Saturday, August 22, 2020

Bar Owner Takes Revenge On Lousy Bartender


Oh, Mike, you brought this on yourself, buddy. If Mike had simply played by the rules, and provided even decent customer service, he probably could've avoided this whole meltdown. But alas, Mike was blinded by the desires of booze and women. At least the revenge was a thing of beauty. 

1.

Text - r/ProRevenge u/SloppyEyeScream • 3h + Join 1 1 The Homeless Guy Works Here? TLDR: Mike Was A Shitty Bartender; Mike Is Now Unemployed! I am a corporate headhunter of sorts. I entered the "family business" when the reality of life bitch slapped me in the face. I didn't know it at the time, but it is the best decision I ever made. I spent my formative years growing up in the Midwest. There, I worked in the other family business which was the restaurant industry.

2.

Text - My family owned and operated two separate restaurants. They were both "Mom and Pop" style restaurants, and were pretty successful. My parents decided to venture out on a limb though, and shortly before I joined the Army they transformed one of them into a Gastropub. It was outfitted with a hundred taps of beer, and a higher quality menu. I was an adolescent shithead and worked at both restaurants. The employees there were, and continue to be a second family. I grew up washing dishes, clea

3.

Text - OP: Yeah? Dick: I need six black roosters. Make sure they are black. OP: Dick. The only chicken we have is dead. Dick: Goddamn it OP. Tell your mom I need six black roosters. OP: Okay, but for what? Dick: The six black roosters? OP: Yeah. Dick: Oh. They're going to be pallbearers. I need to bury a dead COCK!

4.

Text - That was my Sunday routine for years as a child. I loved working in the restaurant. I was excited for the one to change, but I knew it would lose some of the charm, and I wasn't sure how many regulars would stick around. Nevertheless, the restaurant changed and I eventually joined the Army. Home was now an afterthought. I had joined the Army and started my adult life. I have always been the independent type. I never write home, and I would not expect a call from me; ever. I returned home

5.

Text - I decided that I would meet up with an old friend on my first evening in town. Nick actually recommended that we go to my parents pub. It was a Friday night, and the place would be booming due to the proximity of a larger university. I thought it was a great idea, and I was anxious to return to my stomping grounds. I still had my post-deployment beard, and honestly looked like a homeless bum. I was out of give-a-fucks regarding my overall appearance though. I was not dressed to impress. N

6.

Text - Sandy: See that tall bartender? OP: Yeah. Sandy: That's Mike. He is a fucking asshole, and he acts like he runs the place. OP: Sandy, I am an asshole. That doesn't necessarily mean he is a bad employee. Sandy: He is responsible for running out all the old waitresses, and I am pretty sure he is giving away your parents money! OP: Okay Sandy. I will watch him.

7.

Text - I plop my ass back at the bar and continue conversations with Nick. I really didn't pay much attention to Mike. I knew my mother was happy to have him on the staff. He was formally trained as a bartender and had very high reviews from his past employers. According to my mother, he "alleviated stress" which is never a bad thing. Nick and I proceed to order and catch up. We both order Blue Moon's and the Cajun chicken and Fettuccine Alfredo. We exchanged stories, devoured our food, and dran

8.

Text - Mike: I will be with you in a minute. He was semi-busy so I waited. Then I waited some more. He was with a group of three college aged females. He had already completed there order. He had been talking with them for no less than ten minutes. This was no longer a business interaction. Mike was clearly seeking an opportunity to hide the beef bus in tuna town, and I was growing impatient. Aside from Nick and I, there was only a handful of humanoids at the bar. The three college ladies, anoth

9.

Text - The place, to include the bar, was now starting to fill up. Other people were patiently waiting now. Mike was a statue. The only time he moved was to offer the ladies a free round of Blow Job shots. Mike was classy. I was not completely bothered by this until he gave them free shots of Top Shelf Tequila. This is not bar science. You give your free shots to paying customers. People whom are going to contribute to the till. Furthermore, you toast with tea or water when a patron buys you a s

10.

Text - I was livid. Nick suggested I call my mom. I have been told "snitches get stitches". Calling my mom was not an option. She is a kindhearted idiot. Really, Read "No Mom. It's Called Kidnapping" if you want to get a sense of how oblivious she is. Furthermore, I am a sociable- asshole. I am capable of dealing with problems. I may completely and utterly disregard proportionality, but I can deal with my own problems. OP: Nick. You want a Blue Moon? Nick: Yeah. If that fucker ever comes back. O

11.

Text - I should mention the cops. Yes, the fucking cops. It was a Friday, and this pub was well established. College kids drink. College kids, specifically "men", are on the hunt for anything with two legs and a ham wallet or squish mitten (Vagina People!). They are there for the good looking ladies, the average ladies, and the swamp donkey or stable gator (Ugly Lady). The cops know this. The cops are also familiar with the drunken dick measuring contest which typically occurs in the parking lot

12.

Text - I depart my bar stool en route to the bar entrance. It was on the opposite side of Nick and I. I lift the bar gate and proceed my way to the Blue Moon tap. Mike was oblivious. He was still enamored with the intellectually gifted and freshly minted 21 year old crowd of three. (I am not saying every college kid is an idiot. I overheard their conversation though. These bitches were dumb.) I pour Nick and I our drinks. I fulfill the order for one of the regulars and tend to the couple. Manhat

13.

Text - I am in the process of making my way back out to freedom and I am jolted back by my arm. It was Mike. He is clearly aware of my presence now. I must admit, he was much taller than I thought he was. I was nearly dangling by my tiptoes, and I could smell the $20 bucks worth of free tequila permeate from his ball-washer hole (mouth). Mike: What the fuck do you think you are doing behind the bar? OP: Getting drinks??? Mike: You're fucking outta hear man. (And then quite literally drags me to

14.

Text - OP: I'm not fucking leaving man. I am going to go back over there. SIT BACK DOWN, AND FINISH MY BEER. Mike: Look asshole. If you don't leave now I am going to call the cops. OP: Fucking call them! Mike: LOOK! (Points to furniture store parking lot.) They are right over there. You're fucking choice. OP: Mike. You're fucking fired! Mike: (Laughing hysterically.) I am fucking fired? Who the fuck do you think you are?

15.

Text - Mike then attempts to shove me through the front door. We are now making a scene and the hostess and head chef are now present. Mike is laughing hysterically. The chef is telling me to leave, and the poor scared hostess is dialing the cops. OP: Don't fucking touch me. I am not going anywhere. Let's just call the cops and have them sort this out.

16.

Text - Although we were clearly on opposite sides of this little predicament, everyone agreed that calling the police was the correct answer. Dear Reader, it didn't take long. I look through the window and see a beautifully lit police cruiser making its way to our location. Well. Fuck me right? Mike, chef, and hostess get to the cops first. They are explaining their side of the story which I must admit sounds pretty believable. Mostly because what they were explaining is EXACTLY how it happened.

17.

Text - Imagine a circle full of mostly pissed off people, and two cops. Imagine one of them in hand cuffs. COP 1: Sir, did you go behind the bar an pour yourself alcohol. OP: Yes. COP 2: Sir, you now you can't do that right? It's illegal. OP: No. Not really. COP 1: Sir. Yes. It is in fact illegal. OP: Not if I work here! Not if I am an owner (I am.) COP 1: (Addressing the group.) Is this true? Group: NO! (Laughing.) He doesn't work here!

18.

Text - OP: Why don't we ask Sandy? She has been here for nearly 20 years. She will vouch for me. Mike now has an odd look in his eyes. The laughter has subsided rapidly. COP 1: Why don't we get Sandy over here. (Sandy arrives.) COP 1: Ma'am. This guy is saying he works here. Is that true? Sandy: Yes. Mike/Chef: That doesn't mean he works here. Just because a waitress says he does. Sandy: Why don't we just go to the office and and look at the employee roster?

19.

Text - Mike: (The smirk has reemerged) Sure. Let's go to the office. Our merry band of disgruntled fucks and two cops make their way to the office. It is now the moment of truth. Mike: How are you going to get on the computer? IT IS PASSWORD PROTECTED. OP: Can you please remove the handcuffs? I know the password. COP: How about you just tell it to me, and I type it. OP: MYthreeBOYz! BOOM. That mother fucking computer jumps to life. We are now about to explore the bowels of the employee files. Oh

20.

Text - OWNERS: DAD МОМ ОP OP Brother 1 OP Brother 2 Mike: (Clinging on for dear life. Just looking for driftwood to stay afloat.) THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU ARE HIM! OP: Officer. Can you please remove my wallet from my back left pocket and get my identification?

21.

Text - They do, and now Sandy has my mother on the line. The cops would like to talk to her. Thankfully, they kept the conversation brief. "Is OP NAME your son and is he an owner?" YES! I am now removed from the handcuffs. The cops kindly excuse themselves to allow me to run my pub. The reality of life now bitch slapped Mike. OP: Mike. Like I said. You're fucking fired. Now get your shit, and get the fuck out of here, OR I WILL CALL THE COPS. (I point) They are right over there in the parking lo

22.

Text - Mike: Please. I moved her from Chicago. I just bought a new house; a new car. OP: Yeah Mike!?! Well it turns out I don't give a fuck. Get you shit o...(Point to the cops) Mike collected his shit and left. I had a brief huddle with the rest of the workers that were currently there. I kindly explained who I was, and that I am not typically always a prick, but Mike rubbed me wrong. Then I did exactly what I told Mike I would do. Sat back down, and drank my fucking beer.

23.

Text - The fallout. Well, my mom was fucking pissed. I mean really pissed, and threaten to remove me as an owner. My dad is more rational due to our shared line of work. I convinced him to hire a company to audit the liquor. They did. Turns out mike was giving away nearly $700 month in free booze. It was merely hidden by the success of the restaurant, and that fact that my mother was too hands-off to notice. My mother would later on kidnap my child, according to legal definition, so I think we a

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