Things not to say to the doorman on your way in to the bar, no matter how happy he looks

“But I turn 21 next week!”
Well, darlin, as of next week, you’ll be able to enjoy all the alcohol you want at any of the fine drinking establishments in town, and the number of guys you can add to your bedpost notches will grow dramatically. Until then, sounds like you’ll enjoy drinking at home.

“I just got out of jail for beating up a door guy.”
If this is a challenge, it’s not a very smart one, since when you fuck with one member of a bar staff, you tend to fuck with them all. If it’s meant to impress upon me that you’re just here to have a good time and won’t be disruptive, you may want to spend a few hours working on that approach.

“This is no way to treat a regular.”
Wow, really? I don’t recognize you, you don’t recognize me — you must not be very regular.

“I don’t have an ID, but they let me in here last week.”
First, thanks for jeopardizing our bar license twice in a week. It doesn’t matter if you’re 21 or 81, if the ABC board decides to have one of it’s random raids on a night when you’re in, we’re screwed — including large fines for every person on staff that night, and for the bar as an entity. And I don’t want to get my ass kicked by the bartenders, the barback, the owner… It’s not just that you have to be 21 or older to drink in a bar; you must have PROOF that you are 21 or older. That’s the law. Don’t take it up with me. Talk to your congressman.

“Yeah, I was banned, but Bartender X isn’t here tonight.”
Well, shitmonkey, the rest of us are.

“I’ve got three grams of coke I’m looking to unload.”
Not in this bar, champ. Even if I’m sympathetic to your cause, as it were, I enjoy having a bar to come to work at, one that hasn’t gotten shut down in a raid. Take it elsewhere.

“I love to get fucked up and FIGHT!”
I love telling you at the door that you’ll be getting fucked up elsewhere, because the least favorite part of my job is breaking up fights.

“I’ll blow you if you’ll let my underage friend in.”
This used to seem like a worthwhile trade, until you consider that these girls have probably been to a few bars already, and I’m not a big fan of contributing to the town square fountain.

Ah, weekends at the bar… What fun you can have. Or so I hear.

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