What's in? Cider.
Sunday 20 May 2007
I always seem to miss the good stuff.
Last night, Jabba, Edmonson and the others had got everybody out of the complex after closing, locked up, and were almost on the verge of going home, when a call came over the radio. "ALL DOORS TO..." and the address was given.
That's right. Another massive punchup.
But this time: somebody had a knife. The police came out on three separate occasions. And some unfortunate woman got huge clumps of hair pulled out from the back of her head. By another woman. And both were primary school teachers. God bless the kid who won't stop talking in that class.
Friday is a volatile bugger of a night; generally peaceful, when it kicks off it really goes for it. Of course, it's a big check-in day for the 'weekend crowd', who are usually hardcore drinkers. Most of them you need to keep a casual eye on but they never really go beyond the 'silly drunk' stage, but there's always a few that are one snakebite away from a massive domestic. Or worse.
(And yes - my place does serve snakebite. It even has a button on the till. I couldn't believe it; I thought Hastings outlawed that years ago.)
So, Jabba wasn't in the best of moods early on tonight, particularly as we're currently being fucked-over for our wages due to an 'agreement' to pay back the company for our licenses, in chunks. This is probably fair enough, but we have also been promised an 'incentive bonus' to keep us sweet, and to kind of help us ignore that we're doing the work of a promised ten door supervisors, each night, with only 2-4 of us actually present. And yes, you guessed it, while the money is being taken out, it ain't going back in. So we're losing almost a day's pay each time we get paid. Which, as you may have gathered, sucks. You can't help analysing it to the point where you feel that the worst day of the week is the one you basically worked for free.
And when at 6.15pm - fifteen minutes after we'd started our shift - Jabba had to kick a drunk out for repeatedly giving the bird to the lead ENTS girl, it had 'bad omen' written all over it.
Amazingly, it ended up being basically alright.
Very, very busy, with lots of pissheads, but even though I spent a good couple of hours dealing with the same x amount of cunts repeatedly going back on to the dance floor with their pints, cigarettes, syringes, nunchukas, etc etc, they were an amicable sort and always apologised. They were simply just pissed, is all it was. No lip. No attitude. Just drunks. It quickly becomes tedious but better that, of course, than more psychos. Although one pair of dickheads did manage to drop a full pint right in the middle of the dance floor, their shame was to such an extent that they escorted themselves out. Trust me - that's the good shit.
And - gasp - we even got a pint picked up for us after work. Mine was a Blackthorn. I tell you what, I've drunk more cider in the past couple of weeks than ever before in my life. I went out last night and had about 11 pints, which is something I'd never have contemplated even a few months ago. The old palette is a strange beast, indeed.
I'm doing a couple of Friday nights in June to cover another chap's holiday leave and you know I'm going to get all kinds of crap. Meh.
I'm also working Thursday this week, simply because I'm broke, principally because of the reasons outlined earlier on in the post. What this means for you guys is more exciting bloggage. You probably haven't paid much attention to my blog timestamps (you selfish bastards), but each week they've dropped a little bit, and this boy's got to eat. So I'm gonna throw in a couple of extra days each month. Just to cover the cider.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:30 am
