This girl at the bar is really annoying me. She asks for my name, like a dummy, I give it to her. The problem, when they know your name, they use it, constantly. Clint! Come here I need to say something to you. It’s especially annoying when you’re busy. You hear your name, you look up, get distracted. And this girl is using my name every five minutes.
It’s around 12:30, I’ve got it in the ass for two hours straight, she says, her 45th, Clint, Clint!!! I go to her, say, yes? She says, do you have pineapple vodka? I look back at the liquor bottles, just to make sure. Nope, I say. She says, you don’t? I say, nope. She says, why don’t you have pineapple vodka?
Something snaps in my brain.
I stare her down with hatred. I’m sorry, I’m just being honest. I say, calmly, yet intensely. We. Have. No. Pineapple. Vodka. I don’t know how else I can say it.
She sits up straight, gets this shocked look on her face. It’s as if your best friend just told you she doesn’t want to be your best friend anymore.
She gets really, really, quiet. Just fucking great. Now, I gotta deal with this. Good job, Clint. Losing your cool.
I step back for a moment, take a breath. I’m gonna pay for this one. Somehow.
Minute later, I start making her a drink. I set it down in front of her, say, here’s a vodka pineapple. That’s on me. She looks shell-shocked, with a thousand yard stare into the drink. She doesn’t say anything. Her world is crushed, has come to the end.
I back up, go do dishes. Another customer comes up, orders a couple drinks.
You know, sometimes, it’s like trying to commit suicide in a puddle, dealing with customers.
It’s very hard to do.