This week I've been dealing with more shit than is necessary from friends of the owners, friends of the managers, friends of the doorman who worked here once upon a time before they got fired for being shit.
All of them asking favours and all of them getting refused.
If I know a punter by sight, or even by reputation, then I'm happy to lend an ear and see if their favour is within my means. Good loyal customers are worth putting yourself out for a little as they'll keep the place going in the quiet times.
It's the random who walks up and asks for something using a name as a lever that winds me up. I don't respond well to that. If you think I'm just there to serve you alone because you know the name of the manager you're sadly mistaken. In most places I work it's written on a plaque about 3 inches above my head and although it's nice the punters can read it's not a guaranty of entry when I'm blocking the doorway.
The kind of leverage I respond to is realising you're not stuck so far up your own arse that you can't be civilised to a person who works in customer services at the most unsociable hours possible. I'd rather you talked coherently to me as a member of the human race and then I might take your desires into consideration.
It's only bitten me on the arse once and that wasn't too bad. I refused entry to a scruffy, drunken student looking tree hugger type. It was a nice bar late on a Saturday night. He says he knows Nel. I tell him that's nice of him but I'm not letting him in. He wanders off and calls Nel. Nel then has to come out of the office, through the massed crowds and to me on the door. He then says to let him in, he's alright. I smile, nod and becon the punter back. I send him inside and bite my tongue.
Got a growling at from the agency boss for that and told not to be so obvious in rejecting punters. How that's possible from the punters point of view I have no idea. Oh well, I think I'll just keep sending them away until I get fired. I think I'm good at selecting the the intended clientele for admission.
If I had the choice, it'd be over 25s, smartly dressed, no loud groups, no scousers at every place I worked. I;d have sod all trouble inside and have a fun night of it on the door too. Oh well, best just go and get into a mood to kill everyone again.
Occasional postings from a toe-to-toe customer services physical interface operative.
The ramblings and collected tales from a jobbing licensed doorman. Tales of drunken woe, machismo, loose women, loose fists and 99% boredom. Hopefully updated as thoughts worthy of an audience hit my mind.
'Over a decade at it and not winning any beauty contests'
1 comment:
How's about proposing a rule to management on the lines of "Anyone who wants to come in because he knows $PERSON must pay a fee of £50, refundable when $PERSON tells the bouncer this is OK by him in person.
If $PERSON doesn't call, the £50 gets put into the Bouncers' Benevolent Fund as a non-refundable 'pissing off the bouncers' fee, and this £50 does not subsequently affect the twerp's chances of not getting thrown out for being a berk.
Oh, and one other thing: NO EXCEPTIONS to the fee. None at all; even the owner pays it (and gets it refunded immediately).
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