I don’t often speak up when confronted, or witnessing a confrontation, from an outside instigator, but when I do; boy, does my quick wit show them… So, some assholes came up to the bar at closing time last night. This is what happened. Asshole 1: What time do you close tonight? Co-worker: About five minutes, […]


As someone who has worked in the bar trade for a while, there is a specific breed of customer that I have learned to dread. Often misinterpreted as a friendly novelty, I speak of the ‘beloved regular‘, in essence, a person who frequents the bar on an almost daily basis. I do not speak of the voluptuous, mysterious New York bombshell, who sits in a dark corner with a martini and a book, dolling out snide, off the cuff witticisms to dispel the hopes of any would be suitors as we see in so many films. No, I’m talking about the British regular… The overweight, over-the-hill, miserable, lonely alcoholic.

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