In a move not entirely unrelated to the change of company and new ties we've got ourselves a new boss at the place I like to think of as "my club". This new force to be reckoned with is a thirty something no-nonsense individual who's been in the bar trade since they were 18 and for the minute seems to be sensible.
We've yet to find out what this new bosses personal bugbears are but no doubt they'll creep out of the woodwork soon enough. Then it'll either be a case of, 'yeah no problem, I can do it that way if you prefer' or 'One doorman for hire, clean and housetrained'. Hopefully it won't be the latter but who knows where the new supremo is taking the place.
If the uniform changes to something comical and we have to seek personal approval from the manager to even approach a customer then I'll be happy to get the hell out of dodge. This has happened in a pub I worked at on relief and I was not a happy bunny over that.
In most of my dealing with management, note the lack of rubber chicken gags, I tend to keep my head down and my philosophy out of it. If I screw up doing the job then I've no complaint being kicked out but if the boss just ends up thinking I'm a tosser for an offhand afterhours remark then thats a poor way to start walking.
Time to surrender the Jim Davidson/Roy Chubby Brown/Oswald Mosely joke book and not mention the one about the woman with two black eyes.
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