A few Saturdays ago there were three very drunk, decidedly middle-aged suits sitting up at the bar. One of them stopped me as I was walking past and slurred "I have to ask you, honey. Do you work here cause you like older men or do you just work here?" (Imagine that being said by a forty-something year old who reeked of whiskey). Now generally I am nice; I brush off lascivious old men with a polite but firm comment, unlike a lot of other female bar-staff who have the "Eat shit and die" look down pat. I've been begging them to teach me. But that night, without even thinking about it, I turned around to face the guy, gave him a look that would turn Medusa to stone and replied in my best withering voice, "I just work here", before continuing on my path to the staff table.
The punchline? The guy and his friends were so abashed that they tipped me $50 and I never even served them. Guess my fuck off face isn't too bad after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment