Asshole Customers…

…I’ve had a few in the past few days. Here are two examples:

This pretty drunk guy is downing beers. Lindsay, a waitress more experience than I, tells me to ask him if he wants another beer. I go up and ask and without looking at me, he says yes. I get it for him, come back, and tell him in my perky, customer service voice, “That will be $10, please!”

“I’m gonna pay with a card,” he slurs.

“Sir, can you please pay cash? My shift is ending and I can’t open any tabs right now.” (If I were to open a tab at that moment, a night waitress would get my tips)

“What?” He finally looks up at me. “This is bullshit!”

“Excuse me?”

“This is bullshit. I don’t….fucking…..this is fucking bullshit!”

Me and him go back and forth. He pulls out about 4 bills and goes through them repeatedly for about 5 minutes. Finally, he pulls out a $20 that was hidden underneath a bunch of ones and hands it to me. I hold out the $10 change to him, assuming I won’t get a tip. He just looks at the change, bewildered in his drunken stupor.

“What the fuck is this?”

Trying not to hold in my laughter, I walk away with my 50% tip. Finally, one of these cheap bastards has drunken tipped me! Success! Me and the other waitresses crack up about it, as they were watching the whole scene a few feet away.

Then, today- a button down comes in. Button downs are guys that work in one of the many office buildings nearby and come in after work. They wear button downs (duh), hence their nickname.

Button down’s name is Alex, and when I bring over his card for him to open a tab to the cashier he tells me this guy is a major d-bag, and to make sure I write down precisely what I charge him for since last time they had to show him every drink he bought since his tab was so expensive. I always do this anyway, so no biggie. He orders the same top shelf drink again and again, in between numerous lap dances. Before one lap dance, I ask him if he wants another drink. He does, so I bring it over the the lap dance area (lap dances take place in the back of the club on this long sofa that lines the wall). I hand it to him, girl getting on his lap. As I turn to walk away, I feel a hand on my ass.

I turn to him. “That wasn’t you that just touched my ass, was it?” I ask. I really can’t tell, because there was a guy sitting near him that also could have done it.

“What?” he asks, seemingly surprised. I can’t tell if it was him or not, so I say, “Ok, I didn’t think so,” and walk away.

When he comes back to his table, I ask him if he wants anything else and he orders another drink. We pretend what just happened didn’t, and he starts talking to me, telling me how he went to Yale, and works in finance, and lives in an expensive area downtown, and blah blah blah. I totally lie to him about where I love, my nationality, etc. At the end of our convo, he asks if we can go out sometime after work. I tell him no.

He tipped 25%, though I think for the ass feel I deserved at least 45%. Better luck next time.

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