Katie

On Sunday, I tended bar at a wedding. The guests at this particular event, with perhaps two exceptions, were just about the skankiest nasty-ass group of low-lifes I have ever had the displeasure to come into contact with. Be that as it may, all personal feelings have to be put aside and the job has to be done to the best of our ability. That's the way it works. (But not inside my mind... oh, no... it's a very different situation inside my brain... its downright spooky in there!)

Just about every order came with a flurry of demanding and picky instructions ("gimme four whole ice cubes, break one in half and gimme half-a-one, go light on da cramberry, and I only like apsaloot vocka, ya got dat, asshole??!" -- "Yes, Sir, I understand... [You stupid moronic bastard!]"

More than one of the cretins, shockingly, took a sip of their drink and after judging it to be (apparently) not up to their exacting specifications (we're talking class here, folks...), actually spit the mouthful of drink out onto the carpet. (If you aren't appalled, you aren't paying close enough attention.)

The disparaging comments were flying fast and furious between members of the bar staff and wait staff alike. These people absolutely sucked.

There was one female, in particular, who was without a doubt the biggest pain-in-the-ass at the party. As we were working the cocktail hour, we observed her as she stomped back and forth through the room, going from one group of people to another, then back to her chair, where she would fling herself down, arms folded, in a huff, and pout until it was time to start all over.

Eventually, of course, she came stomping up to the bar, my bar, (of course... welcome to Bear's World).

"Hello! What can I get you?" I asked.
"I don't know. I'm having a shitty time." she snapped in reply.
"Really!? Why? Is there something that we can do for you??" I asked, wanting to address the problem, in hopes of making her happy.
"No. There's nothing you assholes [!! What the F--!?] can do. I came all the way up from Florida, and it doesn't seem to matter to them!! I'm the sister-of-the-groom and nobody is treating me special!! They all suck, and you guys suck!"
[Wow.. what a miserable bitch you are!! I can't imagine why anybody wouldn't want to treat you special...] "Would you like me to make you a drink?" [Just what you need... alcohol!]
"Yeah... I guess so... gimme a Sea breeze, three ice cubes, and make it strong.... hurry up, I don't feel like standing here all day."
[Smile nice.... be polite.... we mustn't injure the customers... even though they may deserve it] "Coming right up, Ma'am.. here you go, enjoy..."
"What? No fruit?!"
[Sorry.. I thought it would be redundant!] "Certainly, Ma'am, my apologies... here you go."
She sipped her drink, appraisingly, then, making a hideous face, which, honestly, seemed to come somewhat easy for her, she announced in a loud voice (for effect, I'm sure... after all, what is drama if it has no effect??) "What the fuck is this?! I didn't order a fucking Shirley Temple!! This is made with goddamned grapefruit juice, asshole!! Don't you know I'm wicked allergic to grapefruit juice??!!"
[Actually, I did not. Not that it would have changed anything... although I tend to wonder why you would order a drink that is made with grapefruit juice, you asshole! if you are allergic to it. You fucking psycho!] "I'm very sorry, ma'am, I must have misunderstood you, I thought you ordered a Sea Breeze."

Sea Breeze
In a highball glass, iced up, add 2 ounces of Vodka, half-fill with grapefruit juice, and fill with cranberry juice.

"I did order a Sea Breeze, you jackass!... obviously, you don't have the first clue how to make one!"
"You may be right, Ma'am... I sometimes get confused. How do you prefer them??"
"You're s'posed to make them with Pineapple Juice!"
[Which is what we call a "Bay Breeze", Bright-Light! But why confuse both of your brain cells with the facts, ay dipshit??] "I'll make you another..."
"Go fuck yourself! Here!... Take your shit-drink and stick it up your ass!" she exclaimed, as she slapped the drink off of the bar and stormed off, heels clomping on the floor.

The other bartender looked over at me and asked, "What's her problem? Is she on something?"
"She isn't being treated as special as she would like... I'm praying that she'll be seated by you when we move into the main room."
"Gee, thanks!"
"No sweat."

Of course, she wasn't actually seated by the other bartender. In fact, for my enjoyment, she was seated right fucking in front of me!!! (How lucky can one guy be?? What have I done to make the gods hate me so much??!)

It wasn't long before she came stomping up, and started right in...

"I'm the groom's sister, you have to treat me right!! I get whatever I want!"
"What would you like?"
"It doesn't matter! Whatever I want, you have to give it to me! Didn't you know that my brother is getting married today?!"
[Actually, Dim-Bulb, he already got married.. but, in answer to your asinine question, Yes, I sort of gathered that someone would be getting married at a wedding!] "Oh, is he?! How nice! What would you like? I'll make you whatever you want."
"Well... do you have alcohol here??" (This, as she is practically climbing on to my bar, knocking about 12 bottles of liquor out of the way in a lame attempt to spill her boobs out, or show her cleavage, or god only knows what...)

(**NOTE: It helps to actually have boobs if you tend towards wanting to show them off or impress others with them. What I am sure she intended to be a low-cut neckline came off more like a cowl neck. My eyes were bleeding.)

[Hmmmm.. still sharp as a marble, I see...] "Actually, I do have quite a selection of alcoholic beverages! What would you like?" [For the third. fucking. time! (grit! grit! grit!)]

Just then, one of the guys from her table arrived. Immediately, she began hanging all over him, and blathering loudly at him about something that neither he nor I could decipher. After exchanging questioning glances at one another, he asked, "May I have a ginger ale, please?" (He was one of the two exceptions.. the other was a little girl who was as cute as a bug's ear and one of the most polite children I have ever met.)
"Certainly! Coming right up!"
Chickie interjected, "Put some fucking gin in that! Now!!"
Guy: "No...no... I don't want any gin, thank you."
Chickie: "Put some gin in that fucking glass!"
Me: Inquisitive look to Guy.
Guy: Negative head shake.
Chickie: "I told you to put gin in that! Fuck-it! I'll do it my fucking self!" at which point, she reached for the bottle of gin on the bar. In the industry, we refer to this as a 'mistake'. I grabbed the bottle too.. my hand over hers, and asked her, somewhat firmly, not to do that. "Listen, I can't have you handling things on the bar, Miss. I'll make you whatever drink you like, but you have to let go of the bottle. [...or I will start to squeeze until blood shoots out from underneath your fingernails, you overbearing, obnoxious shrew! Were you actually raised by wolves or hyenas or something?? What the fuck is your deal, anyway??]
(Stomping her feet for emphasis:) "I want gin in his drink!! You have to treat me special!!"
Me: Pleading look to Guy.
Guy: Pained affirmative headshake. (He will accept gin in his ginger ale to shut her the fuck up. I could kiss him.)

I pour about an eighth of an ounce of gin into his drink, and he takes it and runs. I'm left with idiot.

"My name's Katie, what's yours??" (I got the old bend over 'look at my non-existent cleavage' invite again.. I am mentally scarred for life)
[You have GOT to fucking kidding me...] "Katie, would you like a drink??" [Or perhaps you would like me to grab a handful of your lank, greasy hair and bounce your face off of the bar to knock some of the fucking cobwebs loose, sweetie??] I can make you a BAY Breeze... it has no grapefruit juice in it... its made with vodka, pineapple juice, and cranberry juice. Would you like one?" [I'm prepared to commit grand treason if it would guarantee me that you'll GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BAR!!! ...Darling!]
"Naw... I'm wicked allergic to pineapple juice. Gimme a Sea Breeze."
"I thought you were allergic to grapefruit juice.
"Oh!...aahhhhhh.... gimme a rum and coke."
"Great! Coming right up!"
"What kind of rum do you have?"
[Fuck! Buckle up! Please keep all hands and legs inside the carriage, thank you! Enjoy the ride!] " ... Um..it's Baccardi..."
"Oh... well... I guess that'll have to do..."
[Wouldn't it be nice if I could drown you in it, my little nest of hornets??] "Here you go! Will there be anything else??" (insert pointed look at the NINE BILLION other customers waiting for her to take her insipid, simpering ass back to her table!)
She sips her drink, arrives at her decision, and passes judgement, "I don't really like them this way, but it'll do. Next time, go lighter on the lime juice."
"Will do." [There IS no fucking lime juice in that drink, you jackass! Why, oh why couldn't you be "wicked allergic" to AIR!?!?]

For the next couple of hours, I got to watch her antics as she alternately ripped people's children out of their arms, rolled upon the floor (yes.. I said rolled upon the floor. I don't know. I don't want to know. She's a lunatic), crawled around, and spent most of her time crying, and doing her level best to physically seperate any couple or group who made the mistake of making even a small public show of affection.

She didn't neglect me, however, and I got her full attention soooo much more than I deserved....(or wanted)(or could tolerate, really... somebody help me...)! (is it really too much to ask for her to slip on the dance floor and sustain a massive concussion... just this once?? Of course, she would have had to fall on her ass to sustain that particular injury!)

As the night wore on, her drink orders became, well.... interesting.

"Hey... SLaarthphigMmwhaschTtplip! Gear'm'na AsPlooten VodkCH!"
"I'm sorry... I didn't catch that last...." [You slobbering, gibbering, barking lunatic!]
"S'rang?? Stupidasump'n?? I said I wanna Abslooten Vocka.."
(Five seconds of the 'Final Jeopardy Overture', then...)
"Ah! Absolut AND Vodka??"
"Ya!"
"Sooo.. that would be Vodka on the rocks??"
"No, stupid... Alsplap n' VOCKA!! Pay tenshn!"
"Certainly, my mistake... (I have given up trying to understand what the fuck she is on about, so, I decide to just make a recommendation - ) Absolut and Tonic, twist of Lime?"
"Yah"
"Coming right up!" [She gets tonic, club soda, and a drop of vodka in her straw. She's a friggin bar-rag] "Here you go!"
" 'S'dlichus!"
"I'm so glad you like it!" (there are people in this world who are only alive because it is unlawful for other people to kill them...)

Some other character came by for his three drinks at a time... explained that he had no money in his pockets, and therefore couldn't afford to tip me, and, after I explained that that would be fine, dug around in his pockets and came up with this -

Weird, but he get's an "A" for effort!

Oh, god! Here she comes again!!
"Hello, Katie, what can I get ya?" [Where are your flying monkeys??]
"I jus' wanned t'say.. say.. say... (sniffle, sniffle)..." at which point her face screwed up and she began to cry... she staggered around the end of the bar and put her arms out to (GAAAA!) hug me.... I pushed both hands down towards her side, and explained that she couldn't be behind the bar. She reached for my hand, and said, "Hold me.. hold my hand..."
"No, Katie. You need to go back to your table, or go dance, or go do something, but whatever it is that you're doing, you can't do it here. You gotta go." [You know, a zip-loc plastic bag and a wire-tie would fix everything up in a jiffy!! What size did you say your neck was??]
"I gotta pee." (And, if that wasn't tempting enough, she baked a nice big, loud, wet fart to sort of sweeten the deal a little. What a gem, our Katie! (If she had been my daughter, she would have gone into a blender seconds after birth...)
[Niiiiice!! Learn that in finishing school, didja?? Why don't you blow your nose... that way you won't have to keep wiping it with your hair. God, you're hot! You've got it all! Poise, class, snot, drool, urine, and intelligent conversation!!] "The ladies room is straight out that door, and down the hallway on your right-hand side."

And off she went.

Twenty minutes later, and here she comes.... clomping across the dance floor, in a lovely zig-zag path.. frightened children scattering, screaming at the tops of their little lungs at the thought that she may want to pick them up and breathe on them again.....

"I jus' wanned to tell you you're'n ASShole... I wanned t'hug you... I don't jus' hug anyone, y'know!"
"I don't know you that well, Katie... and I'm at work. Don't take it personally..." [Even though it is, you nasty skag! I would rather dangle my winkie in a tank of pirhana than to touch you at all!]
"Gimme 'nother gin n tonic"
[Hey.. fuck-stick! Did you ever, in all of your life before today, happen to hear the words 'please' and 'thank you' used in polite conversation between humans??] "Sure, Katie... here you go..." (She get's tonic, club soda, and a drop of gin in her straw).
"Thangs... n' Fuck You!"
"Anytime, darlin' "

As she turns and goes stomping off, I realize that the gods have not actually abandoned me, and that justice does prevail once again in the universe; for not only does she have an eight-foot tile-comet of toilet paper stuck to her left heel.... her dress is tucked into her panty hose in the back, and half of her ass is trying to make a break for it! I lean back, fold my arms, and smile... content that all the cosmos has once again attained balance.