A Horrible Boss
Big Daddy Q AKA Big Daddy Douche
Below is an excerpt from my book — a mostly true story about my days as a strip club bartender in Austin, Texas where I mostly broke shit, drank a ton of booze, sometimes poured drinks, and always hit on my favorite manager.
I woke up in a panic and quickly realized my car was not going to start today.
Luckily Thomas lived right down the street and agreed to come to pick me up for work.
I also secretly hoped this helped him realize how easy it would be for us to be lovers. Austin is a big city and we lived right around the corner from each other. Not to mention, we both lived south and the club was north.
I know, I know, it’s clearly a sign we’re meant to procreate. He would have to stop denying the facts sooner or later.
“Oh, uhhh. Just so you know, I’m training a new manager today. Play nice.” Thomas informed me as I climbed into his car and plopped down in the passenger seat.
I wondered what was wrong with this new manager that Thomas felt the need to instantly warn me.
This must mean he was a real big idiot.
“What? Why? Is he a dumbass, or something? Who is he? Where did he come from? Who is he replacing? When did he get hired? Is he going to be working with us tomorrow, too? Does this mean I have to behave today? Oh no, please let me smoke weed still. I’ll hide outback, I promise. OH MY GOD, is he gonna take over weekends now? I will quit if I can’t work with you. You know I will, Thomas.”
Thomas mumbled something about twenty questions and asked to know why I’m so hyper this early. He didn’t give me much information but assured me that nobody would be taking his shifts. I suppose I would just have to wait and see what this new guy was like. We cruised to work in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey.
Thomas introduced me to the noob manager who was named Big Daddy Q — allegedly.
“I don’t like him,” I told Thomas as soon as Big Daddy Q was out of earshot. He had relocated to chat with the front door girl who was miraculously on time.
“How do you know that? You just met him, hon. Give him a chance.” He looked at the mirrored walls and adjusted his tie.
“Because he looks like he’s not allowed within five hundred feet of a school,” I explained and Thomas shook his head before being pulled away by a curvy dancer with her titties out.
I finished setting up the bar and then took a seat to watch TV while Thomas showed Big Daddy Q around the place a bit.
I was left relatively unsupervised for a few hours and then people started trickling in and I had to show Big Daddy Q some things in the computer. I showed him how you print out tabs and extra credit card receipts if you need to and explained to him how I label bar tabs, etc.
He clicked on the spilled drinks tab, discovered a Red Bull, and questioned how you spill a Red Bull.
“Oh, that’s mine.” I shrugged and greeted Murphy as he strolled into the club.
“Hey, Oscar!” I perked up and began to pour his signature water with no ice when Big Daddy Q cleared his throat.
“Ahem!” I glanced back at him. “Excuse me, I was talking to you,” he snapped.
“Yeah, I know. Hold up a second, though. Let me get Murphy his drink.” I passed Murphy his water “Q, meet Murphy. Murphy, meet Q.”
“Big Daddy Q.” He was quick to correct me.
Murphy offered him a handshake while Big Daddy Q remained focused on me.
“Hold up? Did you just tell me to hold up?” he boomed violently. “I don’t think so. Forest, right? Yeah, can you come to the back for a second so we can have a little chat?”
I nodded my head towards Murphy again and picked up a glass to start making his cocktail.
“Now,” he pressed through gritted teeth.
I scanned the club for Thomas as I finished making Murphy’s drink and passed it to him.
Big Daddy Q held out his hand, signaling that he would follow me to the back.
“Don’t you know that’s stealing from the company?” He began to lay into me as soon as the door shut. “Putting your own personal drinks on the spill tab? Do you not understand what the definition of a spilled drink is? Do you think I’m stupid? I ask for one thing on my shifts. Honesty! If you’re not being shady, then I have no problem with you. I’m a cool guy but what I’m not going to tolerate is you being a thief! As a matter of fact, how about I call up the owners right now and tell them their bartender is stealing from the company?!” He spat. “And then, to walk away from a manager when I’m talking to you and ignore me when I say stop making the drinks …”
Thomas popped his head out from the office and asked what in the world was going on as I glared at Big Daddy Douche in amazement. He was startled to discover Thomas had overheard everything and began to stutter.
“Well, I just … Well, she … she, she’s stealing and … she needs to be written up for it!” he fumbled. “I don’t tolerate dishonesty.”
The door girl popped her head in and told me there was a group of guys that had walked up to the bar a couple of seconds ago.
“You can’t pull her away from the bar. Especially when there are customers,” Thomas replied to Big Daddy Q as I headed back towards the bar.
“Yeah. You’re going to piss off all the regulars.” I chimed in.
“I don’t care who I piss off! I care about -” the door shut behind me and I was spared from enduring the rest of his overly dramatic temper tantrum. I couldn’t remember a time where I had been so happy to get back behind the bar while I was working.
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