So apparently some kind of concert ended nearby, and our lounge was just a bit more busier than usual. I was at the front checking ID’s and just generally greeting people as they came to our lounge. Every night you’re more than likely going to have to deal with your fair share of idiots. A good approximation would probably be one for every fifty patrons, male and female, it doesn’t matter. Now to be honest, after working this job for more than six years, I’ve lost a large chunk of faith in mankind…Mainly because I encounter a lot of idiots on the job.
Now I’m not sure what it is, whether people just have some kind of switch turned on and off when they go out to venture the nightlife of their cities, if common sense just goes out the window because the laws of everything no longer apply, or if it’s just some kind of statistical anomaly so complex that I’ll never be able to understand it, whether I wanted to try to understand it or not.
Anyways, so at this lounge, there’s a bit of a dress code. It’s not even a bad one, we don’t require you to wear a suit and a tie, some nice dress shoes, etc. We just ask that you don’t wear plain colored shirts, sweats, athletic gear, baseball caps, etc. Pretty standard right? This guy came strolling up to my door wearing some tan colored sweat pants, a white tall tee that ended somewhere above his knees, and a St. Louis Rams baseball cap.
Sweatpants Guy: Yo, what’s up my ninja, this place looks crackin’ tonight. The bitches is lookin’ fine, I done smoked me an eighth of this orange colored dro that was off the chain, and my niggas is already in there.
Me: Damn man, as much as I’d like to let you in there to celebrate with your boys, I can’t cause you’re violating dress code, on several levels. I’m afraid I can’t let you in man. Do you live nearby? I’ll give you a stamp on your wrist so if you go home and change clothes, you can cut the line.
Sweatpants Guy: Huh? Nigga I’m a boss. Them rules don’t apply to a boss.
Me: Yeah, if you’re the boss, some rules generally don’t apply to you, but you’re not my boss, and you don’t pay my bills at the end of the night, so until you get some jeans and a dress shirt on or something, I can’t let you in.
Sweatpants Guy: See, that’s where you wrong, I am yo’ boss. I pay to get up in this bitch, I buy some drinks for myself, my comrades in there already, and some fine ass bitches.
Me: Well technically by that kind of logic, I own T-Mobile? Cause I pay my bill, they need me as a customer…
Sweatpants Guy: See, now you just bein’ disrespectful. I want to talk to your boss.
Me: I’m the head of security. There’s nobody above me. You can talk to me directly about any problems.
Sweatpants Guy: Naw, see somebody pay you, and I want to speak to that individual.
Me: Hold on, by your logic, because you're the customer, you are my boss because the money you spend is going into my pockets. So you'd want to speak to yourself...? Why can’t you speak to me if I’m the head of security? The only person above me is the owner of the establishment, and I highly doubt he’d be at his own bar at 1 in the morning on a Friday.
Sweatpants Guy: Naw, see that’s what you don’t understand young’un, cause you not a boss like me. The kind of talk I have is reserved only for bosses. Little nigga underling like you wouldn’t be able to comprehend the vast intellect I speak that only other bosses can take in, ya’ dig?
Me: Even if that was true, I still couldn’t let you in to go talk to him, and I can’t leave the front door without nobody here at the front. So, that’s probably not going to happen.
Sweatpants Guy: See I respect you. I’m a CEO at my company. I can appreciate a good employee. I got workers under me, and when I give them orders, they carry them out without question, and they do they job.You just doin’ your job and I understand that, you’d be a good ass worker. But you disrespectin’ me in front of all these bitches smoking cigarettes n shit out here by not letting me in.
Me: CEO of a company? At a lounge here, at 1AM on a Friday night, wearing sweatpants and a tall white tee? What company do you own? Is it a Fortune 500? Are you in the S&P? The Dow Jones Industrial? NASDAQ? Or are you a small a startup?
Sweatpants Guy: Look, to prevent any future problems and you further disrespectin’ me in front of all these bitches, just go get your boss, so us “bosses” can speak amongst one another, cause you clearly aren’t understandin’ me.
Me: Tell you what, if you can tell me what the acronym CEO means, I’ll let you in.
Sweatpants Guy: CEO means “Real Boss Man Type Shit” nigga. You gon’ let me in now and quit wastin’ my time?
At this point I just stared at him without saying anything, I just stared at him with the most utter, confused look on my face. I continued to do this for the next two minutes until he got uncomfortable, told me to go fuck myself, and he left…
