“When you gotta go, you gotta go.” -Dr. Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Park
Pointless confrontations occur in restaurants over petty issues all the time.
When I’ve bartended and someone came into the bar asking to use the washroom I always said yes and never cared. There are so many other things to worry about than caring if someone takes a piss without buying anything. I understand bar owners being frustrated about this or the prospect of people doing drugs or dealing drugs in the washrooms, but those were above my pay grade.
***
Anyway, I was working at my second favourite bar job and this… larger man, probably in his late 20s, walked in and rushed to the washroom without saying a word. Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t be a guest and hoped the owner didn’t see him come in and leave. Either way, I had enough things to do like making drinks, placing orders, approaching tables, and countless other tasks bartenders need to do.
As the large man walked out of the restroom towards the exit the owner and KM came out of the door behind me. Unknown to me, he had seen the large man coming in and also knew he was there to pee and run. I really liked the owner, a master chef named Jack. He was among the most friendly, professional, and fair leaders I’ve worked for. He remains one of two, among dozens, of owners I’d work for again. But in that moment I knew Jack was about to start a petty conflict that wouldn’t end well.
He had called out other non-customersfor doing this before and as he stood next to me history repeated itself. Again, I had enough things to do already and prepared myself for another inconvenience. Jack did the stern owner stare and asked the large man if he would buy anything. A short argument followed with the large man insulting us, Jack saying fuck you, and the guy leaving the bar. Did I mention there were a dozen customers to witness this PR disaster? The avoidable exchange annoyed me but I was relieved, assuming it was over.
It wasn’t!
A few seconds later we heard the front door fly open. I can still picture the look of frustration and rolling eyes from Jack as we both realized what was coming. The larger man came in and slowly, unceremoniously, moved towards the bathroom. He went in, stayed a few seconds to make a silly point, came out, and said “look I’m doing it again!” Obviously, the staff could do nothing to stop this and the customers must have thought “what the fuck” as the farce continued. I’m not sure if Jack said “fuck you” a second time as the large man left, no doubt proud of his ability to defy our authority with impunity. My assumption is no but you always want past stories to seem more interesting than they really were.
After the larger man left I turned to the owner and said, with a tinge of annoyance, “damn it Jack, that guy made us look like assholes.”
***
Jack must have shrugged and went back into the kitchen. Meanwhile, I began damage control, talking to customers to express regrets and apologies for the unfortunate incident. I did this for several reasons. As someone whose job and livelihood had been repeatedly undermined by customer complaints and online reviews, I wanted to safeguard my selfish interests. On another level, I was looking out for my place’s reputation and thought it was the professional thing to do. Deep down I mostly did it because the whole thing was absurd and this was one of the few times I really liked my job and customers.
It wasn’t necessary. The customers were easygoing, grounded, mostly-working class, and part of a good community. They weren’t the kind of haughty people who complain about anything to get a discount, or Karens who whine about pointless things to feel special. Having started my career in corporate chains where such creatures exist, I was used to appeasing customers to safeguard my job.
But I forgot this wasn’t a corporate abomination and the clientele were great. Some customers laughed, others were grateful but confused why I bothered, and one of my regulars at the bar gave me a good ribbing for it.
As for the larger man he never returned. Perhaps he found another venue to piss off.