Walk the Line
It was early Saturday, and the bar was slow. My southern state had an away game, and we weren't expecting much business. I was on the bar and the floor and the only people in the bar were four gentlemen at stage one. One of my dancers, "Dawn", was there with me and we were talking as I was waiting on these people.
"Hi guys, what can I get you to drink?" I was standing directly behind the gentleman on the far right. As I took his order, he turned his body to face me and put his hand on my ass. I gave Dawn a shocked look and stepped back, quickly.
"Please don't touch me," I said, while giving him a stern look. Usually when I reprimand someone, they will quickly apologize and all is well. This jack-ass; however, obviously felt that the rules didn't apply to him.
"What, is that not allowed, or something?" He asked this question in a condescending manner, the corners of his mouth turning up into a sneer.
"Yeah, it's not allowed. In fact, it's illegal, so don't do it again." I was getting pissed by this point.
"Well, is there a line or something because I don't see it." As he's saying this, he's elbowing his buddies next to him, as if this is all one big production for his amusement only. My only comfort is the look of embarrassment on his friends' faces.
"You'll see the goddamn line when we throw your ass out the front door for touching me!"
I turn on my heels and march to the DJ booth where Manager is DJing.
"Hey, Manager, see that guy at stage one?"
Manager nods in agreement.
"Keep an eye on him, he's going to be a problem."
I fill Manager in on the situation and head back to the bar. Soon enough, Mr. Jack-ass heads to the bar, obviously wondering why I never took his drink order. Manager, on top of his game tonight, starts down the DJ booth and makes it behind my bar as Mr. Jack-ass is approaching the front.
"Hey, can I get a bud light?" Mr. Jack-ass is addressing Manager, another thing I hate. Why is it that with some men, if there are two people behind a bar of opposite sex, they will automatically ask the man for something? I should write a paper about it.
There I go, digressing again...
"She's the bartender," Manager nods his head in my direction, "she'll get you what you want."
"So, are you the manager?" Mr. Jack-ass asks, suddenly the epitome of respect and well-behavior.
"Yeah," Manager responds.
"Well, is there anyone else who's working the bar right now?" Gee, Jack-ass, look around. Do you see anybody else in the bar?
"No, man, she's it." Manager looks over and gives me a wink.
"Well, can I talk to you for a second?" I guess Mr. Jack-ass has a complaint he'd like to file. Too bad nobody bothered to tell him this wasn't corporate.
Manager and Mr. Jack-ass step off to the side of the bar. I can see Mr. Jack-ass gesturing grandly with his hands, and Manager rolling his head around his neck, as if in an effort to pop it.
"Well, maybe you should keep your hands off my wait-staff!" I hear Manager say this, and then take off for the DJ booth. Conversation over.
Mr Jack-ass walks back up to my bar.
"What is your employee number?" He demands this question, fingers tapping on the bar.
I laughed. Hard.
"One. That's my number. I'm number one." I resume stocking the bar, giggling to myself.
Mr. Jack-ass turns red in the face and huffs off. I see him go to his friends and point furiously to the front door.
As they are getting up to leave, one of his friends comes to the bar and hands me a twenty. He winks and walks out.
Note to all: make sure that a bar you are in is actually run by a corporation and not independently owned before you decide to act like a jack-ass! It will definitely save you face.
"Hi guys, what can I get you to drink?" I was standing directly behind the gentleman on the far right. As I took his order, he turned his body to face me and put his hand on my ass. I gave Dawn a shocked look and stepped back, quickly.
"Please don't touch me," I said, while giving him a stern look. Usually when I reprimand someone, they will quickly apologize and all is well. This jack-ass; however, obviously felt that the rules didn't apply to him.
"What, is that not allowed, or something?" He asked this question in a condescending manner, the corners of his mouth turning up into a sneer.
"Yeah, it's not allowed. In fact, it's illegal, so don't do it again." I was getting pissed by this point.
"Well, is there a line or something because I don't see it." As he's saying this, he's elbowing his buddies next to him, as if this is all one big production for his amusement only. My only comfort is the look of embarrassment on his friends' faces.
"You'll see the goddamn line when we throw your ass out the front door for touching me!"
I turn on my heels and march to the DJ booth where Manager is DJing.
"Hey, Manager, see that guy at stage one?"
Manager nods in agreement.
"Keep an eye on him, he's going to be a problem."
I fill Manager in on the situation and head back to the bar. Soon enough, Mr. Jack-ass heads to the bar, obviously wondering why I never took his drink order. Manager, on top of his game tonight, starts down the DJ booth and makes it behind my bar as Mr. Jack-ass is approaching the front.
"Hey, can I get a bud light?" Mr. Jack-ass is addressing Manager, another thing I hate. Why is it that with some men, if there are two people behind a bar of opposite sex, they will automatically ask the man for something? I should write a paper about it.
There I go, digressing again...
"She's the bartender," Manager nods his head in my direction, "she'll get you what you want."
"So, are you the manager?" Mr. Jack-ass asks, suddenly the epitome of respect and well-behavior.
"Yeah," Manager responds.
"Well, is there anyone else who's working the bar right now?" Gee, Jack-ass, look around. Do you see anybody else in the bar?
"No, man, she's it." Manager looks over and gives me a wink.
"Well, can I talk to you for a second?" I guess Mr. Jack-ass has a complaint he'd like to file. Too bad nobody bothered to tell him this wasn't corporate.
Manager and Mr. Jack-ass step off to the side of the bar. I can see Mr. Jack-ass gesturing grandly with his hands, and Manager rolling his head around his neck, as if in an effort to pop it.
"Well, maybe you should keep your hands off my wait-staff!" I hear Manager say this, and then take off for the DJ booth. Conversation over.
Mr Jack-ass walks back up to my bar.
"What is your employee number?" He demands this question, fingers tapping on the bar.
I laughed. Hard.
"One. That's my number. I'm number one." I resume stocking the bar, giggling to myself.
Mr. Jack-ass turns red in the face and huffs off. I see him go to his friends and point furiously to the front door.
As they are getting up to leave, one of his friends comes to the bar and hands me a twenty. He winks and walks out.
Note to all: make sure that a bar you are in is actually run by a corporation and not independently owned before you decide to act like a jack-ass! It will definitely save you face.
posted by Jennifer at 12:57 PM
17 Comments:
I love that his friend tipped you and winked! At least they realize he's a jackass too. . .
love your stories! you're a hoot!
I love how your manager always backs his employees, I wish more work places functioned like that. If I knew who it was who came up with "the customer is always right", I'd have him shot.
yeah, i have a great boss
Ha! What an idiot. At least they tipped well.
That was pure class that they tipped you, but doesn't it make you wonder why the heck they hang out with this guy?
Kudos to your manager - and I snarfed when I read your "employee number" then I realized....but of course!
You rock!
Don't mind me, I'm sitting here laughing my ass off....
Yeah, his friends know he's a jerkoff. I'm guessing they hang with him for a variety of reasons, one of which is they haven't figured out how to get rid of him. And not have the evidence show they buried him in a shallow grave.
Hopefully, they'll do what my husband and his friends did with their...acquaintance....that they no longer hang out with. They stopped taking his calls, stopped answering his e-mails, and eventually blocked both.
Employee number one, OMFG, I love it!
Dear Strip Club Server!
As i read your stories, i see a lots of things like "cut off", or "your dancers". So there need to be a special vocabulary and some hierarchy. Can you write about these things? Or, if you wrote, tell me where i find it?
Thanks
"Mr. Jack-ass is addressing Manager, another thing I hate. Why is it that with some men, if there are two people behind a bar of opposite sex, they will automatically ask the man for something? I should write a paper about it."
I am male, and personally, when I'm out, I prefer to get my drinks from a beautiful woman. The fact that she knows how to make them kicks her up a notch in my book. Does that make me any more sexist than this guy? I think you could make a case either way.
Of course, I follow a no-touch policy in general.
"Friends don't let friends touch wait staff."
we could always level the "playing feild" by grabbing them by the sack and twisting as a reply to the ass grab, but then some jerk would think that was forplay.... and your right, touching is ILLEGAL in damn near every state (thank gawd!).
The worst part about Mr Jack Ass, is that you know he has a wife at home that doesnt let him get away with this stuff.
apparently, Mr J.A. has never seen a pissed off waitress in action :) kudos!
GJ
Great post. At my regular bar we get jackasses like that touching the servers occasionally. Some people think wait staff are less than human, whether its a chain restaurant, a strip club or a fast food place.
I'm always apalled when the female servers at the pizza joint where I work tell me the treatment they receive, both verbal condescension and the occasional pat or what have you. And more apalling is that the managers will balance WHO the customer is against whether they will intervene. The "oh, that's just Johnny"-type excuse is something I've heard more than once. It really reveals how much a business actually values their employees, no matter how many inspirational moments they try to work into the staff meeting. They asked me to move up to management several months ago and I firmly declined, because I knew that I would never be allowed to be the type of manager that it seems that you have.
"What's your employee number"?! What mighty corporate office 1-800 number was Jack-ass going to call to complain about you? Do you work for Strip-Mart? Lord, what a moron.
Great blog, btw!
haha, nice post. i hate when men touch women they dont know
L,
Sean
hahahahahaha. loser.
I'm so jealous! Corporate sucks. I work in a fortune 500 restaraunt so they're all about the customer. I live vicariously through you. :o)
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