the conclusion of the saga….

Since I didn’t post the entire saga up till today on this blog (instead doing so on BitterWaitress) here’s the saga that leads to me walking into a courtroom in 2 hours the next town over.

 So, last night, I was bartending at the Pub, having a rocking and rolling good time as we’re even steadier in business than the past few weeks, showing that our numbers are on the upswing (more moolah for me and the other bartender). Everyone is having fun. An attractive group of what I assume are “working girls” (the ones who haven’t turned to meth and have someone rich to pay for tweezing their eyebrows and some pretty nice threads) come up to the bar and in that obnoxiously highpitched voice some roid-raging douchebag told them ten years ago was sexy that all “working girls” seem to have sweetly ordered a long list of drinks and shots.

Quickly snatching a pen from my pocket I started jotting down the list on the back of my hand, and in them middle of ordering while digging through her purse she found her credit card and pressed it to my hand. (She mentioned how it was her divorce party so when I saw a guy’s name on the card I didn’t really think anything of it…mistake #1) I took it in my right hand, slipped it into my left fist and kept writing. Her initial order was about $100. Ka-ching! (I preauthorized the card for the amount before I poured a drop of alcohol and kept a tally pad to make sure that all of my splitting of Crown Royal, Peach Schnapps, etc., was exactly on the count since inventory was the next day….)

Through it all, person A who did all the ordering remained pretty composed and “with it” despite all the shots she was buying her small coterie. Thus, since they were just dancing and chit-chatting I did ignore them since they weren’t trouble. Her friends were a little obnoxious but excellent manners all around and no stereotypical “drunk bitch” behavior.

Shit hits the fan when I go to close her tab so her sister can sign and tip while girl A (the one ordering) can run out to her car. I hear whispers that they might be taking turns smoking weed. (They didn’t say anything about the parking lot, that’s what I assumed, for all I knew homegirl was going back to the crib and her sister was following).

A minute later, she’s gone. Card is declined (that is exactly $284 in the bag I am left holding), and her “sister” claims no knowledge of her. She isn’t answering her cellphone, she’s driven away according to witnesses. I get the other bartender and the manager involved, which involves the bouncers and the owner and the cops and there is nothing like freezing in a way-too-thin English Laundry shirt while filling out a statement at 2am! Hooray for initiation! (Bob was managing, I thought he was going to kill me…my owner made my knees buckle when he got in the girl’s friend’s faces and tried to get them to pay the tab)

Essentially, I got conned. I’m pissed because (a) I got conned (I’m pretty smart under it all, I swear), (b) I got conned using a lot of tricks I used to drink underage back in the day, (c) I spent four hours thinking I’d have to pay her tab which translated into being way too stressed to even go to sleep tonight.

When my boss accosted her “sister” and the other two girls in the coterie, the first thing he said was that someone was going to pay and that he wasn’t going to take me for almost $300 (I love my bosses when push comes to shove!) My fellow b/t gets involved while they are waiting on the cops to try and scare them into coughing up the money and leaving, and then, yay, talking with cops time.

Oh, yeah, and person A? The one who handed me the card, ran up the tab and skipped?

She’s a cocktail waitress for our competitor down the road.
UPDATE: court is today, and the thing is that I can make sure I put my best foot forward impression wise, but she can too….after all she looks like Gwyneth Paltrow of the cute and endearingly innocent gap tooth.



My archnemesis....But I didn't steal 300 dollars and never got involved in credit card fraud bullshit...didn't spark a bar on bar facebook smackdown....dress like a freaking hooker on the night I decided to talk about where I work and then steal 300 dollars....And I don't NOT tip for shit like her. And I look freaking amazing for court....Your honor, for my next witness I would like to call Karma, who is a bitch. And let the record show that the defendant's hair is trying to attack me.



About Malachi the Drink Slinger

Finally transferring to that four year school in January, my goals made, my life set, the blinders dropped, my past signed and sealed, my future bright and airy, a writer, a thinker, a feeler, someone who is enthralled by beauty, an artist worth slightly more than two shits, a lover, a fighter, a person on the way to become the person I have always wanted to be....

One comment

  1. How could you be responsible for any of this? She gave you a card and you accepted it in good faith. It isn’t your job to check everyone’s credit card balance.

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