I’ll Rip Out Your Throat…

Posted: March 1, 2011 by divebardiva in Daily Ramblings, Viva La Douche

…and go to lunch.

Listen dumbass…I am sick and tired of you self-entitled little fucks thinking that you are in charge of anything around here. This is an oldie but a goodie.

It’s around the end of the night, as a matter of fact it’s twenty to two, and we close at two on the dot. We’re always so busy on Saturday nights that we don’t even give last call. Clearly if we have your credit card behind the bar, we will ask if you would like another before we close you out because that’s how we roll around here.

But do not for one motherfucking second think you can come in here at 2:45 and demand not only last call but two extra rounds on top of it.

As I move down the bar like my ass is on fire asking all my peeps if they would like another and handing out tabs, you and your buddy roll in. As you saddle up to the end of the bar, I continue what I’m doing while you keep yelling “Hey” and trying to get my attention. When I have finally finished what I started out to do, I come over to you and ask what you would like. This is where you make mistake number one.

Dickhead: Well it’s about fucking time. I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes. (Which is a flat out lie)

Me: You’ve got two choices, you can order right now or I can turn around and walk away.

Dickhead: Give me six beers.

Me: There are only two of you…I’ll give you four if you can drink them fast.

Dickhead: What the fuck?

Me: Listen, do you want the beers or not?

Dickhead: Why are you being such a bitch? I just saw you give that guy over there a bunch of drinks.

Me: Let me tell you something honey, a bitch I may very well be, but I don’t have to give you shit. In addition, the reason that guy just got a bunch of drinks was because he’s been drinking here all night and not trying to pick up 21 year olds in a bad suit at Time Out all night. He has been HERE, drinking, tipping like a rock star and in general not being a monumental dickhead. You really can’t claim the same at this point, so I’m going to ask you one more time…do you want these fucking beers in my hand or not?

Dickhead: Fine I’ll take them.

I open the beers and set them in front of him.

Me: Fourteen bucks.

Dickhead: Don’t expect a tip.

Me: Believe me honey, I saw you coming a mile away and I know a cheap bastard when I see one.

This may have sounded like a harsh exchange but really it was all par for the course on a Saturday night at this particular dive. As a matter of fact, there was usually at least one knock down drag out fight that ended up breaking a glass door. I am not even kidding…EVERY Saturday night.

You would think at this point that this whole problem would have seen its end. But no, Dickhead then made mistake number 2.

At the end of the night, we all left the bar and went to the back to sit on the counter with our after work beers. Me and my favorite waitress were talking and laughing, waiting for security to kick everyone out so we could clean up and get the hell home. Dickhead walked by and smashed all four of his empties into the trash covering the waitress and myself with broken glass.

As I have a tendency to be a little rash when it comes to dickheads, my lovely security was ready for me when I grabbed one of the broken bottles and headed toward the door after Dickhead. He wanted to see the guy get what was coming to him, but not for me to go to jail for stabbing the dumbass. He grabbed my shoulder, took the bottle, patted me on the ass and said…

Security: Go get’em killer.

What happened next was actually quite amazing…

Me: Hey, you stupid fucking douchebag…you think just because you come in here in your suit looking all fucking entitled that you’re going to get waited on before people who have been here spending their money all night long? Do you think because you come to a small town bar in a suit that we are all supposed to be so fucking impressed with you that you would come before any of the hard working guys who have been patronizing this bar not only all night but for years? Do you think calling your bartender a bitch when you don’t get your fucking way makes you anything but a spoiled little bitch? Let me tell you something honey, if you EVER come in here again with that attitude not only will you be kicked out for life but I will rip out your fucking throat and then go to lunch.

The best thing about this whole situation was that he just stood there while I cussed his ass out. I mean it seemed like forever, and he just stood there with his mouth open. After I was finished, he literally looked down at his feet and walked away defeated…and I, thanks to my cute security boy did not leave in handcuffs.

Another successful night for the divebardiva and friends 🙂

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