"hey come'ere you skinny lil thing"
i made sure i stood at least an arm's length away from him . but yet even at that distance his body odour still overwhelmed me.
"yup ? can i help ?" i tried to maintain a cheerful facade in front of the most obnoxious and unbearable customer at the pub i work at. i could have ignored him , but sadly he is one of our regular customers who spends quite a fortune there.
"what is this ?" he scowled and lifted a flask of coke from his table littered with his cigar butts and crumbs of disintegrated coasters.
"coke." i said pointedly.
"its not coke , its cat's piss ya hear? its totally fucked up !" and as he spoke he revealed rows of missing teeth , not that the stained ones remaining were gonna stay for long. and oh , that sourish stench from his mouth !
"what do you mean?"
"is this coke from the tap?" he grunted
"no wonder its so fucked up ! get me a flask of BOTTLED or CANNED coke ya hear??"
he pushed the flask of brown liquid away towards the edge of the table.
i smiled weakly and took the offending item to my manager , Sam.
"eh Sam , George says this is cat's piss and demands for canned coke."
i cursed under my breath. fucking smelly obese ang moh
"who ? George huh ? okay no problem" and promptly Sam scooted out of the entrance towards 7-11 because we simply don't stock up canned coke. whatever for since we have it on tap ?
i was immediately disgusted by Sam's lack of attitude and for acting like a lackey just because George brings in the revenue for us. but i know i shouldn't because we're in the service line and we should all act like we're thankful to customers and kiss the ground they walk on and erect an invisible shrine for them.
OH HOW I WORSHIP YE , THY HOLY CUSTOMER
the fuck is wrong with coke from the tap anyway ?? maybe i'm not a discerning coke drinker but if we generate almost 50% of $$ from jugs of beer from the same tap , then i'm pretty sure the sodas are what they are supposed to taste like.
so i go back to George with his can of coke but this time he had a new complaint
"get me a new tub of ice. these ice ain't chunky enough"
i bit my lip and quizzed
"YES CHUNKY. not these little pathetic bits !"
the ice we have at the pub isn't your typical square shaped ice cubes , but rather small slivers of crescents. BUT SO FUCKING WHAT!!?!??!!
"okay i'll change it to CHUNKY ice cubes for you" i deliberately emphasised on the "chunky" with a sarcastic overtone but i guess George's brain is too obscured by the fats in his head to even notice.
chunky ? chunk your cheebye lah !
i went back to george's table shortly after and finally he's settled down with his glass of whiskey coke but what he didn't notice was how i DID NOT change the ice at all , i merely took the bucket of ice for a little walk and went back with the same bucket.
and what does this tell you ?
that the bloody fat glob of human lard was just throwing his weight ( haha. weight ! WEIGHT GEDDIT !?! pun definitely INTENDED) around simply because he knew he could , that we were too afraid to offend him.
well fuck you.
the next time he comes around i'll get even with him in my own ways. i'll probably rub the slices of lemon meant for his coke on the soles of my shoes first. or spit into his bottle of jack daniels.
har har har.