Bitching Malachi….


I do not self edit unless a customer seems kinda scary. I repeat, I do not self edit, these are the ways I respond to dumbasses.

CUSTOMER: “Well, I guess I’ll have to watch dishes”…

ME: Um, no, the dishwasher doesn’t play well with others. He’s chained to  a wall and we feed him bar mat shots and bad tippers.

CUSTOMER: (obviously in his 50’s/60’s) Man, you’re liquor prices are so damned expensive!
ME: (turning to his 50’s/60’s wife) Miss, I’m going to need you to calm your father down.

CUSTOMER: “What’s free?”
ME: “Your mom”/ “Water”/ “Excuse me….?”

CUSTOMER: snaps fingers/whistles
ME:—-1,000 yard glare of death— “I know your mother raised you with better manners”/”I know you weren’t raised in a barn”/”I know you just did not do that to me and still expect to get a drink tonight”

CUSTOMER: “How about some free beer?”
ME: “The day I get paid more than 2 dollars an hour/health insurance/a 401K/paid vacation in this industry, I will give you so much free beer you’ll be drunk for a week!”

CUSTOMER: “Hey!”
ME: “That’s not my name.”/ “If you don’t know my name, ‘sir’ is a perfectly acceptable alternative”

CUSTOMER: “Champ!”

ME: “No.”

CUSTOMER:—referencing extremely attractive cocktail waitresses/bartenders—“Man, her tits/ass/pussy/legs are huge/I wanna pound that shit all night long/super tight/would look great behind her ears” while drooling/falling over/trying to grope/pinch/fondle her.
ME: “That’s my sister”. —-death glare—-

CUSTOMER: I want that three shots split 10 ways
ME: I can do 5 ten ways
CUSTOMER: Three 10? (with puppy dog begging face)
ME: 5 ten ways
CUSTOMER: Three 10? (still puppy dog face, now audibly begging)
ME: I know you heard me. I’m not repeating myself.

CUSTOMER: (attractive female, tipsy, begging puppy dog face/pouty lip expression) “Can I please get something even though the kitchen is closed/get my wasted friend a beer/a free drink?”
ME: Look at me sweetheart. (I’m wearing nothing but Express and English Laundry, I’ve got one knee bent in and I’m bouncing around the bar belting out “Defying Gravity” from Wicked) Do you really think that’s going to work on me?

CUSTOMER: (big drunk redneck) I ain’t drunk! I ain’t leaving! Fuck you! I’m gonna’ fuck you up!
ME: —mock wide eyes, hands up—“Oooh! I’m shaking in my boots!”/”I’ve been beaten up by men bigger and better than you”/”Unlike middle school, the big ugly scary kids are on MY side”/ “I’ve got 800 pounds of solid muscle on my side…..still wanna keep pushing this?”

CUSTOMER: (a bar regular) “Get me another drink!”
ME: (five bottles of booze tucked under my arm, three shakers, and I’m trying to pour a pitcher of beer) “I know you see me doing something right now”/”If you want to wait less than 20 minutes for your next Crown and Coke you’ll wait a second”. /”What’s the magic word?”

CUSTOMER: (slurps down an almost full cocktail, shakes it in the air at me as I stand then to them talking to another guest, continues shaking).
ME: (death glare, grab glass, toss it in the trash, resume conversation with other guest).

 

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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. I am so freaking glad I don’t work in a bar. You have the patience of a saint.

    My best was last night when I was telling a table the specials and the guy shoved his hand in my face and snapped, “We’re ordering off the menu.” I snapped back, “Not anytime soon,” and walked away.

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