Not necessarily from hell.

Not exactly from earth, either.

I was occasionally loaned to a sister pub during my stint as a bar steward. They were short of staff, I needed additional cash with which to buy hash and so it seemed a heaven made match.

A couple of nights a week I would clamber into a cab at my usual boozer and be escorted deep into the the Hertfordshire country side to pull pints for the generally pleasant yokels that frequented The Bull.

On one otherwise typically forgettable evening a regular approached, as he had numerous times before, and I happily held a glass beneath the nozzle of his chosen pint when our oft repeated exchange was broken:

"I don't like you." he stated.

Bearing in mind I approached bar work with a smile and a willingness to engage in whatever meaningless conversation the punters felt was important, this came as something of a surprise.

"Okaaaay." I replied. "Um, would you still like your pint?" I really didn't know what else to say.

"Look." he demanded "I really don't like you."

Unsure what I'd done wrong, but not really giving a chimp's chuff, I responded in kind: "Honestly, I don't know what I've done to upset you. Would you still like your pint?"

"You think you're so good, don't you?"

I really didn't.

"No, I really don't." I confirmed.

"Don't fucking give me that. I've been watching you, you think you're the dog's bollocks."

All too sudden he had the spittle coated lips of the babblingly insane, and his eyes held the look of a man with bodies beneath his patio. I wanted shot of him and poured his pint without response, hoping he'd leave me alone.

"Got nothing to say for yourself, hey?" he challenged. "Not so fucking clever after all are you, student boy?"

"..." I managed to say, as if in confirmation of his previous point, before another local sidled up beside him and requested he "leave it" before paying for his pint and leading him back to his table with a comforting arm.

For the rest of my shift he glared at me over the top of his pint glass before flouncing out into the cold night at closing time.

A couple of days later I returned for another shift. First customer? The formerly wild eyed one strolled directly up to me and, nice as a kitten, asked for a pint of Best, and whatever I was having, if I'd be so kind.

I don't think I've ever poured a better pint in my life.
( Moey, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 14:48, 2 replies)

Bloody students
You always think you're better than the average joe don't you?
(muzzvsworld, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 1:05, closed)

It was you

wasn't it.
( Moey, Wed 10 Sep 2008, 11:37, closed)