Quittage and beatings
Back in 1998, shortly after turning 18, I realised that I was now at the legal age to work at the local nightclub and could quit my part time job commuting to Meadowhall to prep and sell cookies to Sheffield's finest Chavs (Free cookies is only a decent incentive for so long, I eventually got sick of them and have only just got over the wave of nausea when I see them).

Anywhoo life at the club started good, I was a barman at a nightclub that most of my friends or acquaintances came to (To be fair though, I do live in Barnsley so they hardly had a lot of choice when). I was always asked to add people to the guest list/ undercharge for rounds of drinks etc and I'm sad to say I became a bit of a twat to my real friends at the time.

Aaaanyway, the manager of this establishment was a trumped up little twat by the name of Jim (Name not changed as I don't give a monkeys), he used the club as his own personal shag pad and would happily take a number of Barnsley's finest slappers up into the VIP section every night (It was called the VIP section because it had a rope around it and there was less mould than the rest of the club). He never really liked me, mainly due to the fact that I was hired without his consent and that I would rather spend my wages on things like computer games, vinyl and beer than class A's.

He tried to make me quit by moving me to an isolated bar under the stairs that only sold bottles, I saw it as my own little bar really enjoyed the time I spent there. When he realised I was having fun he moved me again, this time to the bar with the Nazi like supervisor who was also a part of his clique of friends. I was basically placed on all the shite duties and scrutinised on everything I did, being the kind of person I am I still didn't quit, infuriating Jim even more.

One night I was sent to collect glasses from the toilets (a job I will admit I never really did) when I was grabbed from behind by one of the bouncers and thrown through the nearest fire door, where Jim and another two bouncers were waiting. I was made to empty my pockets and they went through my wallet to look for any drugs or stolen money:

Jim: How much money have you got in here?
Me: erm, about £65.00
Jim: There's actually £68.87, you've been thieving haven't you?
Me: What? No, not at all (I' was being flanked by two bouncers so I forgot to ask how anyone having more than £60.00 in their wallett made them a thief)
Jim: You are you little shit I've got people watching you, you know
Me (forgetting the situation I'm in): Really, who's that then? They could have given me a hand when I was in the picking up the glasses filled with piss?
Jim: Don't get smart with me you little prick (starts poking me in the chest at every word he says) I AM THE BOSS HERE AND I SAY YOU ARE A THIEVING LITTLE TWAT
Me: Don't poke me
Jim: Why, what are you going to do about it? I've got three bouncers round here and there's nothing you can do about it (poke, poke)

At this point I swung for the slimy bastard and surprisingly connected, I didn't have time to revel in the fact as I was set upon by the bouncers, with Jim adding a couple of kicks for good measure. What was left of me was then dragged out front of the club, along with my bag and coat (which were thoroughly searched, then dumped into a clear plastic bag).

It took me a long time for me to heal from the kicking, my entire body was bruised to fuck but not a bone was broken (as expected from a kicking form the bouncers). All the staff at the club who knew me were also told that I had been sacked for taking drugs and stealing from the cloakroom ( A Place that was locked from the club opening so how the hell that happened is anyone's guess).

This incident turned out to be a good thing as I had a dawning realisation of what a twat I had been and resorted to changing back into the person I once was. The only people that truly gave a feck about me knew that the info Jim had attempted to pass on to them was bullshit and stood by me the other hangers on that blanked me out weren't worth talking to in the first place.

I never went back to the club until it changed ownership and upon entry I realised that Jim was still there but this time as assistant manager, I spent the night pointing and laughing while saying assistant manager at him every time I saw him, I'm not saying that calling him names was the only form of revenge I took against him, I just wish to keep those stories to myself and use them in a future QOTW.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Tue 27 May 2008, 11:18, 6 replies)

Which club was that?
/Fellow Barnsleyite
( jim_bob can herd cats., Tue 27 May 2008, 12:35, closed)

Well
At the time I was employed it was Regents Park, Its went on to be owned by Heaven and Hell (when I went back and laughed at him).

I don't really go out around Barnsley that often and when I do I usually go to the ones the other side of Barnsley so god knows what its called now (or if its even still open)
(mon bison powered by magnets, Tue 27 May 2008, 12:50, closed)

It's still Heaven and Hell, last I checked
I never go out in Barnsley, I value my kidneys. I stick to my local in Elsecar (The Market, an excellent pub which serves a cracking pint).
( jim_bob can herd cats., Tue 27 May 2008, 13:30, closed)

whatta
cock! No police though?
(tweebianmonkey Should be known as Widget, Tue 27 May 2008, 13:42, closed)

Police?
Not a chance, the whole place was so dodgy (behind the scenes) they wouldn't dare, I just recieved a good kicking with a threat of Jim and his buddies lying in court about my supposed thefts, to deter me from taking the fuckers to court.

It worked.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Tue 27 May 2008, 14:01, closed)

I had a similar thing
I was hired by the landlord of a pub, he went away and left his assistant manager in charge. One night I was working the bar in the club bit with assistant manager's favourite barmaid, off her face on pills. She started dropping glasses so I told her to fuck off and I managed the bar on my own. Next day I was called in for a meeting, where I was told that Jo had told the story with roles reversed. I was fired for taking drugs on a shift, because whore had got in there first. Bitch.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Tue 27 May 2008, 14:15, closed)