Tales from the Boobie Bar!
Tuesday afternoon, this real piece of work came in.
Older white dude. Dressed nicely (pressed shirt, tie, and khakis). He'd only tip a dollar, but expect you to stand there and listen to him talk for upwards of 10 minutes or more (time is money, sweetheart).
During the course of our conversation, he proceeded to argue with me about my stage name. It's Kestrel, which is a type of bird. I explain that to him, and he told me that it wasn't a bird. I told him yes, it is-a type of falcon, to be more specific. He still tried to argue-at which point I noticed he had a Dash (cell phone that is Internet-ready), so I told him to look it up. He did. And got upset with me for knowing something he didn't @_@
Then he tries to scare me by saying he was in prison for murder, served 15 years and got out. I couldn't really care less-but he sat there and looked at me expectantly, waiting for a reaction. The reaction of "Sucks to be you then, haha" wasn't really what he wanted, I guess. And then he tells me he made up the prison story. Whatever. I move along the bar.
I got off work at 7pm, and another dancer/bouncer S walked me out. We see the above moron backing up his car-and we see him back it right into the DJs motorcycle o.o S and I yell and wave to get him to stop. Luckily (for him), he only bumped it. S calls inside to tell the DJ as she and I walk to my car.
And the guy starts yelling to us. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEY where you pretty ladies GOIN'? :D:D:D"
"...Home." (tip: don't try to talk to the dancers in the parking lot. We're armed.)
"Maybe I'll come with you :D:D:D"
"Nnnnnnnnno. Bye bye now."
I got in my car, locked the doors, and idled until the asshat left.
Way to be creepy, dude.
Okay.
If you're told to leave, then leave.
Five guys came in. They looked rather young, so the bartender asked for ID. Only two of the guys could produce any. The bartender said that those two could stay, but the other three could not.
They got belligerent and insulted her. The bouncer saw, and came up beside her. The guys got loud. Supercool!Manager, another bouncer, and the DJ all came up as well. For a minute, it looked like we were about to have a good old-fashioned bar brawl-but cooler heads prevailed, and the guys were 'escorted' out.
The bar is not going to risk it's existence just so underage assholes (not that everyone underage is an asshole, just ones like these guys) can get drunk and stare at tits.
Goddamit, in my day, we raided our parent's liquor cabinet and our dad's porn stash! Kids today =P
Also, stop asking us for drugs.
Seriously.
That shit gets old.
I don't know how they do things round YOUR way, buddy, but last I checked a club is a buisness. As such, we are professional. There are cameras everywhere (yes, everywhere) to keep the girls safe AND to make sure no customers or employees are attempting to do drugs. Employees who come in stoned/tweaked off their asses? Fired, or suspended for at LEAST a month. Usually more.
A guy went up to the DJ tonight and said, "Hey man, you know where I can get some shit?"
Without missing a beat, the DJ replies, "Try the bathroom. People leave 'shit' in the toilet all the time."
xD
And lastly, an annoying suck.
A husband and wife come into the club to drink and have a good time. Great! Only problem is, the husband is a complete douchebag.
Wife puts up with it for quite awhile. Finally, I guess she reached the end of her rope and snapped.
"That's it-I'm leaving you. I'm going to my sisters-my lawyer will call you. Goodbye, asshole!" And she leaves-they'd taken separate cars to the club, she took hers and left.
The man leaves. Then, the following night, calls the police and files a missing persons report on her, citing my bar as the last time she was seen.
So we had Staties crawling all over our bar the next day. Why does this suck? Because people see police cars (ESPECIALLY State Police cars) in the lot and think "Fuck that shit, I'll go to a different bar." So half a shift with no customers, all because this dumbass couldn't accept that his wife left him and decided to get the cops on her to be spiteful.
Thanks, prick.