When you hear of people going psycho on bartenders, you tend to think of frat boys or thugs or Tara Reid, generally people who look like trouble. Not true, sometimes "Classy" people are the worst of all. I was working at a bar that offered a variety of entertainment, like karaoke and rock bands and hip hop on the weekends. Sundays was blues night, which was my favorite because it attracted an older, low maintenance clientele who didn't get in fights or try to sneak in minors or any of the usual bullshit typical of the other nights of the week.The one hitch: there's always someone who has a you-are-beneath-me-and-I-don't-have-to-be-nice-to-you attitude. Linda Hornbuckle was performing that night and it was going to be busy, so of course the doorman no-showed and the other bartender called in sick (read: flaked), leaving me alone to deal with the crowd.

  So I'm two people deep at the bar and I'm busting ass but keeping up. I move on to a well dressed woman who is chatting with a guy who is obviously mentally handicapped. "What would you like, ma'am?" She ignores me. I ask again. She glances at me and continues her conversation. I ask again. Still nothing. I say "You aren't ready? Okay. What would you like?" to the person next to her. "Mirror Pond." I go to pull the beer, she notices me walking away and realizes she lost her turn. "Heeeeyy!! We're ready! We're ready!" She's screaming at the top of her lungs. The retarded guy follows her lead. "We weddy! We weddy!" He's flapping his arms and getting very excited. I finish the order and collect for it. This skank was just getting started. "My brother is mentally retarded! How dare you not wait on us!" I tried to wait on you three times you fucking cow, you wouldn't order. Now you're screaming to the bar that I won't wait on you because of you brother's disability. Her brother is jumping up and down now. By now the entire bar is watching the spectacle of me getting screamed at by this turbo bitch and her Tard. Much as I would have loved to have bounced her buffy ass right out the door and thrown her Coach purse at her head behind her, I had a dozen people waiting to order, and the band's about to start. So I stick my index finger in her face and hiss "Don't yell at me. Now I won't wait on you."

  Surprisingly, that's all it took to shut her up. She looks stunned that a lowly bartender had stood up to her, then embarassed that her tirade had backfired. Seeing that she was dangerously close to not being able to see the band, she quickly walked into the depths of the club with the Tard in tow, who was confused as to why sis didn't get what she wanted. She wisely didn't come to the bar again, and I made sure people only ordered drinks for themselves the rest of the night. Eventually the woman who collected the cover charge approached me with the Tard alongside and asked if I would wait on him. Yes, him I will wait on, because he has an excuse for his behavior. And he had much better manners without his asshole sister present. He waited patiently while I finished the order ahead of him, talked respectfully, and said Thank You. Maybe he should have been in charge of her instead of the other way around.