A friend of mine told me I should have called this blog Donkey Tales. In retrospect, that would have been a catchy title, especially considering most people generally act like jackasses in bars. Oh well, I guess I will save that one for my book. The last couple of weeks have been great at the bar. We have been blessed with a very nice and generous crowd. Tonight, for some reason, the tides began to change. Nearly every customer I dealt with was a royal pain in the ass. Halfway through the evening, my tolerance level for incredibly stupid, ignorant, and needy people had fallen dangerously into the deep abyss. My next guest was all three of those wrapped up in one ugly package. This bushpig of a women bellied up to my bar and asked me the prices of our cheapest and most expensive cocktails. As I quickly answered the question, I also handed her a cocktail menu so she could glance through it. She threw it on the bar violently, and in a very sarcastic tone, told me what a great job I had done describing our cocktails. Sorry you fucking warthog…you picked the wrong bartender on the wrong night to play your idiotic game. I looked at her like she was the dumbest person on earth and told her if she wanted descriptions, to ask for descriptions. I than gave them to her in the most disinterested monotone I could muster. This upset her further and she ordered a Bug Light draft! Before I could pour it, she asked me why I hadn’t checked her ID. Umm…because I am pretty sure there is no way in hell someone could accumulate as much fat as you have in under 21 years. When I finally served the beer, she immediately started bitching about the size of the glass. Halfway through her rant, I simply turned my back and walked away to the other side of the bar. She stiffed me and waddled out. Thanks, don’t come again!
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