Today’s Word is… STORYTIME

Now usually I start off with a little rant/anecdote, tell a story, make a few points, wrap it up in a neat little bow. Here, I got nothing.  This just some sh t that happened over the weekend I thought was worth sharing. Whatever.

So last Friday night, yeah we danced on tabletops, yeah we took too many shots, I think we kissed but I forgot….okay none of that happened, what did happened was I met up with some friends, romans and countrymen at this lounge. We happened to go on the same day there was a meet and greet for colored girls who considered changing because 16 black cocktail dresses wasn’t enuf. Then there was the white guys who like jazz and poetry so they wear fedoras inside with stubble beards, the couples who thought they was about to have a quiet night out but was solely mistaken, the old cat daddies in they finest suits that were likely older than me, the usual blerds who just want to foursquare somewhere that isn’t in a 3 mile radius and us. Point is, we probably broke about 3-4 fire codes.

Anyway tho, there was a manager dude (more on him later), who was clearly annoyed by the excessive amounts bougie melanin in the lounge restored some order to the proceedings, 8 ninjas to a table.  We were a party of six so we sat with some girl I was chatting up whose name I can’t remember, and this other guy who was chatting up “coworker”.  Ol boy was swinging for the fences and missing horribly, between him and the fake deep spoken word poetry, the struggle to contain laughter was too real.  So anyway, we’re eating and drinking….yada yada yada the bill comes, including an entertainment charge for some lady who followed the poets and did a bunch of Neo soul covers and a 18% gratuity for parties of 8+ and we couldn’t get separate checks (I saw what he did there). Being a table full of accountants we divided it up and it came out to about $60 a person (plus friendly stranger was like i got this sour amaretto on your tab and u.o.e.n.o.). So everyone is ready to pay and ol boy has like 25 dollars to his name.  He tried to unclaim 2 shots he clearly took but still even his tip and entertainment charge he was still screwed.  So now the original plan was everyone give me cash I throw it on my card but we we’re now about $35 short and I was not about to feed this man.  We call the waiter back, insist on separate checks.  He cannot, he goes and gets manager guy.

Now for a manager of a lounge filled to capacity, he was way too angry.  Now for a guy with a stomach filled with alcohol, I was maybe to impatient.  Whatever.   A colleague offered to pay but I wouldn’t have it.  It was the principality, I demanded separate checks. (Again I had about 3 drinks and 2 shots). He had a very condescending tone as if we we’re just some deadbeats and probably didn’t make more than him.  He was the manager not the owner, I would take me on the over #fakeballer. I explained that one person outside of our group couldn’t afford his bill, we wasn’t paying, not my job to give a damn. Meanwhile, ol boy was sitting there looking at the check like it was written in heiroglyphs. Like 20 minutes later.  He was all squinting at it waiting for it to change. Hilarious.  So the manager turns around and unnecessarily announces that he will cover the difference and storms off.  Ol boy quickly exited stage left, his pride still left on that check.

So the morals of the story here:
1. Don’t go to jazz lounges, especially on poetry night.
2. Don’t say your tab name at the bar so others can hear you
3. if you only got $25, get you a bottle, call a ladyfriend over and watch Netflix
4. Don’t give lightskinned dudes in tight blazers any power
5. Don’t give me Patron anything

The end.

-Stan-

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Filed under Randomness, Simply Stan, STORYTIME

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