Top 10 Ways to Piss Off Your Bartender

Categories: douchebaggery

bartender opener.jpg
Rob Boudon
By Rick Giordano
When I'm not raking in the millions writing for music blogs, I, much like many of my fellow artsy-fartsies and anti-professionals, have to earn my dough in the service industry. Working directly with customers in any job can be a frustrating experience, especially in the bar industry, where customers are often carrying a small solar system of booze in their bellies. Even more difficult is tending to these folks in a loud venue while a band plays 8 feet away. Every bartender wants to get you your drinks quickly and accurately -- working for tips, it's in our best interest to do so -- but the customer is not always right. Sometimes, the customer is a big, goddamn-wrong pain in the ass, in fact. Here are the top 10 ways to get on our bad sides.

See Also:
*Top 15 Things That Annoy the Shit Out of Your Local Sound Guy

10. Speak quietly when talking to me, or order anything overly complicated.
Hey, you see those snappily dressed dudes onstage playing through that giant wall of speakers right there behind you? Well, it's a bit louder than your little mumbly mouth is right now. I want to get you your drinks, but I can read lips about as well as I can understand sign language from a space ape, so you've got to work with me here.
"VOD-KAA . . . TONNNN-ICCC." This I can understand.
"BUUUDD . . . WHYYYY . . . ZZZEEERRR." I'll have that for you in a jiffy, sir!
"A friend of mine had this drink one time called Ozzy Osbourne's Balls, and I want that, but I want it to be purple instead of green because I'm a Virgo [or some dumb shit like that], and instead of a glass, can you serve it in a Willie Nelson bobblehead and fucking blah blah fart . . ."
One Stag coming right up!

9. Get mad if I get to someone else first when you think you are "next."
Do you have a little ticket in your hand that says No. 67, and I just helped ticket 68? No, because this isn't the fucking post office. Contrary to popular belief, bartenders are from the planet Earth, and we and do not have eyes in the back of our heads. Sure, I'm doing the best I can to pay attention to what's in my peripheral vision and get to people in the order they step up to the bar, but considering that I'm grabbing bottles, answering questions, mixing things, exchanging money, telling my bar back we're out all out of Three Olives, DUDE, again and a million other things all at once, you really should be surprised whenever I don't make a mistake.

8. Ask me my name with ill intent.
My name? It's Rick; nice to meet you! You wanna be pals? Oh . . . no, you wanna yell my goddamn name at me to get my attention when I'm busy because you know it will. You clever bastard. Here I am, thinking someone is maybe treating me like a human being for once, but no, they just want something more effective than "hey, bartender!" to yell at me to get their drinks slightly faster. It's that Carrie-covered-in-pig's-blood feeling of deceit that's insulting on such a personal level. The shitty thing that you are angrily shouting at me is my own name? That's just evil, man. Have fun waiting for that drink, chump.


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1 comments
JackGrimshaw
JackGrimshaw

Jeez, a li'l hungover and cranky, are we, Rick? A pretty bad night, tips-wise? I wonder why! If I ever plan on bar-hopping in St. Louis, okay if I eml you first? That way, I know WHERE TO FUCKIN' AVOID ...

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