#bartenderrants

Also, you following me gives me more self-esteem than I had while I was in college (although that bar is sitting pretty low, so take from that what you will), and for that, I thank you. This is also my plea to you to never leave me. Never. 

Him: You can't kick me out. hhahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahah

I can play nice and lend an ear on most occasions. The problem with relying on your bartender to work out every one of your issues, however, is that you start expecting something outside of the realistic confines of that relationship. I have a real degree and licensure in mental health. I very well could be your therapist, but you aren’t paying me enough. If you come into my bar and emotionally rape me (i.e. unload your sticky self-loathing onto me without my consent) and in the process try to take me down a few notches for your own benefit (when you realize suddenly I am not living up to those misplaced levels of expectation I warned you about), I will drop you quicker than you can say, “get some friends outside of your local bar.”

Her: I know this is so weird, like I am so weird for doing this, you're probably going to laugh, but like, could I just get like a cup full of olives? Order a damn meal, wench.

Thanks guys, come again.

Nothing shows me I'm doing a great job more than you ripping up the 20s in front of me rather than leave them as a tip.

Ooooohhhh. You think saying a 14 year old looks like a 17 year old makes you LESS creepy!! Nope! You shouldn’t differentiate between 14 and 17 this way. A 14 year old who looks like a 17 year old STILL looks like a kid. You see? Now you’re gross. Now you're just a gross, gross daddy.