, he tried calling, texting and facetiming my boss from the backyard while she was downstairs in the office to bitch about how I wouldn’t serve him.  Being in a room with this guy and his overly inflated ego should be considered a form of torture.  No joke.

Luckily for you this story has a happy ending.  He again called me a cunt (people love that word) and he is no longer welcome in the bar.  As far as I know, anyway.  This guy has like 9 miserable lives so I’m fairly certain he will weasel his way back in which means more stories for you!  Finally, Rob comes in handy.

Tip # 9 on Being a Good Bar Customer

8 Aug

And we’re back with more tips, folks!  If you missed the earlier tips and wish to catch up, look no further than the following links.  Tip #1, Tip #2, Tip #3, Tip #4, Tip #5, Tip #6, Tip #7, and Tip #8.  If you wish to share the tips with your bad bar customer friends in a not-so-subtle way, please do!  Let the missteps of others inform our future booze establishment behavior. And now, without further ado, how not to behave if you get 86ed from a bar.

If you end up getting 86ed from a bar, AKA you are never ever allowed to set foot in there ever again, probably you should just never ever set foot in there again.  Obviously, I would advise you all to never behave in such a way as to get yourself 86ed, but if you do, have some pride.  I don’t know much about other cities in the world, but New York City has a lot of bars.  A lot.  There are bars everywhere.  It is easier to get a drink in this city than it is to do a lot of other things that normal people do in their day.  Here are some examples: it is easier to get a drink than mail a letter because there are basically no mailboxes; it is easier to get a drink than to find a public restroom because there are basically no public restrooms; it is easier to get a drink than go to the grocery store, the pharmacy, or the hardware store because, at least in my neighborhood, you pass at least 8 bars en route to almost any of these other destinations.  The point of this is that if you get 86ed from one bar, there are plenty of other bars you can go to unless, of course, you have gotten 86ed from all of them which is a problem I am not prepared to deal with at this time.  If you have been 86ed from All Of The Bars Ever you should probably talk to someone.

Some people who have been 86ed from my bar get it.  This doesn’t mean that they like it, but they understand that once they are refused service for acting like an asshole, they probably should not show their faces there again.  The thing about the people that get it is that generally, in their case, acting up to such a degree as to get kicked out was such an aberration for them that they are ashamed and take a pretty severe detour around the bar whenever they are in the vicinity so as not to have to relive their embarrassment.  Then there are the people who misbehave, get 86ed, and insist on walking by the bar on the regular, peering in the window and mean-mugging.  No joke.  I can think of two solid examples of this type of person: this one guy who online stalked one of my coworkers and the woman who tried to beat me up over the bar.  It’s as if they think that if they stare at the bar often enough, they will put some sort of hex on the bar and either we will go out of business or we all will suddenly be struck by strange cases of amnesia and will forget ever having 86ed them in the first place and they can happily go back to online stalking and bartender threatening.  Finally, there are the people who have been definitively 86ed from the bar and yet continuously try to come back in.  Today I am going to talk about a few of these people but not all of them because, sadly, there are just too damn many of them for one post.

Sometimes you have a really annoying customer who you hate and you really wish that he (I am just going to go with ‘he’ here because statistics!) would do something that would allow you to kick him out for good.  But no.  He walks ever so close to the line without ever crossing it.  He comes in on drugs.  He does not understand the volume of his own voice or that he is incredibly annoying.  He seems to think that “paying for drinks” is a new phenomenon that simply does not apply to him.  He spills his drinks so much that I am forced to erect safety barriers out of coasters.  Sometimes (okay, one time but I like to think it happened over and over again because it is just so damn funny) he tries to sit on a garbage can and the lid breaks and he falls into the garbage can with his legs and arms sticking out of the top of it and everyone leaves him in there for a little while because they are laughing too hard to pull him out.  Anyway, this guy gave me such a headache but there was nothing I could do about it.  I had to serve him.  But then, one day, he got super wasted, somehow got himself buzzed into my coworker’s apartment building, and proceeded to walk up and down the stairs yelling and knocking on every available door in hopes that she would open hers up.  She didn’t.  This went on for over and hour.  He started at 4:15am.  He subsequently got 86ed from the bar.  That was at least 6 months ago.  And still, all these months later, he regularly tries to get back into the bar.  His most recent attempt came at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon.  I was behind the bar, as I generally am at that time, when he walked in.  The second I saw him I started shaking my head no.  He looked back at me with an expression of complete bewilderment. Then he said, “is she here?” referring to the victim of his late night stair climbing rampage. She was, in fact, there.  Before I got a chance to say “it doesn’t really matter if she is here or not, you are not welcome to drink here” my coworker came flying down the bar, finger wagging, sternly repeating “no!” He began to argue, realized there was no point, tried to look defiant and walked out the door.  I doubt this is the last we will see of him.  But here’s the thing.  He isn’t like, an awful guy.  He just can’t drink. He crossed the line.  He followed someone to her home.  It could just be over but no.  He has to continually make our jobs harder and also make himself look like a complete asshole by repeatedly trying to sneak one by us.  Guess what?  We are not stupid.  Also, if you really need your fix of Raspberry Stoli, I am pretty sure I can point you in the direction of a bar that has some.  Basically, in any direction because there are so many bars.

A few days later on a really weird Thursday night (I think there was probably a full moon…there had to have been a full moon) this other annoying guy walked in.  He is another one of those guys that I am just itching to get rid of but he hasn’t done anything bad enough.  Yet.  He always walks in with the worst people because shitty people, I have found, tend to either be complete loners or travel in packs.  They don’t tend to go around with people who are cool.  Anyway, one of the women he walked in with was too drunk for me to serve.  She couldn’t put her elbow on the bar without it sliding off, causing her to almost fall forward off her chair.  She also would not speak to me without having her hand over her mouth, thereby making her thickly slurred speech that much more difficult to understand.  I was so busy arguing with her about how I would not serve her another drink (why does this happen?) that I didn’t even notice that the guy next to her was someone who we kicked out about a year earlier for screaming at one of the owners when she refused to give him another drink because he had already had something like 12 Bud Lights in an hour and could not hold his head up.  And yet he could scream.  Go figure.  Anyway, in the midst of explaining to elbow lady, for the 5th time, that no, she could not have a beer, I noticed that the guy sitting next to her was Angry Bud Lite Guy.  I told him that not only could he also not have a drink, but he was actually not allowed in the bar.  He then started yelling about how he didn’t want a drink and how he hated the bar anyway and would never actually go there.  I pointed out the flaw which was that he was, at that very moment, in the bar.  This did not go over well.  Anyway, yadda, yadda, yadda, he yelled, I stared at him, he yelled, I threatened to call the police, he yelled some more, then one of our other customers who is SO BIG walked over and sat next to do the dude, causing him to immediately flee the scene. (Sometimes bigger is better, it turns out.) But that’s not all!  Angry Bud Lite Guy then pulled his favorite party trick:  call the bar over and over and over again for the rest of the night, asking for the manager every time he calls even though he is already talking to her and complain about how he never misbehaved in the bar, how he never yells (while yelling) and that we are all stupid.  Again, if you want a Bud Lite, go somewhere else.  Seriously.  Keep your drama to yourself and let me do my damn job.  Staying up until 5am sucks enough without your spit landing all over my face while you yell at me about how you never yell.

So, yea, probably don’t get 86ed but if you happen to, just stay away.  We don’t forget.  Also, as I said before, have some damn pride.