One of the more interesting aspects of bartending is having to cut somebody off. The power is on our hands. When we cut someone off the decision is set in stone. There is no turning back and the entire establishment has to stand behind you. I used to hate doing this but now I accept it as part of the job. You never know how a drunk is going to react when you refuse to serve them more alcohol. Some get confrontational and violent while others feel embarrassed and apologize. I always approach this situation politely, patiently, and calmly…staying just out of punching distance. I have also learned it’s a good idea to have a bouncer stand in the background beforehand…in case something happens. So tonight…this guy in his mid forties bellied up to the bar…6 foot 6 inches, 275 pounds, wearing a blue flannel shirt, sporting a short beard, and proudly displaying the signs of an intoxicated aggressive idiot. Bart…my partner for the night…and I, served him one Crown and Coke…which I short-poured…and monitored him. We quickly decided to cut him off. He ordered another Crown and Coke from Bart and Bart refused service before rapidly walking out of the bar and hiding in the back like a little bitch…leaving me to deal with this now more irate jackass. He demanded an explanation and I explained…over and over. We went back and forth for a few minutes. It was like having a conversation with a mentally retarded eight year old high on medication. The lumberjack finally snapped, stood up off his bar stool, and confidently exclaimed that he was a third degree black belt! I wanted to say that I had used that line through elementary school and it never worked…I still got my ass kicked. Instead I smiled in amusement, told him to hold the thought, reached over for the phone…and called a bouncer. The lumberjack was escorted out just as Bart conveniently reappeared. Thanks Bart…you fucking rookie princess!
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