Actual Customer Interactions: The Tight-Wad Hawaiian Shirt

HUSBAND: Is it Happy Hour yet?

ME: Nope. Not till 3:00.

HUSBAND: What time is it?

ME: (looks at watch) Um, about 2:39. You’ve got twenty minutes till Go Time. What can I get you in the meantime?

HUSBAND: Can you make an exception?

ME: Sorry, but I make a point to not buy anything for anyone that I don’t know.

HUSBAND: But you’re not (winks) actually buying it.

ME: Yeah, I would be if you didn’t give me money to pay for what you’ve drank.

HUSBAND: But I’m a real good tipper.

ME: (doing my best to sound like I’m making a joke (but actually not making a joke)) I’ve heard that one before. (almost snorts) With all due respect, sir, anybody that’s ever said to me that they’re ‘a good tipper’ is never a good tipper. Telling me that you’re a good tipper is basically a surefire kick in the nuts for good tipping. I’ve yet to meet a self-proclaimed ‘good tipper’ who turns out to be a good tipper.

HUSBAND: You’re not even willing to make an exception for a pretty girl? (indicates his wife to his left)

ME: Especially not for a pretty girl. (still trying hard to continue casually ‘shooting’ the proverbial bartender ‘shit’) I learned that lesson long ago. Unless I’m sleeping with her, or have a really, really good shot at sleeping with her, OR she’s a friend of mine, I never buy a girl a drink unless we’re on the same side of the bar, and I’ve got a chance at chatting her up properly. Or she’s a regular. I learned that lesson when I was way young. (pause) Not that your wife isn’t beautiful, of course.

WIFE: Oh, stop.

HUSBAND: You’re kind of uptight.

ME: (choosing to remain upbeat and casual) Not really. I’m just smart. I need to keep this job to make sure my dog gets fed. And part of keeping this job is not giving free shit away to people I don’t know.

HUSBAND: Well, what time is it now?

ME: 2:42. You’ve still got twenty minutes.

HUSBAND: That’s what you said ten minutes ago.

ME: Three minutes ago. (checking watch, just to be sure. Then, confidently) It’s only been three minutes.

HUSBAND: Okay. How much are your drinks?

ME: It depends on what you want.

HUSBAND: The cheapest stuff you got.

ME: All the booze starts off at $3.75 for a two ounce pour.

HUSBAND: That’s pricy. I’ve got a friend who’s meeting us that drinks martinis.

ME: (facetiously) Well, this is ain’t Janesville.

HUSBAND: We’re from Janesville.

ME: (places foot directly in mouth)

WIFE: I’ll have a vodka and water with olives.

HUSBAND: (to WIFE, under his breath but still audible) Maybe we should wait?

WIFE: Oh, [Harold], let’s live a little. It’s four dollars.

HUSBAND: Per drink. (pause, giving in) Okay, fine. Get her that, and I’ll have a whiskey and Seven with olives. But make sure it’s rail.

WIFE: It’s a special occasion!

ME: Coming right up.

HUSBAND: (calling out as I’m walking away to make the drinks) But feel free to give us the member’s discount!

ME: Last time I checked, this wasn’t a country club.