In case you can't tell, I have just come in from a Pub shift (ignore the "Time posted" at the bottom, it's gone all screwy), it is half past midnight and I am in my Wind-Down mode - i.e: eating crumpets and reading Harry Potter. And it has just occurred to me - especially with the previous entry in mind - how much I BLOODY HATE MY JOB SOMETIMES. Witness:
MORE CONS ABOUT WORKING AT THE PUB:
- People who fuck about and take roughly 6 years to finish drinking their pints after last orders. They continue sitting at tables, despite spotting me hovering around with antibacterial spray and a cloth, shooting glances at the clock. When you see someone literally SWEEPING UP AROUND YOU, surely that is your hint to Get The Fuck Out, no? Has it occurred to you that certain barmaids need their beauty sleep?
- Punters who try to continue a conversation with you while you are desperately trying to listen to someone else who is actually ordering drinks. Look at me closely - do I LOOK like I have eight ears??!
- Those who truly believe that they have the answer to everything from the Credit Crunch to Why Obama won't last 5 minutes as President. Fine, we all have opinions, but just know that when you hold forth on such subjects - I'm. Not. Listening.
- The racism. I had no idea our dear punters were such bigoted pricks.
- Hearing the punters (this very evening) discussing which channel is best for picking up porn. No. No, no, no, no, no. You are senior fucking citizens, I DO NOT want mental images of your floppy wizened cocks and grey balls.
- Those punters who come in at the exact same time and order the exact same drinks and say the exact same things. Life. Get one. Now.
- Similarly, those punters who - like those who shout their orders from their seats - think that we are on such intimate terms that they don't even need to speak. They do not say; "2 pints of bitter, please" but just hold 2 fingers up and raise their eyebrows. Fine. How bout I show YOU 2 fingers, see what happens.....?
- Please and Thank You cost nothing. Therfore we must have some pretty dirt-poor people in our midst.
- The same man who comes in every night and always makes some kind of joke, which I usually always fall for. Funny for the first month. Now plain irritating.
- Again, the jokes. Hear me, lads - you are not remotely HALF as funny as you believe you are. When I smirk and give a little giggle, I am only doing it in the hope that you will keep tipping.
- The one man who frequently tells me about his granddaughter who did the same degree as me, and now works in a bar. In a nutshell, he thinks my degree is worthless and that because I did Drama and not Nuclear Physics, I am thick. Cheers - do you think I need REMINDING about my crap life and how I don't have a career? Go make someone else feel like shit and keep your miserable little bitchy opinions to yourself before I unplug the desk fan and throw it at you. Having said that, he IS a racist, so I don't value his opinion THAT much......
- This one man, whilst pleasant enough, is about 60-something, and wears trainers and combat pants. COMBAT PANTS. Listen pal, you are not 23, and you never will be again. Grow the hell up and dress your own age.
- Like at the L**********, the landlord and lady only ever see me when I'm making a mistake or doing something I shouldn't be - never when I'm being an outstanding example of a Barmaid.
- Anyone who "subtly" coughs, taps the bar with coins, clears their throat, raps on the bar with their knuckles, thuds on the bar with their empty glass, waves their glass in the air or simply stares at me with their eyebrows raised in an attempt to get my attention. Two words: Get. Fucked. Some advice: Learn my name. Use it. Along with the words "Excuse me." It won't kill you.
Yeah, not in a good mood tonight. Oh well, work at the L*********** tomorrow. Finally got up the courage (christ, it's like being in school again) to ring Lee back, and manage to sort at least one extra shift. And had a Voicemail whilst at work saying he's managed to wangle me another one on the 11th. Woo!! On a side note, he has the most lovely telephone voice. And he even said "How are you?" when I rang this afternoon. How many managers do that?! Gawd love him. Sounds all friendly too, like we were just mates having a little chat, say, about getting shifts. Hmmmm.....
And I totally didn't save all the messages he left me and listen to them again, grinning from ear to ear and shivering slightly at the sound of his voice..... What?! He has a sexy voice!! And says my name in the most ridiculously attractive way. Although, like I said, not that I saved his messages and re-played them, or anything...... (*looks shifty*)
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PS: Have just watched the full trailer for 6th Harry Potter film. Oh my fricking god and all his ilk. I'm so excited I literally nearly humped the screen.
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