Two of a Kind
I work as a bartender in a small cocktail bar for some time now, and I’m usually chill. But jerks still push my buttons in the wrong way. Before starting, I may be in the wrong for doing this, but it is what it is. A week ago, a bunch of guys came for a few drinks.
They seemed like okay dudes, early 20s, but the group dynamic was kind of off. Now, introducing the main antagonist. He was an obnoxious guy, too loud, snapping his fingers at me when ordering (don’t snap fingers at bartenders kids, we’re not dogs), punching his friends in the shoulders all the time.
Basically, a sportier, really aggressive version of a David Spade character. Next to David Spade sat the victim of most of his “playful” teasing. I really felt sorry for this fellow. He wasn’t a drinker, and he looked like he would rather be drinking from the toilet than continue sitting next to this macho maniac.
He was really uncomfortable. David continued to bug him to take a shot at least, “Come on, one with me, don’t be a wimp.” Until, after a whole night of persuasion, finally my dude waved the white flag. Ok, let’s do one shot together, then leave me be.
“Two of your most messed up shots,” Spade shouted, snapping his fingers at me, while I imagined snapping his neck. Oh, you’ll get a messed up shot, buddy. I gave him a very “special” present. I made two shots, but while looking almost the same, they were different.
David got stuff like Red Jacques absinthe, Tabasco, etc. Really nasty business altogether. The other guy got mostly syrups and juices, harmless stuff. They looked almost identical, nonetheless. They took their shots and all heck broke loose.
The good guy chugged his shot like a champion, not even flinching (why would he, he drank juice). But David Spade…Boy, oh boy. He looked like he’d have a brain aneurysm. Tears pouring from eyes, coughing like his lungs want to come out, he had a face and a posture of a man who just got tormented with some sort of chili sauce.
The other guy looked surprised until he caught a wink from me, but David Spade and the rest of the crew, now roaring with laughter about his misery, suspected nothing. They got their shots on the house, poor dude was left alone, and David was a good boy for the rest of the night, defeatedly enduring small mockings from his fellows.
Now, I may have used my powers in the wrong way, but this is the first and only time I messed with customers’ drinks. And I regret nothing. He was rude, aggressive even, to everyone around him. Screw you, sporty David Spade. Story credit: Reddit / Strahozor