I’m at the bar, this mature woman asks for her tab.  As I’ve done, a friggin thousand times, I get her card, run it, hand it to her. She flips out. Did you not see the back of my card?  It says SEE ID. Oh, it does? I didn’t notice. Yes, well, it’s there for a reason.

I just look at her. With the strength of Zeus, I keep my mouth shut. I’m sure the not saying anything is causing my face to turn beet red. A surge of anger flows through me, as if I was taking a shower in the asshole of hell. After a moment of containment, I say, I’m really sorry bout that. I’ve actually never done that before. Next time I get one, I’ll be sure to check it. She says, yes, that would be a wise idea.

Tonight a girl asks if I can run her card. I say sure, I grab her card, check the back, and notice that it says SEE ID. Before I run it, I go back to her, hold up the card to her, and point to the words on the back of her card. She says, oh yeah, and gets her ID from her bag. Then she says, oh, thank you so much for asking. Not everybody does that. I really appreciate it.

Yep. One of the best lessons this stubborn asshole has ever learned in bartending.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.


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