Zach Hates You

Shorty McDrunktard and his doucheposse

The 4th of July is always a slow night in the bar industry.  Everyone is outside during the day enjoying the warm weather, tossing back a drink or eight, and waiting around for day to turn to night so they can enjoy the pyrotechnics.  After being outside and playing all day, most people are partied out.  They go home and the bars don’t get too busy.  When working in the industry, it makes for a slow night.  Knowing ahead of time about a less busy night means we don’t run a full staff.  It also mean sales aren’t as good, but for a bouncer like me, I get paid the same.  Sucks to be bar staff that relies on tips to make money, but I get paid the same for a slow night as a busy one.

In my experiences working in bars, slow nights usually go one of two ways.  The first (and more preferable) is I’m bored off my ass and nothing happens.  Time sloooooowly goes by, the doors shut, and I get paid for standing around for a few hours.  The other way is much more annoying.  Due to less people in the bar/club, people think that they can act even more redeculous then normal.  I had a few stupid shits last night, but one really got me heated.

I hate people that are entitled.  People think that because they promote a night, know someone that works in the bar, paid money to be “VIP” or they’re celebrities/part of their entourage they can do whatever they want without any consequences.  That doesn’t fly with me.  When I have to talk to them about being an assclown and they get indigent because some club lackey is upset with them for just having a good time, they think they don’t have to listen.  They try to act as if they are better then the people that are providing them services.  Things are said about how much more money they make, how they can get me fired, or my favorite, “Do you know who I am?”

Oh, please bitch.  If you had any idea who I or my friends are, you wouldn’t even walk near us.  Most of my friends are like myself; we’re ex or current military from mostly combat related jobs, train to fight (and enjoy fighting very much), and really hate people.  We don’t want to know, talk, or even want to interact with you.  We want to look bored, talk to each other and get done with the night.  You want to cause trouble and be annoying.

The only reason why some people are still alive are because there are laws against killing them.

This brings me to the winner of the “Douchebag of the Night” award.  The above pictured fuckstick is a relative to one of the promoters.  He’s maybe, maybe 140lbs soaking wet with rocks in his pockets and at most 5′4″.  So this tiny dude was walking around throwing elbows, punches and grabbing his buddies in MMA style moves.  Cute, the midget thinks he’s a badass fighter.  Due to the fact I know he’s some annoying promoters buddy, talking to him isn’t going to do anything.  After a fairly easy night, most people have left, the doors are closed and the promoters and friends are still around.  The little guy then throws a friend in a really deep RNC and is being choked.  I break the lock and am a bit pissed at this short, drunk fucker now.  I tell him it’s time to leave and go out the door.  The friend he was just choking tells me, “It’s ok, he’s with me and just playin’.”  Funny about that, it’s not ok.  The one that was being choked apologizes about his friend, but short and stumbly has a retarded looking stare going on and doesn’t say a word.  Sure, ignoring me is a great way to make me go away.  What?  It didn’t work and just makes me more upset?  Funny about that…

Now I’m even more pissed.  So now trying to get this cockass to acknowledge me, he grabs his beer and walks away.  No, you don’t get to do that to me.  I take his beer, toss it in the trash, and he doesn’t even bat his eyes.  He’s fucking drunk.  I get a couple of my buddies now to help me deal with this pain in my ass.  The munchkins friends are telling me how they are “going to take care of him,” as stupid friends always say and tell me they are leaving.  They don’t.  The whole lot of them are standing around not going out the door.  I tell them if he ever wants to come back, the time to leave is now.  He tells me that I can go fuck myself.  Groovy.

So its been about fifteen minutes since I’ve started to talk to these guys and the little shit is now running his mouth.  The best line to come out of his mouth is “Look, everyone is scared of me.”  Oh shit!  He’s right!  I’m scared of a tiny little drunk man that I tower over.  I worry about people like him all the time.  I tremble in my boots to people such as him.  I’m sure that you my dear reader, can read sarcasm.  If not, I suggest reading more simple writing such as Dr. Suess books or just sticking to books that don’t have words, just pretty pictures.  Like porn.

The group is finally on the way out the door and wee man has to shake everyone’s hand.  He goes to my first two buddies that have had to tolerate him much less then me and they both shake his hand.  I don’t normally shake hands with people I want to curbstomp, but I remembered words of a friend that I spoke with last night in my head about sometimes it’ll make it quicker to get them the fuck out.  So I bite my lip and shake his hand.  He then mutters, “See look how scared they are.”  At that point I had to walk away.  I still haven’t struck anyone while doing security.  I’ve laid on some nasty chokes and I’ve been a complete asshole for the sake of being a dick, but I haven’t hit anyone or left marks on them.  I did something that I really hate people doing to me:

I took his picture

Now that set the little guy off.  He’s going off about me taking a picture with my “god damn pussy” iPhone and blah blah blah.  I finally hit a nerve.  Still, this guy needs a serious asskicking and, Flying Spaghetti Monster willing, a castration.

I hate this club.  I work other places and I call myself a doorguy or security.  Here, I feel like I’m a bouncer, an enforcer, a thug.  No one listens to what I tell them, being nice and polite is a waste of breath, and the only thing they respond to is violence.  I’m really good at that part.  I go to work with the mindset of going to war against stupidity.  It’s always a losing battle.  Shitty music that is replayed multiple times in the night, ignorant people, and stuck up promoters that think they run the place.  All these people can die in a fire.  Twice.  Waste of oxygen the whole fucking lot of them.