Country 'Gastro' Pubs
The summer before I started uni I worked in this country pub just outside the village where I lived.

The main problem with the job was not the staff but the clientele. It was set up as a gastro pub so I was effectively a waiter rather than barstaff, and was paid accordingly (but without tips - cos it was a pub).

During the week it was usually fine but on Friday nights and the weekend the world and its sister would descend, with everyone wanting food. As it was set up as a pub you ordered food at the bar. Therefore if a mistake was made in the order it wouldn't be discovered until I brought the food to the table, and occasionally get me an undeserved bollocking.

(I did get many deserved bollockings such as the time I accidentally set fire to the curtains while sword fighting with the long, lit, candles)

The main barman was a Mackem. Nice bloke but thick as the proverbial. Mistakes of this nature were common particulary in busy periods. Most customers were pretty understanding but there was always the odd wanker/chav (we are talking Kent here) who'd cause a fuss and try and get something free out of you for the most innocent mistake.

That summer was the hottest one on record (2002). One day it was so bad that we had to close up as two of the chefs fainted. Patience was gradually wearing thin.

Things came to a head about 3 weeks before i was due to finish. It was Saturday night and a party of 8 came in, bit drunk, estate agent types with their partners. One bloke obviously trying to show off in front of his mates and gf was deliberately finding fault with everything, trying to get free drinks, free starters the whole shebang. It was boiling, I was stressed, sweating like a paedo in a primary school, and when hurrying to bring the mains I tripped on the step and accidentally flung his carbonara all over his lap.



Putting it mildly he was a bit narked off.


I was apologising like crazy. My bar manager came over and tried to calm him down. He was threatening to sue me, the landlord, the chain. Even the people he was with were starting to look embarrassed.

Finally he paused for breath, looked me in the eye and said "You're a disgrace to your fahking profession".

To which I replied "Well you're a disgrace to your fucking species!" There was a stunned pause... "And your hair's shit too!" (I was on a roll).

I turned on my heel and stormed off. I then sat out back having a smoke and waited to see what would happen. Eventually the landlord and bar manager came out. I apologised and while they weren't angry they suggested it might be an idea if I didn't come in to work any more.

They then paid me for the next two weeks as in fairness I'd worked my arse off for them over the last few months.

Edit: forgot to say pearoast from the 'I Quit' QOTW
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 10:54, 3 replies)

This seems familar
Have you posted it before?
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 11:16, closed)

Yep
Slightly edited pearoast from the 'I Quit' QOTW. Am too hungover and lazy this morning for original thought.
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 11:33, closed)

i was thinking the same thing
(btw it was 2003 not 2002) ;)
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 12:34, closed)