It’s Friday night. I’m closing the bar tonight, so I’m not required to be there until 6. Lately, on Fridays, it’s been kind of slow, so I saunter in around 6:15.
Of course, it’s slammed.
The printer is chattering off drink orders for the restaurant, the bar is full of customers, and my bartender is running around like a crazy man.
There’s a group of regulars at the end of the bar, and they’re celebrating. The ringleader, a slow redneck-type that comes in occasionally, is buying drinks for the whole group, and for everyone he knows that walks by.
Now, this group’s tab is starting to skyrocket, and we’re starting to get a little nervous. We’ve gotten shafted by this guy on numerous occasions, and it seems that the higher his tab is, the less of a tip we get.
But we don’t have time to worry about that, because they’re making us work. Hard. Mojitos for all his friends, margaritas all around, beers, shots, wine, you name it. And Redneck’s putting everyone’s drink on his tab, like the King of Siam. Everyone loves a big spender.
Eventually they start to wind down, and Redneck asks for his tab. The other bartender presents it to him and he freaks out.
“There’s no way we had all of these drinks”, he says.
“I’m sorry, but we ring in every round into the computer when you order them, so the tab should be accurate”, my bartender tells him.
“Well there’s no possible way we had all of this.” He starts to try to tally how many drinks everyone had, while drunk, of course. “You had, like, four or five beers, right? And how many mojitos did you drink between the three of you? Four? Five?”
This guy is getting to be a problem, and we’re still really busy. So he informs my bartender that he refuses to pay for about 30 bucks worth of drinks. Fine, whatever, says the bartender, and comps them off of his tab. The guy’s a friend of the owners’, we’ll just call the bosses and tell them what happened later.
But here’s the clincher: after running us ragged for three hours on a busy Friday night, after whittling down his tab by refusing to pay, after cleaning up his friends’ spilled beers and putting up with their drunken antics all night, he left us (drumroll, please) ..
Karma works in strange ways, pal.