...There is nothing like working at a locally owned, small, personal bar, an intriguing little place on what used to be a pretty terrifying spot in this city. You get to see things that I've never seen in places of previous employment. My job is at one of the coolest, weirdest spots in Memphis, and it's theme is so nautical and retro, fucked up and fancy comfortable, I'm not suprised nor alarmed by the oddities I come across.
It was a Saturday night, Live Music Night! The band was tearing it up, dancin' hippie kids filled some tiny spaces gettin their groove on, the atmosphere was cheerful, laid-back and supremely fun.
There was this capital D to the -runk woman in there. She was harmless, but she was lacking all candor at this point in her life and was making kind of an ass out of herself. I didn't mind this, but I was a bit put out by her pushiness at insisting that 1) she wanted a glass of wine in a plastic to go cup, but she wasn't really going to take it anywhere, she was just going to drink it in the bar in a to go cup, 2) she honestly didn't believe we don't have to go cups 3) when I told her all we have are cone cups that we use to cover up the liquor bottles at night, she asked for a to go cone of wine.. even though (she swore) she wasn't going to take it anywhere.
Whatever, lady. You're insane. I know you're trying to leave the bar with alcohol. Guess what? It's so not happening for you here. I am definitely not losing my job over some drunk lady who should realistically already be passed out at home. So she gets all whiny, even though I most certainly didn't put it all out like that, and gets up really close to me, and asks me if I know where to get pot. She didn't put it out precisely like that... but it was quite obvious what the woman wanted. She wasn't being slick. It was blatant. I wasn't taken aback; this has happened several times throughout my life. I suppose, even though I haven't been a stoner since my teenage years (now more than a decade behind me) I still emanate that vibe. It's not terribly flattering. My hemp wearing is quite minimal these days, I've retired my old daily attire of homemade patchwork clothing, I no longer listen to jam bands... yet all the time I get people asking me about weed. It's becoming irritating.. but that's a whole other tangent that I'm starting off in.
Anyway, I tell this woman that no, I do not know where she can get what she's looking for, and when she objects like I'm trying to be not cool, I straight tell her, "Ma'am, I've only lived here for a month. I've only been working here for a week, if that. I am being honest when I tell you that not only have I no clue whatsoever where you can find this, I also don't use it myself!"
And then finally we make her leave. She falls down in the middle of the street (of course she did!) and off came her slip-on chunky bottom shoes. I guess this peeved her off because she then hurled one shoe at a distribution warehouse across the street (her other shoe ended up in back in the bar somehow). Her purse was lost as well. I couldn't help but laugh. This is the kind of real life shenanigan that is worth recording.
The moral of the story is: don't get stoned and try to hold down our drinks; we pour with a heavy hand. If you can't hang, go home and go to bed. Also, wear flat shoes if you're going to be stumbling around in a drunken stupor. Duh.
