Don’t Answer the Phone: It’s the Bitch From Hell

Posted: August 22, 2011 by divebardiva in Daily Ramblings, Viva La Douche

Okay people, this is what’s going down today. First and foremost, I apologize for my lack of posts this past week. However my Homorita was in town — and clearly destroying my liver in a swift and precise fashion took precedence.

I did something I very rarely do and took a Saturday night off to celebrate his arrival (and make more time for said liver destruction). I was back on the horse last night and realized that more than one thing had gone terribly awry in my absence.

First of all, my sis was working her maiden voyage of waitressing on a Saturday night. As things have a tendency to do in the dive bar business: Why should one thing go wrong when three would be so much more entertaining? For whatever reason, the computer did not want to recognize her. Her checks wouldn’t ring up, her tabs would disappear and no drink orders could be sent to the bartender and had to be called out.

There were also not one, but three — yes, you heard right — three bar fights. Now, my one wish in this world is never to have my Bossman in an agitated state. Things can spiral out of control rather quickly. Also, as I have mentioned previously, he may look mean but inside he is delicate and I don’t need people fucking with his Chi on the weekends I am not around.

Clearly, however, none of this was going to be the case. I have to say that Fridays and Saturdays are completely different crowds. Fridays are not my favorite shift. In fact, I’ve been told that no one is a fan of Fridays simply because of the twilight zone of people that come with it.

This brings us to the title of our little story…Bitch From Hell. I’m going to give you the run down of a conversation I had shortly after arriving on Sunday.

Bitch From Hell (BFH): I need to speak to the owner.

dbd: He isn’t in right now.

BFH: You better not be lying to me. I called earlier, and he wasn’t in then either.

dbd: Yes, that is fairly commonplace.

BFH: Well, I was charged three times on my credit card last night.

dbd: Oh yes, I see your name and number here. It has all your information. We were having some issues with the compu…

BFH: Listen, you probably weren’t even there last night so quit lying to me. That girl was trying to rip me off. You better have the owner call me now, or I will get all of these charges taken off my card.

dbd: I’m sorry, but clearly you have confused me with someone you can scold like a teenager. I was not in fact working but was called three times at home due to problems with our touchscreen system. Nothing will be going through your bank that you did not sign for and that we do not have a slip for. If your signature is wrong, you can dispute this with your bank. However, nothing will be done about that at 7 pm on a Sunday because clearly the banks are not open. Calling your waitress a thief and me a liar really aren’t helping you get this problem resolved either.

BFH: Just have the owner call me.

dbd: Will do. Have a wonderful evening.

Okay, I am pretty sure that you can see what the problem is here. Bitch From Hell is freaking out. Since she has clearly never had a customer-service job with that attitude, she needs someone to incur her wrath. Most of you who know me realize that I am really not going to allow that to happen.

The Bossman came down shortly thereafter and we looked at the CC batch out from Saturday. Sure enough, she was only charged once for the tab in question. And as a PS on this, why the fuck are you calling your bank on a Sunday night to constantly check your balance? Get a life, ya crabby bitch. And let me just say that I sincerely hope whatever crawled up your ASS dies in short order.

So that’s it for today people. Once I piece together more of the scandal from the weekend I will entertain you yet again with my shining wit and probably a lot of swearing.

With Love and Liquor,


  1. Thanks DBD for dealing with the bitches!

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