Riddle me this!

What is it with guys trying to pick up bartenders? We are literally the ONLY females in the establishment who did not choose to be there to meet people or socialize - we are working. And we'll probably tell you anything you want to hear for $10. Are you really so cocky and convinced that you're different from every other guy that tries to pick us up? Here is what makes one different from the other - where they land on the spectrum of stupid pick up lines. There will certainly be a series devoted to this one, stay tuned for that. But we'll start with this little gem from last night:

Guy: There's a difference between being a man of the world and a man of the earth.
Me: Okay...
Guy: It's a man's world but a woman's earth.
Me: uh huh (subtext: what the fuck are you talking about?)
Guy: You know, I would light you up! Make you shrimp marinara.
Me: Oh, that's very nice (just tip me).

Okay... Why are you talking in riddles? That is definitely not a panty dropper. I know you're trying to sound profound but you actually sound like Dr. Seuss. Now you just sound crazy or confused. And then after making no sense at all, you offer to make me shrimp marinara? Who does that? Does that ever work for you on non-bartenders? Please, just tip me and I'll buy myself the shrimp marinara and eat it in solitude where no one bothers me with non-sensical riddles or trying to get in my pants.

I don't like liars.

Don't tell me you're going to meet the tab minimum with a big tip when the truth is: I'm going to make and alter your drink five times while you change your order around because you have a lack of communication skills and/or a crippling inability to make decisions. Tell me what you want! My job is to serve you! Help me help you! And then after I finally give you what you finally decide you want, you write a big fat "0" in the tip section of your check. Seriously? How's this for service? The next time a customer makes me jump through hoops because of their own failure to be human and then leaves me no tip, I'm going to cut them. Not cut them off, just cut them. And trust me, the law will be on my side with this one.

I am not an DJ.

If this dumb bitch doesn't stop asking me to play Mariah Carey's Heartbreaker I'm going to break something else, like her face. I am not a DJ. I am a bartender. I make drinks. See that shiny blinking appliance over there? That's a jukebox! It plays music. I make drinks. Music. Drinks. Music. Drinks. See the difference?

Comic Illustration by Liza Biggers.

Slow and steady

Whenever someone asks me for something "real quick', I feel the burning desire to move obnoxiously slow - just because I can. Also because I think said someone is an a-hole for asking for a glass of water "real quick." You didn't cross the Mohave to get to this bar, you just let too many ugly, sweaty fat girls grind on you on the dance floor and now you're thirsty. Until you grow some manners and a pair of balls, I'll just take my sweet time with your bullsh*t order. Thanks.