Tuesday, October 23, 2007

More Tips From The Door

Despite whatever I've said in the past, the only thing that I really want to do at the door is check your ID and keep you moving inside. I really don't want to stop you and I especially don't want to spend more than 5 seconds looking at your ID.

I want you to go inside because that means money for me and, of much lesser importance to me, a good time for you.

So I don't want to have a conversation with you. Big deal. What I do want to do is usher you inside as quickly as you can stagger forward. And I especially don't want to argue about anything with you, really.

It pains me, every single time, when I reject people. The reason it pains me is because I'm required to stop the forward momentum of the line and explain to a drunken 19 year old why he or she can't come in.

I want you inside, but more than that, I don't want you lying to me. I get lied to on a regular basis at the door. Every other minute I hear excuses, reasons, explainations, and every tall tale under the sun that someone can concoct for why they should be allowed inside when I've told them they can't.

Please know this: I don't believe a damned word that you're telling me.


I'm not an idiot. Don't treat me like one. My first night working here wasn't last night. Believe it or not, I was in your position at one time in the past, so I know your games and I know your tactics.

When I tell you that your ID is fake, or expired, or simply isn't you, don't give me the wide eyed deer-in-the-headlights look and act like you didn't know. I'm not impressed and it won't work.

If you ask me the ever popular, yet completely ineffective, Are you serious?, question when I reject you, or any other argument for that matter, then I'm going to embarrass you by announcing loudly to you and everyone in line that we don't accept fake IDs, and they'll all watch you slither away from the door, head hung in shame.

And trust me, they are laughing at you. I am too, incidentally.

And the lies, the damned lies you all tell. No, there isn't a bartender named Madaline who works here. Even if she did work here, and even if she did give half a shit about you, then she would have let me know that you were coming. But she didn't. Claiming to be with someone who works here doesn't fly. It's an old, tired method for getting in, and I'm pretty sick of hearing it, to be honest.

And even if they do work here, and you get an attitude with me before they come vouche for you, then guess what? You're still not getting in. Because this is my door. Not theirs. Try some respect and common courtesy next time, shithead. If I believed every drunken frat boy that came up to the door swearing they're best friends with the general manager or the owner, then I might as well go home. Why even bother standing up there and checking?

So yea, I rejected your girlfriend. To guy who asked me why I "bounced" his girlfriend from the line last weekend, here's why: She had a fake ID. Simple. Not only was it fake, it was a piece of paper. A piece of paper. Are you kidding me? You could have scooped up a handful of dog shit from the sidewalk to show me and had a better chance of getting in than she did with her homemade scan of someone elses fake ID. So, heroic boyfriend, please explain to me how it's my fault that she had a fake ID.

In addition, my personal policy for fake IDs is this: If you have one and I catch you with it, then I'll reject you. But...I'll give it back to you. This means, at the very least, you won't get in to my bar for the night.

Here's where it gets a tad bit interesting. If you give me shit, then I'll take it from you and put it in my pocket. So now, because of your inability to curtail your urge to voice your displeasure at me, you're now fucked for getting into any bar for the night. This is why it does nothing but help you to take your ID back from me, keep your mouth shut, and quietly walk away.

Giving me shit for rejecting you includes, but isn't limited to, any of the following: Arguing about the authenticity of the ID, cursing at me, calling me names, walking away and getting back in line with a different ID or a quick change of clothes, threatening to sue me, telling me how important you or your parents are, threatening to get the cops, telling me how much money you were going to "drop" in the bar tonight, trying to sneak by me, telling me that "your friends are in there", or that you know an employee or the owner.

Basically anything other than walking away from me silently and not coming back for the night.

And finally, if I reject you, and you give me shit, and you continue to give me shit for rejecting you and confiscating your horrible fake ID, please keep in mind that I have a very important piece of information that the police would be very interested to know about. The odds of you spending the night in jail goes up substantially if I share said information with them.

Just give me a reason to, asshole.

You're underaged, you've probably been drinking, and even more importantly, you have (or had, since I took it) a fake ID. Doesn't matter if you have it now or not, all I have to do is wave over Officer Friendly standing several feet away from me and explain the situation, and you'll be in handcuffs faster than you can say I'm sorry, I just want to go home please, Officer.

As I told the friend of a kid whom I got arrested for violating these very rules I just wrote about last weekend, my best advice to you is this: If you're downtown, drunk, underaged, and on the sidewalk, the best thing you can do is to keep your fucking mouth shut.

And as a sidenote to all of this: If you're in possession of a manufactured ID (which means that you made it) and the cops find it, then you're looking at a felony. A felony.

Is that really worth it?

Happy drinking this weekend!


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