“It’s like I always say, you get more with a kind word and a two-by-four than with just a kind word.” -Marcus Cole, Babylon 5

Young men can be such drunken assholes! I don’t mean to pick on any group, bartenders deal with violent pricks from all age brackets. The difference is 19-25 year olds have the passion and strength to smash holes in your bathroom walls. 

My roommate Bryon ran a bar before 2007 when I met him. I can’t remember the name and location but it wasn’t exactly a classy establishment. When you entered the men’s washroom there were often holes in the wall and posters ripped up and shoved in the urinals. Needless to say, the clientele were occasionally edgy. 

Most were among those legions of young, angry, directionless men. The kind that hate their fathers, are bitter at women, and get blackout drunk. The only other demographic that attack bathroom drywall so much are VLT players, who lose multiple pay-checks per sitting. Fortunately, they tend to be older and the damage is smaller.

The bars that attract these destroyers of plaster have some things in common: They sell a lot of beer and high balls, via cheap prices and specials. They also promote sports in general and UFC in particular. They’re also rougher establishments, the kind classy and timid people avoid. In such an atmosphere, with cheap prices, high testosterone, and a rough crowd, finding posters stuffed in urinals isn’t exactly exactly uncommon.

***

Anyway, my roommate told me of a spot in the men’s washroom that kept getting punched out the same time every two weeks. It was hard to know who was doing it as it was always busy. Given they had countless regulars and many were loud and obnoxious, it was hard to pinpoint the culprit.

After plastering over the gaping hole for the umpteenth time, Bryon hatched a sinister plan. While I would’ve adopted a more subtle approach to flush out the offender, he decided upon a more PHYSICAL response. One day he told the unfortunate janitor, who kept patching up the same hole, to make “special” modifications to his repair.

Before covering over the wall he installed pieces of strong wood, decorated with a healthy dose of steel bolts. I’ve always wondered if the janitor knew he was creating a lethal trap, or felt guilty doing so. More likely, he looked forward to the prospect of the little bastard who kept smashing the wall getting his comeuppance.

As D-Day approached, when the masked puncher would strike again, Bryon waited patiently for his trap to spring. But what if the young man changed his ways? What if he was sick and stayed home? What if he got a DUI, moved away, or just decided he was tired of the place. As a history student I love what ifs but what happens is what matters.

Because while human beings have agency and the young man could’ve changed, he did the predictable, obvious thing my roommate anticipated. Because most assholes at bars remain jerks until they are called out harshly, or physically beaten down.

Thus, at the expected moment a scream of intense pain came from the men’s washroom. The fool had punched one wall too many and paid the price in blood. He came out quickly, with a pale white face and shock in his eyes. Most notably, he cradled a bloody, broken hand in his other arm. The mysterious conquerer of plaster walls had been unmasked.

Bryon could have called the police and charged him. He could also have berated him and kicked him out. Instead, convinced the little shit had his tough guy attitude beaten out of him, he gave him an out. The little fucker asked my roommate, with some urgency, for the bill.

To teach the punk a harsh life lesson, Bryon, who pretended not to notice the kid’s mangled, bloody hand, continued the exchange as long as possible: He acted like he couldn’t find the bill, asked how many drinks he had, what girl was serving him, etc? Needless to say the little prick, who had the courage to punch out defenceless walls, wasn’t as tough with my roommate. 

Eventually, Bryon produced the bill, the small man paid, and knowing my roommate he probably said “thanks for coming in,” with the most shit-eating grin possible. The little ass-pimple finally left and never came back (based on the fact the spot on the bathroom wall was never assaulted again). 

***

You may think Bryon was cruel for doing this and I’m cold for condoning it. If so, you’ve never bartended and you’re more forgiving than we were. You’ve never seen so many rotten people bully the weak, take advantage of the patience and goodwill of restaurant staff, or how often a few bad apples ruin everyone’s night. That’s just the lighter parts. The harassment, stalking, verbal abuse, violence against decent customers, and sexual assault against waitresses, are the dark ones. 

Such actions, especially the worst ones, are committed by less than 0.3% of customers. After 17 years of the bar industry I never feel bad for bullies who are taken outside by bouncers and have the everlasting fear and humility beaten into their dark souls. Given what they do to decent bar staff and innocent customers, they get off lucky.

People complain about micro-aggressions, like someone forgetting their pronouns (intentionally or not). You know what you call someone throwing a beer bottle at your head? An obviously intentional macro-aggression! I remember one of my best customers, Larry. He was among the most considerate, soft-spoken, and nicest people I’ve ever served. But he had enough common sense to tell me once that “some people,” he meant assholes, “deserve to get their asses kicked.” It’s why we got along so well. Because I knew he would never be mean or take advantage of me, but also understood when I kicked bullies out of the bar.

Anyway, I sometimes think of the young man who felt entitled to keep smashing the bathroom wall without consequences. I don’t know what his issues were and I don’t care! I’ve had my problems, been suicidal, and suffered countless tragedies. All I know is as he drove to the hospital he realized assholes eventually get called out or beaten up.

The best part was instead of being taken down by bouncers he mangled his own hand himself. I hope he learned some decency and humility, and became a better person. More likely he just learned to fear the consequences of being a jerk for no reason. 

That’s good enough for me. Most people can be compelled by morality or reasoned with by logic. Others at least fear the law. For the rest, a healthy dose of violence is all they understand. Call me a caveman but history and bartending taught me the truth about human nature… especially when people are drunk.