What I Do
Being "on top of your game" in the downtown bar business, as I am, is akin to being the smartest kid in the retarded class. It doesn't really matter how many gold stars you get, or how much praise the teacher heaps upon you, at the end of the day you're still in the retarded class, like it or not.
My customers remind me of that fact from time to time when a decision is made that doesn't benefit them. I don't matter, they'll say. I could make more money working at McDonalds, they'll scream, infuriated that I had denied them of something as valuable as an experience at a downtown bar in Athens, Georgia, arguably one of the least important nightlife scenes anywhere.
This is Athens, not Atlanta, they'll inform me. Dress codes and rules shouldn't apply here, they argue. Why, I ask? I couldn't tell you why Athens, according to some people, is outside the reality that every other bar and nightclub in the rest of the country is within. This, to them, is apparently a good reason why they should be permitted to dress like a moron, puke everywhere, fight each other, and generally do whatever the fuck they want, whenever the fuck they want to.
This is where my meaningless, thankless, low paying job comes in handy for me. For while I collect a meager paycheck and endure insults from people who are right on the money when they inform me of being a do-nothing bottom feeder, if I don't want someone coming in or I want them kicked out, I'm not going to do anything until I make sure that's accomplished.
For many people, this ruins their night, interestingly enough because of a supposed meaningless person doing a meaningless job. For me, a piece of shit doorguy to them, simply to know that makes mine.