BiteClub

As I get older, and deeper into the downward spiral of alcohol-induced mediocrity, I find random quotes rattling around in my head like loose change in a laundry dryer.

            Sometimes I have absolutely no clue where they came from.  They’re like the voice of God, or Alzheimer’s, or some other terrible thing. Christ, it’s especially unnerving when I’m trying to quote somebody or make a point. In college, I was taught never to advance a quote or concept if it was untethered to its original author. To do so is plagiarism, the Cardinal sin, automatic F, et cetera. Well thank fuck this isn’t college, because I’ve got something I want to say and I can’t be bothered with academic protocol.

Anyway, I can’t exactly remember what movie it was, but I remember seeing a scene where one guy is berating another guy for wearing a band’s T-shirt to their concert. He’s giving him holy hell with the basic premise that wearing the shirt is redundant and ridiculous. Yeah, you like the band. That comes across really by the fact that you’re at their show. You don’t need to wear the shirt and hold up the poster too.  A little subtlety goes a long way.

In the service industry, another word for subtly is civility. As in, manners and human decency.

But you’d be surprised how little trouble people have being “that guy.” That idiot that is so narcissistically obsessed with his own agenda that everybody else around them has to bend to his will.  The facelift and Rolex isn’t enough. The tailored shirt isn’t either. You can really show and prove, and shine like a star, if you treat people like they’re peasants.    

A lot of bartenders feel like this every day when dealing with social retards that can’t seem to grasp the fact that we know and understand that people come to bars to order drinks, and drink them. Example: if a bartender scans the bar, makes eye contact with a patron, and walks over to serve said patron, that asshole should not continue flailing his arms like he’s trying to get rescued by a Coast Guard helicopter. "Yeah, I see you over here doing jumping jacks. That’s why I walked over to you and said, 'What can I getcha?' Now put your fucking arms down!"

Don’t be that guy. That guy who stands out for all the wrong reasons. That guy Adam Sandler plays after he inherits a thousand billion dollars, but before he goes back to wearing hockey jerseys and peeing in alleys.  Obvious guy. Narcissist guy who likes to humiliate the people who take care of him. Unfortunately though, this is what people strive for. They want to be rich enough to act rich. Because being rich means you get to be a bossy blowhard a-hole.

As a bartender myself, and a guy who serves the public for a living, I have to cope with getting shit on by all kinds of unscrupulous patrons, however frequently they choose to do it. And shit comes in all shapes, stinks, and sizes, from the odiferous tightwad skidmark to the bowl-busting, meatloaf-sized turd bent on “breaking me” like Ivan Drago.  Fecal spray is a hazard of the trade, and I can’t complain, because nobody ever said it would be glamorous. And really, I could be working at fucking Kinko’s. Still, I sometimes wonder if the dark truth about serving is that people pay us so they can actively degenerate into lazy, needy, infantile, pant-soiling mongoloids. If that’s true, we servers are professional equivalents of sewage workers and garbage men, only instead of making people’s shit magically disappear, we quietly conjure it up. But unlike garbage men, we’re supposed to make people feel like we actually enjoy what we are doing. You know, like a hooker that fakes orgasms. So, while the trashman is banging lids and chomping cigars, we are soft-shoeing and thanking people for stooping to give us their dinner orders.

O.K., I can deal with it. Working life can be hostile. Especially to those of us with no trust fund or powerful connections (I think we’re called the Working Class). Some say this is a cynical way of looking at it, and I don’t disagree. That being said, I honestly hope and believe that the world could be a better place if more people would just fucking act civilized.

Seriously, rude behavior and bad manners are rampant in everyday life, from the Escalade that rolls in front of the handicapped lady in a crosswalk to the maniac with a cell phone in a movie theater. And really, all this shitty behavior just spreads from person to person like the goddamn dirty avian flu. I know I sound like Ann Landers, but I mean it.

A few weeks ago, watching the final Obama/McCain debate, I was struck dumb by how openly rude and contemptuous John McCain was of Senator Obama.  Political content aside, McCain’s performance was so nasty, it was almost comical. Every time Obama said something contentious, McCain rolled his eyes and shook his head like a stage actor trying to come across to the people in the back rows. The only thing he didn’t do was cackle and rub his hands together like a Vaudevillian Stage Coach Robber.  I wanted to hiss and boo him, like in the old days of theater. The idea that he, while publicly and “civilly” debating his esteemed competitor, could harrumph and laugh derisively like a poor-sport cheerleader, was insane to me. The balls on that guy! If it was one of my kids, I’d give him a swat on his little ass and put Tabasco on his tongue.

But everybody I talked to about it told me I was being naïve and sensitive. “The nature of politics” and all that, they said.  Well, fuck that. Instead of calling a motherfucker out, it seems like people would rather create a euphemism for someone’s assholeicity. If somebody’s rude, just make an excuse for it. In sports, or business, it’s “being competitive.” When kids are little dickheads on the playground, they’re “strong willed.” I’ve even heard people forgive loudmouth raging assholes in restaurants as someone who “knows what he wants.” Give me a break. Let’s call a spade a spade. And a douche a douche.

I’m no anthropologist, but I’d venture to guess that this rude social standard can be traced to our utterly ridiculous obsession with rich and famous shitbirds.  Cradled babies like Nichole Ritchie and LA Ink’s Kat, who think that we admire their impetuous temperaments. The whole rich bitch thing is en vogue. Years ago, I remember seeing Mark McGrath ape Ryan Leaf’s famous locker room meltdown out in front of a Hollywood club. It turned my stomach to watch this rich, tall, handsome cunt seethe and froth in front of a TMZ camera crew because valet was making him wait. I distinctly remember praying to the little baby Jesus that Sugar Ray would be blacklisted from show biz and forced to study HVAC at ResedaCommunity College for the next six years.  But Jesus wasn’t listening. Instead, some smarmy studio tool put him on Entertainment Tonight, thus forever erasing John Tesh’s nice guy legacy.

            When I see dudes mimic rappers, my theory become crystal clear.  Nine times outta ten, the guy hollering and slapping the bartop when it’s busy is the guy who rolled into the club poppin’ his collar and neglecting to remove his sunglasses.  Said asshole first witnessed this unctuous routine as he watched Ludacris’ “Stand Up” on fucking TRL.  The thing this guy doesn’t know is that even Ludacris wouldn’t act that, well, ludicrous.     

            I’m lucky enough to work at a place where I don’t have to quietly tolerate this type fuckery. I get to say, “Hey, this isn’t that kind of joint.” Most people get the idea. But for years I didn’t know I could say stuff like that, or at least, it felt like years. I just bit my lip and tried to work faster, hoping my speed would outrace another tantrum. Unfortunately, this is what most people do when they encounter rude assholes. They clam up, and feel genuine embarrassment. This sucks especially hard, because these embarrassed people are often the ones who are acting like goddamn humble examples of human civility. 

            In my heart of hearts, I wish people would stand up to these big-money bullies. I had a friend that used to boo previews for stupid looking movies. His defense was that somebody should publicly deride the crap that most of us silently tolerate. I was hideously embarrassed the first time I witnessed it. But after some time, I began to really enjoy his brand of free speech. Finally, I craved it, and began to boo with him. Now, when I see some dick holding up traffic because he’s arguing with his girlfriend, I boo him. I simply roll down my window, drive by, and booooo into his face. When some housewife decides to rearrange the entire contents of her wallet, before she pays her tab, at the front of a long line at Peet’s, I fuckin’ boo her too.  Why should I tolerate this horseshit? Some of us get it: a standard of civility is the only way people from different cultures and backgrounds can harmoniously interact. We restrain ourselves, behave like adults, and do our best to help things run smoothly. But there’s always some prima donna cocksucker doing his best to muck up the works. We shouldn’t tolerate it. I say we boo them. Next time some entitled sorority girl cuts you off at the bar, knowing you won’t say anything because she’s so fucking important, hold up your hand, turn right at her, and booooo into her stupid, pretty little face. Maybe we can boo her together. We have to start standing up to these pricks.