Last nights obligatory bar story:
So, last night I'm slaving behind the bar, as normal ... No. Wait. I never really slave. Actually, it's never THAT hard. Lets try it again.
So, last night the bar was relatively busy ... No. That sounds like the club was overly-busy for a normal evening. Nope. Doesn't work.
So, I was drinking a beer behind the bar all the while waiting for a particularly slow patron to make up their mind as to what drink they were going to order, muttering something cynical under my breath but managing to mask said aforementioned cynicism with my 'angelic smile' ... Ah. Yes. This is the one. Continue, please, ... when one of a regulars walked up and offered me a question. It was pretty much the best question I've heard asked in a while.
It was "Scotty, are you going to throw me out if I punch somebody in the face?"
Now, the fact that he asked me, as opposed to simply doing it, quirked my interest. I smirked and instead of telling them not to, instead of attempting to defuse the situation, instead of playing the professional, I bowed to my weaker need of curiosity and asked, "Who are you going to punch in the face?"
The regular indicated another regular.
Fine, we let them handle their own problems.
"Well, I'd rather you dragged him out by the throat and dealt with it outside, otherwise I'll have to throw you out too," I offered in all honesty.
His response was, "He's too fat."
I shrugged, nodding, as I was in agreement with said statement. "Well, if you have to punch him in the face, you have to punch him in the face, who am I to argue with that?"
See, now I think that this was a delightful bit of political manuevering if I do say so my damn self. I didn't tell him to do it, I didn't even endorse the punchs delivery but I did make it known that sometimes a man has to grasp hold of the reins, to take charge of their own destiny, carpe diem, sieze the day, rock the fuck out, what have you.
Anyway, the guy finished his drink, thanked me (which was classy), walked over and moved a person out of the way with a polite 'excuse me' (which showed another smidgen of class, which I applaud) ... and punched the guy dead in the face.
I laughed, just for a bit.
And then I threw them both out.
I think I'm going to hell.
Edited - due to lack of ability to spell this afternoon, apparently.
So, last night I'm slaving behind the bar, as normal ... No. Wait. I never really slave. Actually, it's never THAT hard. Lets try it again.
So, last night the bar was relatively busy ... No. That sounds like the club was overly-busy for a normal evening. Nope. Doesn't work.
So, I was drinking a beer behind the bar all the while waiting for a particularly slow patron to make up their mind as to what drink they were going to order, muttering something cynical under my breath but managing to mask said aforementioned cynicism with my 'angelic smile' ... Ah. Yes. This is the one. Continue, please, ... when one of a regulars walked up and offered me a question. It was pretty much the best question I've heard asked in a while.
It was "Scotty, are you going to throw me out if I punch somebody in the face?"
Now, the fact that he asked me, as opposed to simply doing it, quirked my interest. I smirked and instead of telling them not to, instead of attempting to defuse the situation, instead of playing the professional, I bowed to my weaker need of curiosity and asked, "Who are you going to punch in the face?"
The regular indicated another regular.
Fine, we let them handle their own problems.
"Well, I'd rather you dragged him out by the throat and dealt with it outside, otherwise I'll have to throw you out too," I offered in all honesty.
His response was, "He's too fat."
I shrugged, nodding, as I was in agreement with said statement. "Well, if you have to punch him in the face, you have to punch him in the face, who am I to argue with that?"
See, now I think that this was a delightful bit of political manuevering if I do say so my damn self. I didn't tell him to do it, I didn't even endorse the punchs delivery but I did make it known that sometimes a man has to grasp hold of the reins, to take charge of their own destiny, carpe diem, sieze the day, rock the fuck out, what have you.
Anyway, the guy finished his drink, thanked me (which was classy), walked over and moved a person out of the way with a polite 'excuse me' (which showed another smidgen of class, which I applaud) ... and punched the guy dead in the face.
I laughed, just for a bit.
And then I threw them both out.
I think I'm going to hell.
Edited - due to lack of ability to spell this afternoon, apparently.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
azrael_abyss:
hahaha. that's great. We do that stuff at our bar (well the one i go to, because i don't work at a bar). all regulars are really polite and ask before doing anything even slightly retarded, but normally those retarded things are to non-regulars. Next time i'm in tampa i might need to swing by your bar.
vegavenom:
That is the best bar story I have heard in a long ass time! 