Sally B.

This is a story of something that actually happened to me (it's probably pretty obvious) when i used to work at a restraunt.... I had to change some names (unfortunately) but other than that, this story is completely %100 true.....

            63 year old, Sally B. walked into the door with the swagger of an 18 year old looking for a party, and the wardrobe of one too. She placed herself at her usual seat at the bar, ordered her usual drink, (a small glass of chardonnay) from the usual bartender, and let the alcohol slowly take its affect, which didn’t take long considering how much she drank at the last bar before they kicked her out. The bar tender was nice as usual, how could he not be when she left such great tips? By her third drink she was a little bit tipsy, but still followed the crowd out to the patio for their hourly smoke, even though she didn’t smoke, there was a crowd, and where there was a crowd, there was attention, and Sally B. always loved attention. After about 40 minutes out in the cold, she realized she was alone outside, how long she had been standing there muttering to herself, trying to make conversation, she didn’t know, but there was apparently something interesting going on inside. So, plucking a flower and placing it gingerly in her blond/gray bob cut hair, she slumped back inside, and (finding her chair had been seat jacked) sat at the opposite end of the bar, and ordered another 2 chardonnay. After the second glass she realized it was time to stop by the bathroom, and make room for more alcohol. She stumbled to the familiar wood sign with the word “banos” but halted to stop herself from crashing to the ground, by holding onto the counter. A plate full of cookies caught her eye and she stared.

            “How much for a couple of cookies to go?” she asked the young looking lady with dark eyeliner behind the counter. She wore a black shirt with “word” written across the front, a gray jacket, and a white and dark blue striped scarf.

            “That would be,” she glanced at her computer, and looking back up she said, “$4.35”

            “Okay,” she slurred. “Add it to my tab.”

            She punched a couple of buttons, before Sally opened her mouth again.

            “I love your…” she stopped trying to think of the right word, and she used her hands as if to try to show what she was talking about. “Neck… thing.” She didn’t look happy with her choice of words, but continued to anyway. “It’s so…” she stopped again, and threw her hands in the air like a ballerina. “Classy,” she finally settled with.

            The young cashiers cheeks turned red, as she mumbled a “Thank you” before her name was called from behind the bar.

            Sally B. turned.

            “What do you want?!” she hollered at the bartender. “I have to go to the bathroom!”

            “Go to the bathroom Sally, I need her,” he pointed at the girl behind the counter.

            “Oh,” she turned towards the bathroom, and stood in front of the two doors.

            She tried to figure out if she should enter the door with the immensely fat lady on the front, or the one with the sickly skinny man of the front. She stood there for ten minutes before a man passed in front of her, and entered the door with the skinny man on it.

            After doing her business, she stumbled back out, and crashed into the counter again. The young lady was with a customer, but through blurry vision, she couldn’t tell.

            “I’d like to pay my check now,” she slurred.

            “I’ll be right with you Sally,” the girl replied.

            Sally stood there dazed and confused, and wondering why she was standing there dazed and confused.

            Finally the cashier turned her attention to her.

            “Now, lets see if he has your stuff at the bar,” she walked past her, and towards the bar. Sally had no choice but to follow.

            After they reached the bar, Sally found that there was someone there, to make conversation too.

            “I wish I could stay longer,” she hollered. “It’s been fun, but I have to go home.”

            “Excuse me,” the girl interrupted her, and received a fearsome glare. “Did you give the bartender your credit card?”

            “Well, I don’t remember,” she looked around thoughtfully, then turned back to her previous conversation.

            She was rudely interrupted by the girl again, not three minutes later.

            “Did you leave your credit card with him?” she asked.

            She looked at her for a while, until the moment of déjà vu passed, and then replied, “no, I always pay in cash.”

            “Oh,” the girls face dropped.

            “Sally,” the other guy at the bar called. “You already paid your tab.”
            She looked down at the twenty she had pulled out to pay with, then looked back up.

            “Well, just give the bartender this,” she passed the girl the twenty. “Well, I’ll see everybody later.”

            Then Sally B. tumbled out of her chair, and swaggered out the door, the only proof of her presence being dirty glasses, and a twenty dollar tip.

The End

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