New York, New York, why must your IDs look so fake? I almost fought a girl tonight over her fake ID, and you don't have enough checks and balances for foreigners to discern reality.
I took up this girl's ID because: 1. It expired in June 2008, 2. The nose was too different (and if she could afford a nose job, she could have afforded a new license), 3. It was an expired learner's permit for a 24-year-old, and 4. The chick on the ID was Indian, not black. Girl pitched a fit, but she couldn't prove it was her. Of course, I didn't want to disobey the law myself and take a real expired ID, but I still couldn't believe this girl was the same on "her ID." But not even having a debit card to prove it was her, I safely assumed it was fake. I even got Officer Byron involved to demonstrate that it was on legal grounds that I could not return her learner's permit. The girl claimed that she was driving and needed her expired license; she couldn't even provide Byron with proof of registration to match the names. But then she said she was only visiting and had flown in. She later drove away in a old, beat-up, New York-licensed car.
I put returning the ID back up to Byron; he's the officer, he's the boss. But I did stress that the girl was not the same as the picture.
Like hell an officer is going to give you your ID back if you're rude to him.
Like hell you're not getting kicked out if you call your server a bitch for confiscating your illegal identification.
Byron had managed to get the girl and her trashy friends to the door when one of these trashy friends walked back into the bar and couldn't keep three extra empty feet to herself and bumped into me while I was talking to a legal table. She obviously wasn't even tipsy, as she hadn't a drop to drink once she walked in, so I saw no reason for such an erratic step. Byron escorted them all out before I could land a punch. Benevolent as I am, I was ready for a fight by that point.
You know what she asked on her way out the door? "Can I have my ID back?"
Never was I so happy for my $25 fake ID reward.
Showing posts with label byron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label byron. Show all posts
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
The Friday Round-Up
My whole body aches. My feet, my knees, my thighs, my lower back, my spine, my shoulders, my neck, my head, and everywhere inbetween. I'm getting a massage tomorrow, end of.
It was crazy, one of those nights where you round prices up a dollar or two when cocktailing because you know no one is giving you an extra buck for your time. I sold $900. I made $160. Not bad, but definitely, not good.
Here's a bullet list of why I got home at 3am:
I'll state it again: Thank god we have Byron.
(Edited 11/22, because at 3am, no one could have had enough brain power to write decently. Also, that massage was amazing.)
It was crazy, one of those nights where you round prices up a dollar or two when cocktailing because you know no one is giving you an extra buck for your time. I sold $900. I made $160. Not bad, but definitely, not good.
Here's a bullet list of why I got home at 3am:
- Eli didn't realize she was working (new schedule manager still working out the kinks in schedule-making), so she was stuck at a school event and couldn't come in. We were based on anarchy-hierarchy for a while. The GM came in, and then we all texted Benjammin' to come in instead. We took care of him with tip out.
- People got so drunk they called me by name as their server, but they actually had Ana. (Let me tell you, when it's that busy, I don't know anyone by his or her face, only by where the person sits.)
- I got so busy that I fell on my ass, hopped up, grabbed more drinks, then felt the pain after delivering the drink.
- Some drunk girl, looking for her server, stormed into the kitchen, and upon not seeing her, kept going toward the bar to find her server. I had to block her with my arm.
- The gravel parking lot turned into one giant dance party -- until the cops drove by and everyone scattered.
- LL got wasted, so I counted her money, fended off the sketchy men, and helped with her side work in addition to all of mine. To her credit, she did try to help, but we made her sleep.
- Someone masturbated in the men's room. I got the pleasure of cleaning it.
- I drove LL and JD home.
- Someone sent back a menu because "it had boogers on it":
I'll state it again: Thank god we have Byron.
(Edited 11/22, because at 3am, no one could have had enough brain power to write decently. Also, that massage was amazing.)
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The New Addition to the Family
Byron. His name is Byron! And I love him. He makes me feel safe, comforts me, and walks me to my car. What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man. I could say it again.
Byron is our new Thursday/Friday security guard.
This is actually pretty exciting news. The neighborhood has quickly been worsening; I used to live across the street and moved near Oglethorpe University to get someplace safe. My place of business was robbed twice in a week by the same guy (later caught), so now we have special metal doors at night. Also, there have been an upsurge of robberies along the road, and a high-profile shooting (murder?) two blocks away.
The local news stations are in a particular uproar about this part of town, as concerns the safety of Georgia Tech students. So when two Fridays ago, I drove to work and saw students interviewed a block away and Fox 5 and CBS vans across the street, I knew that the armed robbery of our three patrons had become the newest major story in the series. After a phone call from my mother, she confirmed that the news reported a shooting in the area and correctly assumed it was related to my place of work. Props, Mom. Then later that day, while pouring a beer during the six o'clock news, I saw the Fox story. The road became stock footage -- as well as our front door and sign. Then the reporter walked out our front door and displayed the restaurant logo again. Good job at making the news visually exciting and appealing to all, Fox 5. Good thing most of our patrons don't watch the news.
We have a hunch those robbers had been customers just beforehand. However, I don't understand why they'd target foreign exchange students. Tourists carry money on them, not exchange students. For all that trouble, they only got $20 and a cell phone. And hopefully a warrant for arrest. The robbed French exchange students had never seen a gun before in their lives. "He pointed a gun at me! A gun!" one of them said.
The bartender's thought: "Welcome to America."
The servers were, as a result, in a bit of an uproar about our safety. We even toyed with the idea of a strike. Many bars on the other side of town had shootings/armed robberies inside, and we didn't want to worry about walking to our cars in the dark gravel lot or what could happen. We feel that we've been too lucky so far, having missed encounters by minutes and a matter of yards. We wanted an officer to protect us. Certain servers called the owners to explain the situation, and I was poised to write an email or petition for the cause. However, that Saturday's manager meeting resulted in an outcome that made me feel like it was pointless. And my email-writing partner was out of town, so I lost some fire a week later.
Well.
Last Friday I went to the Atlanta Opera's The Elixir of Love with a coworker. (It was lovely.) I picked her up at the bar, then after a sudden downpour ruined our fancy dress, we went back to the bar for a simple beer. We walked in just a few minutes after eleven, worked our way through the crowd, pointed out a friend at the end of the bar, and on the way, he had managed to be knocked over from his bar stool with a standoff going on. (Needless to say, from what I heard, it wasn't undeserved.) My friend was quickly dragged behind the bar, and minus a bit of his drunken behavior, we had a relatively quiet drink. For about half a beer.
Behind us, the new girl had a table of two mid-thirties men. I had had the guy with crazy short dreds the previous night when he had treated a lady to chicken fingers and a Goose/cran. Now, when a man orders Grey Goose, you can expect one of two things: 1. He's loaded and only drinks the best, giving you a fat tip (unlikely), or 2. He spent all his money on top shelf liquor and you're lucky to get the change. The only reason I recognized him was because he gave me two bucks on $26. I was already biased against him.
I turned around at one point to notice the manager telling these two guys they had to leave because it is inappropriate to tell a server that you would "like to lick her pussy." They gave the manager lip and didn't get up. By this point it was last call, and the bartender managed to kick out the guy who actually did say it (2 on 26), but the friend refused to leave. New Girl told him that although, yes, he wasn't the actual offender, it was still closing time and he had to leave. I can't remember if that was exactly when he flung his pitcher across the restaurant or not.
Both manager and bartender began to dial 911 when the irate customer got up, yelled some, then threw a bar stool across the distance of the bar. That's when they hung up, ran outside after him, and another server called the Georgia Tech cops. I quickly finished the beer as I heard he was being arrested.
As I left the restroom on my way to the car, there was another loud uproar because no one at a large party could figure out how to pay the tab. It was 12:15.
And that's how Byron came into my life today.
Byron is our new Thursday/Friday security guard.
This is actually pretty exciting news. The neighborhood has quickly been worsening; I used to live across the street and moved near Oglethorpe University to get someplace safe. My place of business was robbed twice in a week by the same guy (later caught), so now we have special metal doors at night. Also, there have been an upsurge of robberies along the road, and a high-profile shooting (murder?) two blocks away.
The local news stations are in a particular uproar about this part of town, as concerns the safety of Georgia Tech students. So when two Fridays ago, I drove to work and saw students interviewed a block away and Fox 5 and CBS vans across the street, I knew that the armed robbery of our three patrons had become the newest major story in the series. After a phone call from my mother, she confirmed that the news reported a shooting in the area and correctly assumed it was related to my place of work. Props, Mom. Then later that day, while pouring a beer during the six o'clock news, I saw the Fox story. The road became stock footage -- as well as our front door and sign. Then the reporter walked out our front door and displayed the restaurant logo again. Good job at making the news visually exciting and appealing to all, Fox 5. Good thing most of our patrons don't watch the news.
We have a hunch those robbers had been customers just beforehand. However, I don't understand why they'd target foreign exchange students. Tourists carry money on them, not exchange students. For all that trouble, they only got $20 and a cell phone. And hopefully a warrant for arrest. The robbed French exchange students had never seen a gun before in their lives. "He pointed a gun at me! A gun!" one of them said.
The bartender's thought: "Welcome to America."
The servers were, as a result, in a bit of an uproar about our safety. We even toyed with the idea of a strike. Many bars on the other side of town had shootings/armed robberies inside, and we didn't want to worry about walking to our cars in the dark gravel lot or what could happen. We feel that we've been too lucky so far, having missed encounters by minutes and a matter of yards. We wanted an officer to protect us. Certain servers called the owners to explain the situation, and I was poised to write an email or petition for the cause. However, that Saturday's manager meeting resulted in an outcome that made me feel like it was pointless. And my email-writing partner was out of town, so I lost some fire a week later.
Well.
Last Friday I went to the Atlanta Opera's The Elixir of Love with a coworker. (It was lovely.) I picked her up at the bar, then after a sudden downpour ruined our fancy dress, we went back to the bar for a simple beer. We walked in just a few minutes after eleven, worked our way through the crowd, pointed out a friend at the end of the bar, and on the way, he had managed to be knocked over from his bar stool with a standoff going on. (Needless to say, from what I heard, it wasn't undeserved.) My friend was quickly dragged behind the bar, and minus a bit of his drunken behavior, we had a relatively quiet drink. For about half a beer.
Behind us, the new girl had a table of two mid-thirties men. I had had the guy with crazy short dreds the previous night when he had treated a lady to chicken fingers and a Goose/cran. Now, when a man orders Grey Goose, you can expect one of two things: 1. He's loaded and only drinks the best, giving you a fat tip (unlikely), or 2. He spent all his money on top shelf liquor and you're lucky to get the change. The only reason I recognized him was because he gave me two bucks on $26. I was already biased against him.
I turned around at one point to notice the manager telling these two guys they had to leave because it is inappropriate to tell a server that you would "like to lick her pussy." They gave the manager lip and didn't get up. By this point it was last call, and the bartender managed to kick out the guy who actually did say it (2 on 26), but the friend refused to leave. New Girl told him that although, yes, he wasn't the actual offender, it was still closing time and he had to leave. I can't remember if that was exactly when he flung his pitcher across the restaurant or not.
Both manager and bartender began to dial 911 when the irate customer got up, yelled some, then threw a bar stool across the distance of the bar. That's when they hung up, ran outside after him, and another server called the Georgia Tech cops. I quickly finished the beer as I heard he was being arrested.
As I left the restroom on my way to the car, there was another loud uproar because no one at a large party could figure out how to pay the tab. It was 12:15.
And that's how Byron came into my life today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
