Trouble in t' pub
Bit unfair to call this bad management but essentially part of the job of a (ugh) pub manager is to be able to sort out trouble. The pub i was working in was a good 40 mins from London so it attracted good, friendly travelling antipodeans to work and live upstairs. One of these, a girl whose name i forget (Anne, maybe?) had a boyfriend who we'd never met. Anne was a small, doe-eyed Kiwi and no-one expected her to be dating what looked like Va'iga Tuigamala (off of the All Blacks). And no-one expected him to have a sissy name like Gene. So Gene came to visit the pub and offered to pick up glasses for the evening on Friday as there wasn't much else for him to do. When it came to kicking out time, a sturdy contigent of toughies and 'real' travellers (wink, wink) were causing trouble to Adam. I know this as i was busy tidying up around them and not nearly tough enough to even think about helping. Adam continued to tell them to get out, but they just jeered him and continued to provoke trouble. They could easily do this. At this point, a large dark shadow joined proceedings and the lads turned round and almost suffered a "Donk!" moment as Gene leaned in to their faces and said, ever so politely, "righto ladies, time to finish your wine and fuck off", fully in the knowledge and he could have crushed them in the palm of his hand easily. It was too beautiful for words to see these boys look at each other, look back to Gene (who was grinning from ear to ear), weigh up their increasingly dwindling options, quickly drain their glasses and "fuck off" as Gene had suggested. Pisspoor management but great bouncing. Whatever happened to Gene, i wonder...
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:01, Reply)