I never lose my composure, but I almost lost my reference

Because that’s what happens when the owner, who stands swaying back and forth from drinking too much, tells you that you should have “checked with him” before delivering a “you’re done now” check to the DRUNK, BELLIGERENT, SHIT STARTER who has caused a scene in this restaurant before.

THE FUCK, DUDE?  I was hired to run your bar.  That includes assessing customers and cutting off when necessary.  And when this fat (drunk) bitch starts throwing napkins (her favorite past time) I KNOW that this is just the opening act to the larger shit show.  People STILL TALK ABOUT HER ADULT MELTDOWN ALMOST A YEAR AGO.  People still talk about that.  I still laugh with a regular couple who comes in when she propositioned them for some freaky 3 way after the bar.  Gross.  This woman is a problem.  So when I ASK YOU THAT SHE JUST NOT BE ALLOWED IN ANYMORE and you tell me that its “uncalled for” I interpret that as “I value her patronage more than your employment”.

Ya’ll were right to frantically search for me and see if my purse was still there, cause I almost ALMOST just walked out.  I’m not gonna sit there and be harassed by drunk customers who will most certainly start raising their voice and disrupting your Friday night crowd and have the owner DEFEND them.

AND THEN HAVE THE AUDACITY to TEXT me and say she is “gone”  “lol.”   “it’s safe to come back”

SAFE TO COME BACK?!  First of all, how fucking patronizing.  Secondly, I am not away from the bar because of HER I am away from the bar because I am assessing how bad I need this job and reference.  I eat drunk motherfuckers for BREAKFAST.  I could give a FUCK.  I’ve been bartending for 5 fucking years, serving for 6 more..I have had people scream at me..threaten me.  I’ve jumped in the middle of bar fights.  Some fat, sad, alcoholic teacher is not gonna phase me.  Perhaps you had a moment of clarity between your Jameson presbetyrians that “Oh SHIT..I don’t have much staff and Val is kinda the main bartender for the better part of the week”

Yeah, I am.  I’m here 4 nights a week locking up your doors, turning off your lights, taking care of your money and setting your alarm, but fuck me, right?

*Standing at the computer closing a check, and I see something out of the corner of my eye:  dinner napkins thrown behind the bar*



*hands over the check*

-i’m FINE

“You know we don’t do that here”


“And yet you keep coming back ?!”



Sorry, I can’t give you a plastic cup of ice.

-Oh, do you not have cups?  I can go get my own!

No, it’s not that.  One of our servers said they saw you drinking out of the back of your truck in the parking lot.


So, I can’t in good conscience give you a cup of ice knowing you’re going to pour yourself a drink in the parking lot, or god forbid in your car and then drive away.

-You guys don’t want me drinking on your parking lot?

Um, no.  Generally.. no.

Fire; hot, lemon; tart…

“I’d like a lemon drop”

-Ok…a shot, or a martini?

“A martini.  And no sugar”

-No sugar at all?

“No I don’t like it too sweet.”

-So all you want is vodka and lemon juice?


I bring her the martini and carry on with my other duties.  She waves me down a bit later to ask for a sugar packet because it is “tart”.


YOU DON’T SAY??!?!?!%#$&?%^&