Gut Rumbles

August 09, 2005

a bartending story

I think I blogged about this before, but if I did, it's buried deep in my archives. It's a story worth telling again.

I was supposed to open the bar at 4:00 in the afternoon. I drove by the owner's house to pick up the keys and my $150 bank. I went to River Street, opened the bar, turned on all the lights, put my bank in the register, turned on the jukebox (we had special "house" quarters for that thing, just to make a little noise--- the quarters were dyed red and they stayed in a box next to the cash register), filled the ice bins and made sure the beer taps were primed and working.

I left the front door propped open to maybe lure in a few early customers. I was behind the bar when I saw a silouette appear in the door. It was a man holding a very LARGE gun. I almost shit my pants. I KNEW that I was about to be robbed and killed for my $150 bank that wasn't even MY money.

The guy walked up, laid a shotgun down on the bar and asked for a beer. I told him that I couldn't serve him if he was carrying a shotgun, and I ALSO told him that he scared the shit out of me walking in the way he did with that weapon.

He laughed and said, "Ya'know... I didn't even think about that. I guess I DID look kinda scary, but I just bought this thing. Whadda ya think of it?" and he handed it to me. It was a very nice Remington 12-gauge pump. Not loaded.

I handed it back to him and said, "Mister, I'll be more than happy to sell you all the beer you want to drink, but you've got to get that gun outta here."

He went to the parking lot, put the shotgun in the trunk of his car and returned to the bar. "Can I get a beer now?" he asked.

I poured him a beer, but my hands were still shaking. I thought I was gonna be killed that afternoon. At the age of 26, on a job that paid $1.20 an hour, for a $150 bank in the register. I didn't want to go in such a trivial fashion.

He actually turned out to be a very pleasant fellow, and he left me a good tip. But he scared the living shit out of me when he walked in the door. The only thing we kept behind the bar to handle bad-asses was an empty Galliano bottle, and that ain't no match for a shotgun.

Tend bar for a while and you'll have some stories to tell.


Years ago I walked into a bar in a little town called Belt, Montana and in the artcic entrace way was a big sign "CHECK ALL GUNS WITH BARTENDER" Must have been some wild cowboys there.

Posted by: GUYK on August 9, 2005 04:11 PM

A researcher at Cornell University discovered that men made to feel insecure about their masculinity expressed more support for the war in Iraq, were more willing to purchase an SUV, and expressed more hate for homos.

Also makes stubby-plutzers blog old stuff over again, oh and resent & hate real men who get BJs from willing, admirring women where ever they go, say to the office.

Explains a lot don't it.

Posted by: Amiel on August 9, 2005 04:27 PM

Amiel--- are you offering me a blow-job?

If so, I politely refuse. I've had more than you'll ever get, and you just ain't my type.

Posted by: Acidman on August 9, 2005 04:44 PM

I was a barmaid in college and the bartender used to pour the waitresses shots all night long. I put away quite a few before it became difficult to count money well (then I would quit).

Twenty three years later my limit is 2 drinks, unless I'm REALLY celebrating--I'll be swinging from chandeliers after 3.

I think the virtue of moderation is something not well understood until you're older.

Posted by: Suz on August 9, 2005 05:14 PM


Thousands of historical experts pored over events of the last few thousand years.

They came to the conclusion that men who are appeasers invariably end up getting fucked in the ass by those they sought to appease.

Posted by: rightisright on August 9, 2005 05:46 PM

"They came to the conclusion that men who are appeasers invariably end up getting fucked in the ass by those they sought to appease."

You seem to appease Acidbrain everynight on here. Does that mean he is fucking you up the ass? And most you even feel it?


Posted by: PJ on August 10, 2005 04:04 AM

I occasionally worked the bar in a place in Galveston. There were two guns at the register. Only the bartender knew which one had a round chambered. Offgoing bartender told you wich was which.

The place down the street had a gun in a box every six feet or so under the bar. Prison and big fines for a customer who got caught with a gun in a bar but I guess the bartender was immune to that.

The only time a gun was fired in that place was in the middle of a Christmas party when one of my idiot shipmates shot himself in the leg while playing with the 22 in his pocket.

Posted by: StinKerr on August 10, 2005 06:42 AM
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