Weekend Before St. Patrick's Day

Followers, readers, countrymen,

I apologize for the length in between posts, but I have been quite busy at my 'real' job. I understand that for some(/all) of you, this may be incredibly hard to believe, but do not let these words deceive you. Do not let the time spent on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube or Netflix deceive you.

Now, on to the goods:

First, as a disclaimer it was a very long weekend and I will try to recount events as best as possible.

As many of your livers know, this past weekend was the weekend before St. Patrick's day. I will refuse to call it 'St. Patrick's Day' because the actual Day is on Thursday, it was not this weekend.

I was scheduled to work Friday night 6pm-2am and Saturday 9am-6pm. This is all well and good even though I was not pleased that I had to work basically a 'double.' Thursday, I get an email sent to my Verizon Blackberry with the subject 'Change In Your Schedule.' At this point, I get very excited that maybe I only have to work one of the shifts. No. The change in my schedule was that I was required to come to the bar at 7:30am on Saturday because we open at 8am. This was not the best omen for the weekend.

Friday:

Only 1 memory is clear from Friday because the things I saw have been burned into my brain and I will never be allowed to forget it.

The front table clears, and this group of regulars comes in. I will try to describe the group as best as possible:

• Girl 1: 6'5, 300 lbs, runs a 4.6, and could play linebacker for the Cleveland Browns. Let's just say she is there more for the all you can eat buffet (boo-fay) than the drinks.

• Guy 1: The most normal looking guy of the group that had a cool Bulls hat until I saw it was Addidas brand, which is not acceptable for a fitted (a cap that 'fits' your head size without a snap-on buckle)

• Girl 2: A minitaure sized Snooki. Let that blow your mind.

• Guy 2: Looked like the guy that lived in his mothers basement and practiced his bass guitar while playing WOW (World of Warcraft, don't ask me why I know that)

• Girl 3: The Lebron James of the group. Built like a statue. She wasn't 'heavy' but she was just way bigger than the average girl. Loved to dance.

• Girl 4: Girlfriend of guy 2--shocking I know. Wore a tight fitting bustier, which obviously was the wrong size. Oh, and a flower in her hair.
  

This group of 'oddities' asks the other doorman if that table is available. He replies affirmatively and begins to clear the table off for them. The waitress immediately looks over at him and mouths the word, 'fuck.' She then approaches him to say to him 'fuck you.' These people I guess have a notorious reputation for getting their moneys worth and not tipping. Not tipping 'well,' just NOT tipping. As a former server in the industry, this is unacceptable.

Everything was fine until the drinks started to settle in. Then, the dancing ensued. This is when the LBJ of the group started to take over and really 'own' the floor. She was a huuge (pun intended) advocate for 'butt-bumping' her partner, and proceeded to drop down and get her eagle on. I literally thought the room was gonna start moving as she was droppin' low. I had no choice but to hysterically laugh at her futile attempts to be even remotely sexy. It just wasn't working.

To make matters worse, Guy 2 and Girl 4 started to get quite intimate in a public setting. Apparently, the rules of PDA were not in effect for this particular evening. They must have some weird roleplay fantasy that they are vampires or something, because this guy literally looked like he was interested in biting the shit out of her neck. It literally looked like he was a cannibal trying to eat her for sustenance. The image of Guy 2 trying to eat his girlfriend will forever be burned into my brain. When they were hardcore making out, I thought he was gonna swallow her whole. It was painful, intense, passionate, gross, disgusting, grotesque, but hey, that's art to some people.

The manager came over to the other doorguy and said, 'Never let these people sit in the front ever again. It's not good for our image and clientele.' I think this is a very fair assessment. If I were going to a bar and saw this group I would run away as fast as I could. I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to have to witness the things I saw that night.

Saturday:

I ended up getting home at 3 on Friday night/Saturday morning, took a 3 hour nap, and headed back to the bar. I'm pretty sure I had a dream about the bar I work at.

I arrive at 7:30 and people were wearing all green for something. I didn't understand why...St. Patrick's Day is Thursday, I thought maybe the bar was opening early for The Ohio State basketball game.

My job from 7:30am-6pm? Stand outside and direct people to the Port-a-potty's and make sure they weren't drinking outside, loitering, or smoking while inside the black gate. I had just as much fun performing this task as you did reading it.

Much doesn't stick out from Saturday because I was already exhausted from the night before, and I was just complaining (as everyone in the restaurant/bar business does. All we do is complain about how we hate our jobs, managers, lives etc... and question why we still do this shit. The answer is money. Doll hairs and cents.)

The only clear thing I can remember that is worth mentioning is that a man, clearly gay, asked the other doorman standing with me all day if we were gay. I respectfully told him that I was not, and in my head thanked him for the compliment.

For those of you wondering (and I know you are, cuz you asked me): 'Omg, was everyone, like, way drunker than normal?' The answer is not really. Seen one drunk, you seen em all, I says.

Happy Two Days Before St. Patrick's Day!

My First Fight...Kind Of

Wow. Ok. So, this past Friday's shift was unlike any shift i've ever had during my tenure as a bar bouncer. On Fridays, there is an 'after work' special/deal, which consists of an all you can eat buffet (pronounced boo-fay), and all you can drink drafts and wells from 6pm-11pm for the one-time low price of $20. Things usually get pretty crazy, but never in my life had I experienced what I saw that one fateful night.

The shift started off normally. It was my job to guard the 'boo-fay.' To answer all of your questions, the answer is 'Yes. It's as glorious a job as it seems.' Basically, I just make sure that only the people who are eating the food have the right colored wrist-band, and if the food is starting to run low, I tell the food-runner to replenish the stash. I am also the sneeze guard (just kidding).

It wasn't entirely awful because it was the beginning to the All-Star weekend so I watched the celebrity game and caught Bieber fever. So from 6-11 I stood there feeling pretty unimportant and useless and kept questioning my motivation to continue my work as a bouncer, and I do because of you the fans. There are stories that need to be told, and thank you for listening (reading).

After breaking down the buffet at 11 I decided I needed a change of scenery from the party of obviously underage DePaul students who were hosting a birthday party, and move to the front and start checking ID's.

Everything was pretty standard until about 12:30am when someone flipped a switch from everyone being normally behaved at a bar to literally dropping like flies.

It all started with this one girl who couldn't of been more than 105 lbs. She was having trouble carrying her own body weight (aka standing upright) so the other door guy and I decided it was time for her to 'kindly' leave. She however, did not take to 'kindly' to the idea of her having to respectfully exit our establishment.

She kept refusing to leave. Once I got her out one of the two doors I kindly explained to her why we asked to her leave. I very plainly, very respectfully told the girl that she had too much to drink and had become a liability to herself as well as the bar. When that didn't work I tried explaining to her that because this is a bar we reserve the right to choose to not serve anyone we please. This is when shit got personal.

'You're just mad because you're ugly,' she exclaimed. I tried to keep my cool and be professional, but this my friends, crossed the line. I know I didn't trim my beard that night, and maybe I didn't get enough sleep the night before and I was pretty tired and didn't feel very well, but that was just a blow to my confidence.

'I bet i'm better at you at anything in life. Go ahead, name one thing and i'll beat you at it.' 'Be better than me at leaving the bar,' I replied with a sarcastic tone. 'Ha. Ha,' the girl responded.

Then I just decided to go back in the bar and hold the door because I had had it up to here with this chick. She tried to open the door but because of my superior strength and masculinity she was unable to do so. 'Ohhh what a big strong man you are,' she shouted through the door. That actually made me laugh.

Then somehow when neither of us doormen were looking she snuck in the door and staged a sit in at the bar. She literally just sat down on the ground. Lifting a dead weight person is pretty difficult. Obvi, we were explaining to her friends why she needed to leave and they understood and were trying to get her to leave too, but this girl was full of perseverance. Her friends tried to get her off the ground and when they did, the other doorman and I gave each other the 'nod' and decided it was time to physically remove the girl from the bar.

He had her arms, I had her legs, and we gently placed her outside. Upon her release she tried to punch the other doorman in the nuts, and slightly connected and proceeded to steal his pen and shouted, "Haha. I've got your pen now!'' That was pretty fucking funny.

Eventually after some crying outside with her friends she FINALLY left. And that ladies and germs was my first fight...kind of (see how it all comes together? this is where I got the title for this post from).

But the madness didn't stop. One guy was standing by the bar and decided to do an improv 'trust fall.' Except nobody caught him. He just fell backwards, spilled his beer, and landed on the cold, hard, probably sticky ground. So he was gone--

Then this other guy just plainly couldn't stand up and then he fell down--so he was gone.

And 3rd times the charm as this other girl was trying to sit down in a char, but just completely missed and fell--so she was gone.

I don't know what the hell the bartenders were serving to these people that night (maybe fall down juice) but I want some.

Thanks for reading,
Justin

The 11 Hour Shift

I mean...the title pretty much sums it all up. I was supposed to go in at 6pm like normal, until my phone buzzes with an 'SMS' message at about 1pm from my manager asking me if I can come in early at 4pm. This is where my nice guy chromosome kicks in--I really didn't have a reason to not come in early so I obliged. I just of easily could of said that I couldn't but:

1. They probably needed help setting up for the big pub crawl that night, and

B. of all, more hours=extra paper in my pocket (paper is a street term for cheddar, which means green, which means money)

So I come in early at 4, and whats my first task? If you guessed shoveling snow on the sidewalk to make room for the Trolly to pull up to the bar, you're wrong. Jk. You're right. But at least the temperature outside was starting to warm up so it wasn't completely terrible.

After shoveling a pile of snow, only to create a higher pile of snow 5 feet away from the original pile, we find out that one of the back rooms is flooding. Mind you, this is all happening before 6--when the shift is supposed to actually start.

I come to the backroom to see half of it flooded with maybe an inch or two of water from melted snow. I also come to see the ridiculous method that I was told to help remedy the flood.

We were to take dust pans, sweep (pun not intended) the floor to collect water, than dump it in a garbage can. After few attempts and observing the molasses pace and progress we were making, I start think to myself, 'Hey. We're four intelligent guys here, there's gotta be a more efficient, less idiotic way to collect the water.'

This is the part of the post that I make a recommendation to bar owners/managers across the nation: Invest in a Wet-Vac. Seems like a logical product to have in a bar. But hey, that's why I'm the lowly doorman and not the great idea man.

The rest of the night went pretty smooth for how crazy people were getting. Had to kick a girl out because she literally could not stand under her own power, but overall nothing too crazy... Except for a few couples who thought that the bar was their bedroom, a fatter version of Snooki (and it wasn't a Halloween costume, just her regular outfit and hair), and a white guy who had a dancing motor that did not stop.

Sadly or hilariously, this young gentleman was getting much lower than any female i've ever seen and the dj was provoking him by playing songs that told us to 'get low' or 'drop it down low,' etc... I give him credit though, he truly danced like no one was watching. Unfortunately for him, everyone was.

I ended up leaving at 3am hence, 'The 11 Hour Shift.'

If you're gonna 'dance like no one is watching,' make sure that no one is actually watching. If you are at a crowded bar I recommend you 'dance like everybody is watching.'

The Return

Guess who's baaaaaaaack?? You got it bitches. Me.

You're probably asking yourself, ''Justin, why haven't you updated your awesome blog in the past 2 months?'' The answer to that question is, "I thought I was fired.'' Turns out I wasn't.

Basically, what it came down to was me growing a pair to confront my manager and be like, ''Hey, my username and password on the online 'schedulizer' isn't working.'' But, have no fear. I'm back with a vengeance, and a scarf (foreshadow).

Friday night was my first shift in a while, and I thought I forgot how to stand in one place for 8 hours and observe funny drunken messes. It's like riding a bike.

In the months that I was away, the bar started having bands play on their stage. When I saw this I thought, ''Alright awesome. I love bands.'' The band that played was not bad, but the general consensus between patrons and other employees alike was that they played too many boy band songs. The guy at the bar wearing a skull bandanna and long beard told me, "These guys fucking blow." I, however enjoyed their covers of *N Sync and Backstreet Boys.

There were also rules to be in this band:

1. You must wear a scarf
2. You must smoke cigs on the reg when not playing
3. You must try your best to get your hair to look like @SchneiderMon's (using twitter ID to preserve anonymity), but it's an #EpicFail, because that's impossible
4. You must be wearing a scarf at all times

Like we get it. Scarves are in. I wear them too, but not when i'm playing a show. Why? Because that wreaks of 'doucebag-ness.' Yes, you are the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of a cover band and everyone can already tell because you wear scarves on stage and smoke on the reg.

Let's see...what else happened...I saw a chick slo-motion puke almost on my shoes. That was definitely a 'life flashed before my eyes' moment'. I won't go into further detail.

I'm glad to be back. Mostly because I like the money, but really because I like writing for my millions upon millions of The Rock's fans.

Faithfully yours,

Me

The Debate

Saturday was a pretty slow day shift. Since there was no college football on (Army v. Navy doesn't count), cold and rainy weather, people didn't feel like coming to the bar and neither did I.

The first half of the shift consisted of me and the other doorman going down into the 'basement' of the bar (aka the storage room) boxing up everything and moving it to a new kitchen to be stored while the basement gets dry-walled. Sounds exciting right? It was... Knowing my luck, i'll be the poor schlub that has to put all that storage back into the basement.

Because of the bars poor occupancy, it left much room to eavesdrop the hell out of people's conversations. It made it much easier that this particular pair had polished off a couple drinks and were using their outdoor voices inside (which violates my personal beliefs). Then the question of the day was proposed by the gentleman to my buddy bartender.

The million dollar question was, "After how many dates is it appropriate to cut off communication with a girl if you haven't 'shtuped'?"

First off, the look on the woman's face who he was with was absolutely priceless. It was the extremely confused/shocked look of "wow buddy, you just blew any sort of chance you ever had," or it was the look of "wow buddy, you're such an asshole it makes me like you even more."
But just like in any debate--there are deciding factors that sway the outcome. Considering that every case is different, the discussed variables were:

• How much do you actually like/connect with/respect this person,


• How much dough are you dropping on her, and


• How much dough are you dropping on her

After discussing the different variables, the bartender replied with an answer of "3-4 dates." The men pretty much agreed. The lovely lady was still bewildered by the question.

Now i'm passing the question on to you--Ladies is pimps too, and their input is especially important. So again, after how many dates is it appropriate to stop wooing a dame (or a gentleman caller for ladies) if you haven't made 'whoopie'?

Please post your answer in the comment box below (she may have said that, but after how many dates?)

The Creepy Old Man

SPOILER ALERT: THIS WAS THE CREEPIEST MAN I'VE EVER SEEN

Sketchy people are arguably the most fun people to observe. But, this older gentlemen took sketchy, creepy, and scary to an entirely different level of uncomfortable. This goes down as the most discomfort i've ever felt witnessing a man being creepy.

I was working the door that night and there was a group of three middle-aged gentlemen at the closest table to the door. I was basically part of their party. To make matters even creepier, this was Halloween weekend so about 60-70% of the patrons that night were in costume. The night started out totally fine, the guys were eating, drinking, and being merry, but a few beers and shots later--the creepiest creeper, who we'll name Creepy Carl, decided it was time to bring out the camera.

All guys are flirty with the wait staff. Probably because they all happen to be cute young girls (shocker ay?). Carl decided to snap a couple photos of the group with their waitress who was dressed as a "naughty cop." Not that crazy--I mean, with their looks and their age, how often are these guys around cute young girls. They wanted to capitalize on their moment. Go ahead fellas. Have a ball. But then things got weird...

When the waitress was checking on her other tables, the things that came out Carl's mouth were quite shocking. I won't get into details because this is a family friendly blog, but i'll just say that Carl was quite attracted to the waitress and was describing adult activities he would like to engage in with the waitress. Looking for affirmation from his friends, Carl remarked something to the effect of, "am I right?" One of the gentlemen said, "C'mon man, i've got a daughter that age." I immediately thought in my head, "Good for you. Good for you."

Then the bar started to get really busy, filling up with scantly clad girls in their Halloween costumes. This is when Creepy Carl started going up to literally every girl in the bar approaching them with the same opener, "Can I take a picture with you?" I heard that phrase so many times that night that I will never forget it. Some girls were able to escape this completely awkward situation of being approached by a drunk middle aged man trying to snap a photo for his personal collection. Others were not so lucky and/or were too nice to say no. I thought this guy might be a serial killer and is possibly looking for the best skin suit to wear ala Buffalo Bill. Then the zooming in happened--I think you get the picture (pun intended).

Then me and the other guy working the door started having a little fun with this weirdo. We would pop behind the pictures of random girl and Carl and try to ruin the picture by giving them bunny ears, and antlers, and making funny faces to try and relieve some of the creepy-ness (being as discrete as possible of course).

Countless times, the very nice waitress who had to put up with this party would come over to me and the other bouncer and tell us "this is the strangest night of my life." She definitely made a months rent that night however, which she was stoked about.

I made a promise, nay, a vow to myself that I would never be that creepy ever in my life. Guys shouldn't have a camera at the bar in the first place. That's just part of guy code. Only females bring camera's to the bar to show how great/terrible of photographers they think they are (but that's a different article for a different blog).

Moral of the story: Don't be like Creepy Carl. And if you're a guy, you shouldn't have a camera at the bar.

Do's and Don'ts

In my experience working the door, I have compiled a list of Do's and Don'ts that should be followed for a successful customer/bouncer encounter.

Do's:

• Bring your ID--you would be surprised how many people come to the bar without an ID and expect to get in. Are you kidding??
• Have your ID ready--this one goes out to all the ladies out there. It's very frustrating when you ladies have huge purses filled with everything but the kitchen sink and struggle to find your ID upon entering the bar. The next line spoken is typically, "wait. I swear I have it." 5 min later, "it's here I promise."
  
• Be kind and courteous to the guy at the door--It's like pissing of a waiter at a restaurant. Don't mess with the people that handle your food, don't mess with the people that let you in the bar. I won't spit in your drink, but if you piss off a bouncer you have a target on your back the rest of the night (we're not drunk so we know who you are)

Don'ts:

• Try and dap up (shake hands in a hip fashion) the guy at the door--This one goes out to the fella's. We don't care if you are trying to impress your friends by looking cool. Just give the ID and go.
• Piss us off--see above
• Hold on to your ID while we are trying to check it--I'll give it back if you are 21 I promise.
• Give me your ID and while i'm looking at your ID start to walk away as if you're soooo 21 that getting your ID checked is so beyond you--It only makes you look more suspicious.
  
• Approach me and tell me that you are gonna hook up with that chick--you're not.

This is a very short list that will account for a positive evening.