April 29th, 2018
Good grief, but we are dead in here.
Between the suddenly gorgeous weather outside, and the fact that tax return season is now soundly behind us, people are flocking away from the casino in droves. Likely it’ll stay like this until the heat brings them back to the air conditioning. That’s how it often works, at least.
Given that it’s Charon’s one day off, Rickie has the helm for most of the evening, and Haley again is our sole cocktail girl for the evening.
We had a few regulars in the house, including one younger couple I’ve been serving drinks to for years now. In fact, this youngish couple was the star of the only thing really dramatic for the evening.
The long and the short of it is this :
They entered the casino. Either they didn’t hear the guard at the door ask for ID, or did and ignored him – don’t know.
Said guard then alerts surveillance.
Surveilance watches them come down to the bar.
At the bar, I greet them, because again – I’ve served this couple drinks since before they were a couple. I know they look young, but I’ve ID’d them before and I know they’re kosher, so I don’t today. The guy in particular has spent stupid wads of money in this building judging by his ‘Platinum’ player’s card.
They buy beers. As they’re leaving the bar, security descends on them because of ostensibly the above stuff. The young lady can’t produce ID. I vouch for them. Security doesn’t care and basically states that the regular couple has to leave because ID can’t be produced.
Couple, particularly the guy, becomes rather irate about all of this, and I can’t particularly blame them. They want refunds for their beers if they can’t drink them. This is problematic becuase I’m not technically authorized to do such things. I state I’ll have to find a supervisor. I make calls. I radio. I get no response. Of course. I poke my head into the food court, with no luck either. Eventually I just make an executive decision above my pay grade and go to retund their bucks.
I do the math wrong. Now – in the tense situation, I do the math wrong. I’m off by a dollar. I see how I made the mistake and turn around to correct it. When I turn back around with the extra dollar, I see that the male has thrown the money at me and it’s all over the bar.
I would like to think at this point that people watching this realized that a line had been crossed with me, ‘cuz yeah. If I’m just trying to help you out, and you’re mad at the place I work, and you start taking it out on me too, when I haven’t done anything to you? Oh yeah. You can go take a flying fuck through a rolling donut, as Mr. Vonnegut would say.
The couple is ushered out. I spend the next couple of hours trying to quietly process the whole thing and not just beat up on the furnishings, ‘cuz I tell you, I was so fucking angry I could have thrown bar stools.
I did -not- throw bar stools for the record. I certainly wanted to. As far as I’m concerned, if Mr. Youngish McChuckles ever wanders back into my bar (after of course insisting that he’ll never do so again), then he’ll get served nothing but water from me. Were he to come up and apologize? I’d let it go. I’m willing to reset.
Any other course of action, frankly, and it’s a big ol’ bucket of no. I just won’t brook that type of disrespect.
The security guy in question had the balls to come up to the bar to talk to me afterwards and explain as best he could what was going on. I for my part, told him I was pissed off, but I did it civilly and politely. I felt it was fair for him to know that, but I did it with a civil tongue and was in no way out of control, and thanked him for coming by. That, see, I can respect. Throwing money at me? Fuck you. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Get out of my bar.
Annnnnyway. And just writing that story down 2 days after the fact is still riling me up. Gods, that fuckface just pissed me off. Can you tell?
Anyway, to make the long story short (too late), the night passed without further incident and I went home on time. Whee.
Closing observations :
- It’s probably a good thing that Chickenshit didn’t have the balls to throw the money at me when I was facing him. I might not be still employed.
- I did run my unauthorized refund by Rickie and she said it was the right thing to do under the circumstances, so I don’t expect to eat any crap for that, which is good. I really don’t want more things about that whole situation to be annoyed with. For now, I’m dearly glad that I don’t have to return for a few days.
Next up : Thursday