Check Please!

Yesterday, approximately twenty minutes after I got to the bar, a couple comes in. They tell me, "There'll be a lot of us." At about the same time a group of five walks in, sits down at one table, stares at each other with that look on their faces like nobody wants to make a decision, then they get up and move, making sure to tell me "Hey, we're sitting here now," as if I wouldn't have noticed.

Then, in the next ten minutes the bar goes from having just a few people in it to having closer to thirty. All of these people are impatient, all are at tables. It's Wednesday, so I'm the only server on the floor. These people are split up into three groups, one of which has the bulk of the people, including In-Charge-Man.

In-Charge-Man informs me to put everything on his tab (ok, no problem) and that I should bring three pints of Smithwicks. At this point, I realize that he wants my job. The only problem is, he's not as good at it as I am. A couple more people wander in to join the group.
While I am standing right there at the table, ready to take the newcomers' orders, ICM says to them, "What do you want?"
They say to him, "I want a Bloody Mary" and "I want a rum and Coke."
ICM says to me, "She'll have a Bloody Mary and he'll have a rum and Coke."
I say to them, "What kind of vodka do you want in that Bloody Mary? What kind of rum do you want in that rum and Coke?"
-You get the idea. Just imagine this scene repeated for two hours. To make matters worse, a few of the times he took it upon himself to walk over to me and give orders for his friends, he forgot one or two of them. Maybe I should've offered him my pad so he could write everything down.

Meanwhile, the ICM's doppleganger, ICL is sitting at a nearby table with a couple of her gal pals. I walk over to check on ICM's big group and, while I'm asking those folks how they're doing, ICL is saying "Excuse me." One of the ladies is ready for another beer, fine. Then ICL decides she is too, and does her other friend want another? Good grief. If you're so eager for me to come over that you have to interrupt while I'm talking with other patrons, at least have your order straight by the time I get to you.

Then there's the mortician's convention (or, so Dave hypothesized given their dark colored business attire) with Oblivious-Guys 1-3 doing the, "Oh, you brought him a drink? Go back and get me one too" game.

Right. Now that I've painted this picture for you, here's the clincher:
ICL and her gal pals are ready to leave. A guy has since joined them, and he's handed me a credit card to pay the bill. They've got dinner reservations, so they're putting on their coats and ready to head out. I take the card over to the computer, swipe it, and get an error message. I re-swipe. Same message.

Luckily, Bob and Marianne have recently wandered in so I head for Bob, "Hey, I've got a problem." Bob tries to fix it. No luck. ICM is ready to close out. He hands me a credit card. After hanging out with his pals for two hours, ICM is eager to leave. Great.

So, here I am, in the midst of thirty people all wanting to leave right now. The credit cards aren't working because our internet service has glitched and won't be working again until, presumably, the next day. I confer with Bob and Marianne, then head over to the two guys who are impatient to pay their bills and get the heck out of Dodge. I went up to them fully expecting a hissy fit from one or both and ready to yank an owner over to sort it out, but in the end, both were delightfully reasonable about it and traded their credit cards for either cash or a personal check. Thank George. The mortician's convention also opted for a personal check, and also forewent the hissy fit.

By the end of the night I had four checks (we never take checks) which will hopefully all clear, and a handful of oh-so-original people who, when told about the lack of credit card service, remarked "I guess it's free then, ha ha."

Some nights are worth it less than others. Last night, despite the fact that I did pretty well in tips, just wasn't quite worth it. I gotta say, the Mystery Adventure Vacation (and the resulting week off) can't get here fast enough.