the best bartender rant in the history of the world

This is bar-none, the best bartender rant in the history of the world. I found it on a blog ages ago.

First of all, understand something. Unless you knew them before they began bartending, bartenders are not your friends. Think of us like dancers. We are there for one reason only. To take your money. I will act buddy-buddy with you. Pretend you are the funniest fucking guy on Earth. But I don’t give a shit whether you live or die. You are my income. I will forget about you a nanosecond after you leave my bar. You pay me, and I move on to the next mark. I am not there to make friends. I am there to pay my rent. And if letting you think that I’m your bud will get you to tip me more…. Then I’m your new best friend. Until you stand up. Then you’re nobody again. The sooner you realize this, the better off you’ll be. Unless you’re a woman. In that case, I’m after two things. Your money, and… take a guess. I don’t care if you’re with your boyfriend. When he goes to the bathroom, you might as well have come in alone.

Now to the real point of this rant. The above sentiments come from one thing only. Customers SUCK. ALL customers suck. For what we put up with, none of you tip us enough. None of you stupid fuckers realize exactly what it takes for two bartenders to keep their customers happy. I work in a restaurant; so consequently, I am making drinks for 200 other people at the same time. Yet you dumb-ass fucking drunks will bitch and moan about how much ice is in your drink. Or you can’t taste the liquor. FUCK YOU. Pay me and shut up. I have too many other people to worry about.

Now, there are hotels near my job, so we get a lot of people from the Midwest and overseas into my bar. To all of those idiot living in Europe and Mid-America…. LEARN HOW TO TIP YOU HICKS AND EUROTRASH!!!! Leaving me 30 cents on a round is just going to get you a longer wait for your next round. I loooooooove making people wait. It pisses them off to no end. The only thing that makes my job worthwhile is the petty revenge I get to take out. But I’ll get into my revenges in a sec. Just a last word to the Hicks and Trash…. In an urban part of the US, you tip at least a dollar a round. And that’s even low. But it’s acceptable. Taking notes, hicks? You cheap fucking rubes. I know the cost of living is very low where you’re from, but if you can’t afford to pay for a vacation to the big city… then don’t come. You’re not welcome.

Mmmmm…. Revenge. What do I do when someone pisses me off? Well, the best thing is cutting someone off for no reason. If you even vaguely insult me, I’ll cut you off and kick you out. If you get slobbering drunk, I’ll cut you off and kick you out. And my word is the last word. My manager can’t override me. Either learn how to drink, or learn how to be polite. My word is the last word. Ha-fucking-ha. Another method of revenge is your drink. Piss me off, I’ll water you down. Complain about it, and I’ll cut you off. Ha-ha. Fuck you. And god forbid you order food, and then proceed to piss me off. I won’t even get into what I do there. Suffice it to say that if you’re ordering food… be EXTRA nice to me. I have complete control over your digestive tract. Be nice, or else. The most satisfying bit of revenge, though, is ignoring you. I love that. And again, if you bitch about it, out you go.

And that’s about it. Just remember… your bartender can make your night great, or I can make your night very short. It’s up to you. Now, all this being said, if you are one of those very very rare people who actually tip well, then I’ll be looking out for you. I’ll buy you a couple of rounds. I’ll pour heavy. I’ll pour light. Whatever. Just never, EVER say this phrase: “Just do your job”. No no no. You say that phrase, and my job suddenly includes kicking your ass out. I don’t care if you haven’t had a drink. I can lie and say that you smelled of liquor when you came in. I could say you’re already drunk. Once I cut you off, that’s it. Get your things and get out. HaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. And always remember kiddies… it takes 47 muscles to frown. It only takes 4 muscles to raise your arm and bitch-slap that motherfucker.

—Uncle Bob, East Rutherford

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