I used to work in a bar
It was sort of a glorified whetherspoons, provided pretty much the same drinks and service but costing a bit more to keep the riff raff out. This did of course mean you'd still get some proper scummy people who, because they had a bit more money than the 'spooners, were still right up their own arses.

Anyway there were a fair amount of boob jobs floating around each weekend. Really obvious, badly done boob jobs - the sort that look like they're going to pop.

So it was about 1:30am on a Sunday night. I was tired, I had been there since 11am with only one hour break, and I had finished at 1am the night before (it took me about an hour to get from work to home and vice versa. I did a 16 hour Sunday shift with only 5 hours sleep every fucking week) Anyway I had this one lady approach the bar - she had the most ridiculous boob job I'd seen so far. They were enourmous and stuck out like she had a conjoined twin growing on her chest. With her she had two friends - one fat munter with a gob on her and the other one who kept her mouth shut.

So this girl leans at the bar and starts looking through the cocktail menu, specifically trying to find the list of pitchers. So she calls me over and asks "how much are the jugs?"

I give her a glance and say "I'd say about 3 grand, love."

"What?" She says?

"I said about 7 pound."

"Oh. Can I have a Sex on the Beach then please?"

'... too easy.'

So I make her pitcher, all the while fat munter friend has piped up and has got her camera out. She takes a couple of shots of the three of them as I mix her beverage. Then when I'm finished, fat munter holds out the camera to me and screams "Can you take are pikshar??" I'm tired, I want to go home, but ever passionate about the customer experience and service satisfaction, I take the camera, half heartedly point and shoot, and then hand it back. And then as I clean up the bar, she taps boob job on the shoulder and starts going mad. Screaming at her. Pointing at the camera and going mental.

'Oh god...' thought I. She shoves the camera back in my face and screams "What's the focus on in this picture??" Her boob job friend, like the tart that she was, had stuck her chest out and pouted her lips to pose for the photo. So all it was, was their three heads, correctly positioned in the top half of the frame... and a massive, bulging pair of Double Fs in the bottom half. I protested that I didn't mean to do that, she just pulled a pose, but she was having none of it. She went mental at me. She kept asking, "What's the focus on here? Are you trying to take a picture of her tits?" She didn't see the sheer non-logic of it, surely if I wanted to perv over her, I wouldn't do it by taking the picture on HER camera?...

I protested some more, that I was tired and I didn't concentrate properly, and then she asked me: "Do you LIKE her or something? Do you LIKE her?!?"

"No!!" I declared, trying to ease this situation.

"Oh my God!" she screamed as she turned to her friend "he DOESN'T LIKE YOU!"

'What??' I thought, 'So you're angry that I'm supposedly perving over your friend, now you're insulted that I'm not? How do I win this?' All sorts of obscenities came from the fat munter's lips, and I eventually figured out the solution - I leant in, and declared
"Ladies! Ladies... I'm gay."

"What?"

"I'm gay."

"... You're not gay."

"Yes, I am. I am gay." (I'm not gay.)

"Oh... my... God... you are aren't you! Awww do you have a boyfriend?"

(Shit, might have to prove it...) "No, I've just come out of long term relationship."

"Aww it's such a shame, all the good looking ones are... I have a friend you might be interested in. He's just looking for some fun."

"Uhm... ahem, well, it's okay, I'm not looking for anything at the moment..."

From that moment on, fat munter, boob job, and the silent one were enamoured with me. They came back twice in the night, gave me a big smile, wanted to be my breast, uh, best friend (okay cheap shot, sorry). They said goodbye and declared they'd be back, next weekend, to come see me.

I honestly considered quitting.

I'm not sure what's worse; that while working there, I had to use the 'I'm gay' line three times, or that each time, it didn't take much convincing...
(Dyslexic Pidgeon, Wed 12 May 2010, 12:02, 3 replies)

Nicely told
had some very similar experiences, but never had to tell them I was gay. I'm just ugly.
*click*
( wynoh kills threads by his mere presence, Wed 12 May 2010, 12:20, closed)

Good story
You have a sympathy click from me.
( Fat Fred too weird to live, too rare to die, Wed 12 May 2010, 12:57, closed)

To be fair
You are quite a mincer.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 12 May 2010, 13:11, closed)