Monday was a surprise open to close double that got an extra sprinkle of fucking crazy right off the rip. To set the scene, I’m not a bartender. I lie to employers and say I can’t work a bar as I don’t like alcoholics and tend to have a messed up face when stuck behind a bar too long. Needless to say, day shifts at my work there’s no bartender- que my dumb ass being back there.

Two women came in and immediately pre-apologized for their behavior. One of them is a new widow and apparently the bar is where we are grieving. Can’t judge the lady, if I had the stomach I’d absolutely be an alcoholic for sure. Unfortunately my GI system is a wuss and self destructs after 3 drinks so I just avoid it for the most part. These two even with the apology did not make up for the disaster that followed.

They get the seafood casseroles, which are a mix of three different fish in a casserole dish. The dish is only so big people, these come with 2 additional sides and dinner plates are only so large. Fish is expensive, inflation hit the ocean- this isn’t a fucking filet of fish, it’s a dish my poor abused cook slaved over. Well the widow immediately goes into how she doesn’t like shrimp, claims an allergy but specifically states she’s not allergic just hates them. Use the words you mean. An allergy in any proper restaurant involves protocols and the kitchen making sure to not accidentally kill you. It’s not because you’re a picky twat.

Naturally she wants to play Burger King and have it her way substituting extra scallops for the shrimp. Price difference aside, these dishes aren’t huge. The kitchen did as she asked, without up charging gave her an extra scallop in the dish. You’d think I murdered that lady’s husband the way she spazzed about the lack of scallops, like they are decent size fish in a container that’s overflowing. Lady finished the plate while complaining the entire time. Even my crazy regulars were apologizing to me for their behavior, which is bad when the resident looneys are even feeling that wrath.

Thankfully the complainer didn’t pay- I got them out the door and I thought that was the last of it. Boy was I wrong.

7pm the phone rings and it’s a lady looking for a manager. I get the owners wife and start doing damage control explaining this is the only issue we had that day and that’s likely what’s going on. The poor owners wife got an earful from this lady, claiming she left still hungry and all types of crazy shit. Threatening to write a review talking about how she has pictures. She refused to forward any of these photos, but was insistent they existed naturally the owners want to plug the crazy jug so when I called her back 20 minutes later offering her a $25 gift card she immediately starts singing a different tune. Mistakes happen, I’m not gonna post a review, I appreciate this- the full tour stop.

This is a grift that older white women know works, so they do it. It’s like a Karen super power these broads have that can just produce a gift card and an apology out of their asses, even when it’s not deserved in any form. My kitchen has had screw ups, that wasn’t one of them.

I wish I could say my work week got better and turned around, but unfortunately the rest of the week was filled with full moon looney tunes and a bunch of screaming. Hell at one point I had a full blown flash back to my childhood when my parents would be screaming so loud you could probably hear it 3 blocks over- that happened in my kitchen Tuesday while I’m trying to blast the music in the dining room and bar area to hide what’s going on from the customers. It didn’t work. Even at full volume you could hear the screaming.

I guess I’m grateful my kids don’t have the childhood exposure to relationship dysfunction I did. I am in no way blaming my parents, they are 100% Irish Catholics who did what they thought was best and what the church and society had told them was best. In 2026 we know now staying together for kids is actually worse than divorce. Luckily my kids really didn’t witness my marriage deteriorating. There wasn’t yelling and it was just a drawn out disconnect that ended with him skipping town out my back door like a punk bitch. The kids have adjusted to life without him and are doing better in school/behavior wise so I guess there’s that sliver lining my therapist was desperately asking me to find this morning as I dumped a heaping load of miserable on her. Poor thing has her first appointment of the day and it’s me (sick as fuck sounding like a squeak toy) sobbing hysterically because I’m 100% aware of the fact my ex is going to murder me at some point and I won’t feel safe until he’s actually deceased. Pretty dark shit but it’s just where I’m at. Once he had said he wouldn’t kill me but he’d kill someone who looked like me- which is honestly worse than the original option in my eyes.

I can’t say life is great, it’s not. It’s shit but I’m showing up and trying still despite the fact it feels like I’m being waterboarded with sheer bull shit non stop. I can’t fake gratitude at this point despite the fact I know the lists work. I’m allowing myself full permission to be a miserable bitch temporarily as I’ve most definitely earned it💁🏻‍♀️