Happy Hour

Thursday, October 6th a few friends and I went out for a drink. Happy Hour. Well, let me tell you it was not a Happy Hour. The company was Happy doing, but the stupid wench bitch bartender needed to get her asshole adjusted.

I was told by a few friends, in general, that I have rage. That I need help, either meds or well just get help. So I’ve been trying to control myself lately.

We got into the bar and we asked for the Mango Mojito in a pitcher special for $20. The wench said there was no such thing. We let her know that it was on their fucking site. She said that she would kill someone if that was true. Like she owned the fucking place. BITCH PLEASE!! So then our next question was,
“So what Happy Hour special do you have then?”

Wench replied, “Nothing, we don’t have anything.”

OOOOOOOOOOOO, just the thought of it now makes me want to bash her fucking head into the bar and watch the blood splatter all over the place from breaking her precious fucking nose, as her teeth are knocked out.

Ok, so she walks away. I ask her if they serve food and she said they did. I asked her for a menu and the stupid braud fucking gives me a drink menu. I mean COME ON!! She deserves a fucking beating. She hands it to me and walks away, so that way she doesn’t give me enough time to tell her off and that she has no fucking brains.

She comes back and I ask her for the FOOD MENU. She gives it to me with that fake smile. She was annoyed that she actually had to work. FUCK YOU BITCH! That’s what I really wanted to say. As I was looking at the menu, one of my friends found a pitcher of Sangria for $23 on the drink menu. She confronted the WENCH and she said,

“I thought you said there weren’t any specials. I had asked you if there were any special and you said there was nothing, you have a pitcher of Sangria for $23 on this menu.”

Wench said obnoxiously, “ No, you never asked me that. I wouldn’t have told you there was nothing.”

Blood started boiling in my friend’s vein’s as mine was. I, trying to better myself was trying not to yank her from the other side of the bar and wail on her. So I kept my cool.

My friend’s eyes were getting ready to pop out as she turned to me,

“Didn’t I ask her if there were any specials?”

I tried not looking at the wench and said in a calm voice,

“Yeah, you did.”

Wench was annoyed and took our order of a pitcher of Sangria. The bitch filled the entire pitcher of ice not giving us much Sangria. When she took it out of a fridge she spilled a good part of it on the floor. GOOD BITCH get your shit clothes stained.

So wench asked me how many glasses.

“One, two or three?”

I told her “Four” Obviously I wanted four, there were the four of us there.

She says “One?”

I tried not to kill her with my look, and said “FOUR”

She came back and gave me one.

What a fucking idiot.

We ordered some appetizers. Got one and she forgot to put the other order in. DITZ!

“Excuse me, we need 3 more glasses.”

“You said one.”

“No, I did not ask for one, you said one, I had asked for four.”

My other friend vouched for me. Wench was convinced that she was right again, just the way she thought she was when my friend asked for the specials. What a fucking dumb ass wench.

So, she was annoyed and was like,

“Is that it?”
Uhh what it took me not to go into one of my rages. My third friend kept telling me that wench was starring at me. I thought oh great now she’s gay and wants me. I come to find out later that it wasn’t a pleasant look she was giving me. She was lucky I didn’t see it. I would have not held back then. Another bartender takes over the wench’s shift and the first thing she said to the people next to us as they sat down was the Happy Hour specials. I hope that wench’s house burns down while she’s taking a shit in her bathroom and gets burned. I know, I’m still working on the rage thing.