I’m standing onstage cleaning and this guy is like, “I think I left my coat in the lap dance room,” and stops. We stare at each other for a long while. Finally I ask,
“Do I look as if I am in a position to know whether your coat is in the lap dance room?” I gesture at the actual bouncers actually standing in the lap dance room. “Do you see anyone potentially more qualified than I am who might be available to ask?”
“I just thought—”
I glower at him. “No you didn’t.”

The uncomprehending stare was a repeating feature of the night. All night! Drunk people are so fucking stupid!
I actually don’t have a leg to stand on here having been preeeeetty shwasted and wild last night—but shenanigans in a bar bathroom aren’t the same as wasting underpaid bar staff’s time.

I was clearing drinks and asked a table full of guys if I could take their empties. They stared at me blankly too.
“Has the alcohol finally rotted your brain? I swear to god, men, you’re all fucking brain damaged.”
They looked even blanker.

But actually you know I love to complain about drunk people and I also love coming to work and how clear cut it all is. It’s so super easy, do this get that reaction. It’s really soothing, especially when I’m stressed out.

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