Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Irregulars

I have worked at about every kind of food/bar place there is. I got my first job at McDonalds in high school ( I also had a mouth full of braces and headgear....so yeah, high school was fun times for me) and have since done everything to dive bars, college bars, casual and fine dining and even a comedy club (not as much fun as you would think). I take that back, I have yet to work at a strip club. But, hey, tick-tock.
Anyway my point is, that at every single place I have ever worked, there are regulars. Those people that everyone of the staff knows because they come in so damn much. Bar regulars are a particular brand within themselves. Some of them come in every fucking day. Every. Fucking. Day.
Over the years, I've had some regulars that I really did like. Why did I like them? Because they were nice, respectful great tippers and hooked me up. That was the only reason I liked them. I knew I would make money off of them. I really didn't care what they were blabbing about and I didn't want to hang out with them.I certainly didn't want their asses to be there my entire shift, as some would tend to do. Maybe this sounds harsh, but anyone who has had to stand behind a bar for countless hours on end understands. Unless you give me a reason otherwise, I have to be nice to you to some degree. But every damn day, the regulars are here. I've been in relationships with people I didn't want to see every damn day. And if you are a shitty-tipping regular, I will give you your drink as is required of me, but I'll be damned if I'm going to waste a second of my breath talking to your cheap ass. And I've had my fair share of this type of regular too and you would be surprised how many of them don't even notice that I would rather clean the nasty beer cooler than acknowledge them. Not to mention that some of them think because they are a regular, they deserve some kind of special treatment and I'm supposed to bend over backwards to appease there self-entitled asses. And God fucking forbid someone should be sitting on "their" stool. Have you ever seen a grown man pout like a four year old and stare someone down, willing them to move, because, don't you know, HE is a fucking regular and YOU are in HIS seat! I have. Lots of times.
I remember once getting off a night shift around 11 and coming back in the next day around 4 to see the same two regulars sitting in the same goddam chairs they were in the night before when I left. I just remember thinking to myself, "You have to be fucking kidding me". Did you fuckers even go home? Surely you did, because at some point we closed, but here you are again by some kind of drunken draft beer magic. Here's an application. Fill it out and just get a fucking job here. You clock in more hours than I do.
Look, I've glad you like my place of employment. Happy you found your own personal little "Cheers". But I can assure you, we may know your name, but we probally have a different one we refer to you by. The Wack Pack, The Watermelon Fucker (he told us that he once had sex with a watermelon. So what else could we have called him?), Coors Regular Guy and Lush Housewife Lady are just a few of the nicer ones I've heard over the years.  And if you are cheap, rude or we don't like you, some of those names can be really, really nasty. And you come to this place everyday. The place that has a nasty, deserving nickname for your ass.
There's nothing wrong with having a staple bar that you and your work buddies come to a couple days a week. I get that. I just couldn't imagine going to the same bar by myself every single day, ordering the same drink every single day, and talking about the same old bullshit every single day. There just seems to me like there are too many other things in life to do. I suppose I should feel some type of pity for the regular. Maybe they are lonely and have no friends, or family (although I know for a fact, some of them have wives and kids at home, which kinda does make it a little sad). But everyday? Get a hobby, join a book club. Stop by the red dot store and drink at home everyonce in a while. Fucking something. It's just not healthy, normal behavior for your ass to be glued to one of my bar stools every day. And don't say you come just to see me. As I've already stated, seeing you this often is annoying and if you can't understand that, than I guess you really are a lonely drunk. Perhaps your time would be better spent at an AA meeting everyday.
Even I know this post is coming off a little mean and bitter (my current bar has some of the worst regulars I have ever encountered in my entire life). I know a lot of bartenders that depend on there regulars for making a lot of their money. It's mainly just the ones that are ALWAYS there that I just don't understand. Or the ones that are cheap and I cringe when I see them walk in the door. Or the creepy ones that stare at my tits and make sexual comments that even I find offensive (and, believe me,  it takes a lot to offend my ass). But as long as there are bars, and I have to work in them, I've come to accept the fact that there will be regulars. And some of them will be there waiting for me every fucking day. Just do me a favor, okay. If I must look at you every shift, at least throw me a decent tip and don't be a asshole. Is that too much to ask?

1 comment:

  1. Irregular is right.
    They don't fit, but they keep coming back to try it on.