2:30
My losing streak for films extended to six. I saw Revolutionary Road this week and wasn’t a fan. It was way too much melodrama. Mad Men is a far more entertaining view of the time period and the dissolution of the American dream. On Wednesday I saw Gran Torino which I really enjoyed. Although I understand why people don’t like it, in fact, I was disappointed by the ending, watching Clint play the bad ass for the last role of his life was seriously good times. The last film I saw this week was The Reader. Kate Winslet should win best actress and Ralph Fiennes should be nominated. I liked the film but wanted to love it. I was left feeling a little empty by the end. Alright, enough with the film reviews, let’s talk douche bags.
Happy hour started dead, but turned out alright. Paul, easily the douche bag of the night, walked in asking customers to bum a smoke. I don’t appreciate when one customer bothers another. It’s inevitable in the bar business. Paul asked me for a smoke. I asked, “Are you a customer?” “Yes,” he assured me. He ordered a cider and proceeded to talk to everyone at the bar. When a customer behaves like this, my sphincter immediately constricts. I feel it’s my job to keep an eye on these idiots in case they step over the line. My litmus test was when Paul spoke to Sean and Audra. Sean told me that the brief conversation could’ve gone bad, but they were able to laugh it off. When one customer offered to buy him a drink, I informed him that Paul was done. How do I remember Paul’s name? He introduced himself to me four times. Douche Bag.
I wasn’t feeling great later in the evening. I feared that I was coming down with the same thing everyone else seems to have. Aoife gave my some over the counter Irish Tylenol with codeine. It definitely helped, but my energy was low. Ironically, I believe I was a better bartender because of it. It put me in a really zen place. I had the benefit of experiencing, the rarely seen in the wild, female douche bag. She screeched out her order of a Stella and three shots of Patron, then threw her credit card at me. Although I didn’t seek it out, I got a lot of sympathy. In fact, one woman got up in her grill about her behavior. The benefit of this incident is that both parties tipped well. The best tip of the night turned out to be accidental. A woman ordered a Jack and coke, Stella, and sugar-free Red Bull for a grand total of seventeen-fifty. She took out a fifty and fifty cents When I returned with her change, she was gone. I guess she thought she gave me a twenty. Sweet! I rarely confront customers about shitty tips, but one Indian guy, Slurpee not Casino, ordered a Captain Morgan and coke, vodka tonic, Jack and Diet, vodka Red Bull, three hefeweizens, and two SoCo lime shots. The total was sixty-eight dollars. He closed out his card. I picked up the check presenter and saw the two dollar tip he left. “Rajneesh!” (Not his real name) “Did I forget something?” “Two dollars on that order? Really?” He ended up throwing three singles in. It was a thrill compelling a customer to boost his tip from three percent to seven. Yes, I do have mad skills.
The low point of the evening came late. I was chewing gum when the crunch of metal reverberated through my skull. I tried to recount what I ate all day. Did I consume any alloys? None that I could remember. I took out the piece of gum and stuck to it was a cap/crown/filling. It freaked me out more than caused me pain. That was until I took a swig of cold water, which felt someone jamming an icicle into my gums. Since I don’t have dental insurance, I saved the cap/crown/filling, in case I need to glue it back in. Who really needs a dentist?
Of course, the night wasn’t all bad. There were some great customers. My favorite were the three who fawned over me, begging me to never not serve them. I ended up buying them a round. Remember customers: flattery will get you everywhere. In case you’re curious about the title of this post, it’s the punch line to a bad joke. What time does a Chinaman go to the dentist? You guessed it. Tooth hurty.
