Imagine going to a pub after work with your coworkers. What would you do if another customer thought you were an employee at the pub?

That’s what happened to an IT worker in this story, so he simply explained that he doesn’t work there. Unfortunately, the ladies who thought he was an employee refused to believe otherwise, insisting that he take their order. He refuses, and with the bartender’s permission, decided to teach the ladies a lesson, or at least to try to teach them a lesson.

The lesson wasn’t exactly as effective as he had hoped, but he did get them to realize they were being somewhat stupid. The night only got worse for the ladies, and the whole bar found it very satisfying.

Let’s read all about it.

I got my supervisor, who got my manager, while real employee kicked the Ladies out.

I used to work for this IT company a while back. Friday tradition was to go and have pints in the nearest pub and bring the new-hires with us, to familiarize them with our traditions.

As we had been going to this pub for almost a decade, we were really friendly with the owner, working as a bartender and/or whatnot.

This Friday, was a bit special.

Some customers approached that were a rather unusual sight for this establishment.

Everything started when I was smoking outside of the pub. I watch these four fancy dressed senior ladies (in about their mid 50’s) approaching the pub. It was quite odd sight, as the pub was worst that I know of, but we didn’t mind.

It’s like an good old friends place where everything is a bit off and messed up, but as long as you enjoy your time there, you don’t mind, as everything is comfortable and you don’t need to stress over anything.

It was also located in the edge of dodgy industrial zone, so really made me wonder how the ladies even found the place, in their high heels, perms and furs and bling and such.

Anyways, I stub my cigarette and proceed to empty the ashtray to nearby trash bin, as the ashtray was quite full. (You’d do the same if you are smoking at your friends place and ashtray fills up, and this was for us, the friendly place to unwind after the week.)

Here’s what happened when he went back in the pub.

Then I proceed to re-enter the pub, while waiting for few moments to hold the door open for the ladies wishing them welcomes and such.

As I go in and approach the bar, I hear from my table that they want some snacks. No problems, I was on my way to the bar anyways. I approach the bar from the end and reach to grab 3 bags of chips/peanuts from the box where they keep them.

I give a quick look for the bartender and show “3” with my fingers, to receive “not bad”-face and a small nod back to me. Then I point the tray on the table, loaded with 6 pints and 6 shots and ask if this is “it”, for which bartender just nods again.

I leave the chips on the bar and take the tray across the floor, to the new-hire table and provide 2 drinks each: a pint and a shot, kind of welcoming drinks and to make them a bit more social for the night.

Alcohol can caue people to be a bit more talkative.

Our company seems to hire most socially awkward people, and it takes few years to get them to open up and join the society with rest of us.

Lots of alcohol helps with that.

I swap few jokes with them and go back to the bar to grab the snacks, which I drop to the table I originally left to have a smoke from. I’ll let my company know that I’ll be back shortly.

On my way to the loo, I return the tray.

The women from earlier assumed he was an employee.

Then, I’m humming that annoying “There’s a tree by a river and a hole in a ground..” as it was just playing while I was smoking.

I see the ladies have picked only standing table from front of the bar and are having trouble getting onto the seats, which were quite tall also.

As I’m passing them, one of them grabs my arm and informs me that they would like to get menus.

My response is something along the lines: “I don’t work here, but the menus are located at the bar. You can get all the service from the bar too.” and proceed to the loo.

Where’s that pint?

After washing my hands (and tucking my junk in first), I’ll head back and avoid the ladies by going behind them, while each are looking towards the bar for the service.

When I reach my table, I remember that my pint is empty and I was supposed to get a new one. I walk to the bar and notice bartender serving a bunch of new-hires, being quite busy, so grab one bottled beer from the fridge and write it down on a piece of paper, where most of our bar-tab is written by the bartender already.

It was quite common practice for us, as the bartender is often busy doing something else and we have been regulars there long enough to be able to do self-service, when only staff employee is having a break or so.

The bar clientel was pretty consistent.

There was maybe 10 customers per year, who weren’t “regulars”.

Often we actually would know better than the bartender, of what is missing from our tab, even in the nights when we dont do self-service.

I start my way back to my table, all relaxed and somewhat drunk already, it’s closer to 9pm and this would be my last (or second to last) drink for the evening, before I head back to the city.

The ladies still believed that he was an employee.

Then the story actually begins.

One of the ladies starts to caw for me to come for them. As it would be very small detour, I might as well, maybe they need some recommendations what to drink or then they are asking where the hell are they.

First of the ladies starts: “How rude of you to just pass us without taking care of us. We would like to order.”

To what I respond: “Sorry lady, I don’t work here. But the bar is there points to the 15m wide bar, about 3 meters away. You can order there.”

He listened to her rant, but she didn’t seem to be listening to him.

I’m about to take my leave, but the old crone doesn’t accept my answer: “Don’t lie to us. We saw you emptying ashtrays and delivering drinks and snacks for other customers. We are paying customers and want service, NOW.” and she is furiously tapping the table with her index finger to make her point.

That actually made funny noise, as she was loaded with all of these golden bracelets and such. It also looked like it takes lots of strength, as there was so many bracelets adding weight to her hand.

I just respond: “Paying? What did you pay so far? And yeah, those are my colleagues from IT-company. I don’t work here. This is a serf-service establishment. Besides, if you would even listen and have some manners, I might be helpful, but now please take your hands off from me and place your order to the bar.”

He starts to ignore her and plot how to respond.

Lady changes few tones towards bright red and starts: “You are very rude and not fit to customer service at all. You are the worst. I have never, I mean never, ever been treated so rudely…” and she keeps going with her rant.

The rant is so smooth and long that she must have practiced it many many times in front of a mirror and in other establishments.

I don’t even bother listening properly, but instead I’m thinking for my next response.

So I get this idea:

He silently communicated with the bartender.

While she keeps going, I lock my eyes with the bartender and we have following discussion in few seconds, using our eyes only:

Me: “Hey Jimmy, what’s up with The Witches?”

Bartender (Jimmy): “For heck if I care. Do I look like I care?”

Me: “No, not really.. So do you mind if I teach them some manners and tell them how things are?”

Bartender: “Feel free to do so. I don’t like them either and it’s a free country.”

The silent conversation continues.

Me: “Sure you don’t mind? They might complain to you.”

Bartender: “Not at all. Go ahead. They wouldn’t find anything suitable for their “class” to drink anyways here besides warm brandy.”

Me: “Alright, let’s mess with them up a bit.”

Bartender: “Sure, sure. Maybe they would learn some manners too. Besides, if they storm off, you guys probably spend more in one hour than they all night.”

The silent conversation ends, and he turns his attention back to the lady.

Me: “Thanks man. Stick around for a bit of a show.”

Bartender: “Cheers, it’s cool. I’ll be just watching from here, safely behind the bar.”

I interrupt her outburst just stating: “If you would act like a lady, you would be treated like a lady. With behavior like that, I don’t expect anyone to help you willingly, especially people who doesn’t work here. Like me.”

She picks up few more tones towards fire-truck color and I think I see her hands shaking a bit.

He keeps going.

So I continue: “I don’t know what is wrong with you, but my surveys have been at 95% for almost a decade. When ever we survey our customers, I get full points almost every time. Mostly because I’m so polite, friendly and willing to help every customer of us, in that IT company there, you can see through the window.”

Second lady now starts, with clearly increased volume: “Insolent brat. No one has ever, I mean never been treating us so rudely..”

To which I cut: “Heard it already. So if you don’t mind?” and I start to make my way past them to my table, until third one grabs me preventing me to leave, demanding to speak to my supervisor.

They are about to lose it, but let’s get them what they wish for.

The supervisor plays along.

I turn and call towards my table, where my supervisor is watching the situation: “Hey Tim, here we have The Witches here who wants to leave feedback of my customer service skills. Would you mind coming over? I don’t think they can work with a survey link.”, while I’m furiously winking my eye, unseen to the ladies.

Tim realizes what’s going on and comes up, wearing his company collared shirt and lanyard with our company information and such: “So, I see you have complaint about my employee pointing to his badge, with company name and such.”

The main witch (the first one) starts: “Yes. We have been treated unbelievably rudely and I wish to make a formal complaint.”

Tim just goes: “Sure thing. I am deeply concerned of our service level and to provide adequate support, that satisfies the customer needs. What is your service ID?” while pulling out his tablet.

They are so confused!

Witches are just: “Ehh.. what?”

Tim goes on: “Or your site ID then?”

Witches are like: “What are you talking about? This guy right there.” pointing to me, who has stepped back a bit, leaning (backwards) on the bar sipping my beer, bartender leaning on my side observing the situation from the other side.

Tim keeps going: “Maybe the contract ID then? We need something to verify that you are entitled for the service.”

The ladies don’t understand what’s happening at all.

Withes are utterly confused trying to gesture to my general direction: “We have never been asked those in a bar. Where we can get this information? What is this?”

Tim: “You need to talk to your Account Manager. If you don’t know even your service levels, we can’t do much for you in IT-company name. There are things you need to know before you demand anything. Sorry. No service for you from us without the information I just asked for.” and Tim is about to turn to join me to the bar, to refresh his beer.

But, one lady grabs him too and says: “Well.. WELL!! You can’t just shut us out with some managerial nonsense. Of course we are entitled for service and we demand service now!”

Tim shakes her off and responds: “No you are not. Not from us in our company pointing and tapping his badge again”.

The women think they’ve won.

The witches then looks like they are going to turn into a group of She-Hulks and just rampage entire establishment down. One of them starts to yell: “Manager, I want to talk to your manager! I will be calling the police if I can’t talk to your manager! I demand to speak to your manager!”

Tim keeps his cool: “Alright, but I don’t think that’ll help anything, you ignorant salty old broads. Hey James! Stop over here please? The Witch choir is not moaning in harmony again and needs a conductor!” and James gets up from the table I was going to return for past 15 minutes.

Old hags are admiring the performance of each other, like their only goal in their lives are to get the manager called out. They congratulate each others with snobby looks and with that kind of “not bad”-face. I was expecting some back patting and surely they complied.

James walks to the table and asks: “So what seems to be the problem?”

The women even resort to lying.

Crow #2 asks: “Are you manager of these guys?”

To which James responds: “Yes. I am. They are my best employees in IT-company.”

Crow #2 then pushes Tim (or more like guides gently by pushing his chest slowly) next to me and focuses on the Manager after sitting back down. Tim leans on the bar next to me and nods to the bartender who starts to pour a pint for Tim after Tim looks the tap and goes “Mmhm.”

James, the Manager: “So, I take it that you have a complaint?”

Crows starts to caw all at once, making up ludicrous accusations for us calling them names and stealing from them and so on, even calling us jerks..

The manager isn’t messing around.

James just keeps listening patiently, until he starts following exchange:

James: “Are you serious?”

Ladies: “Yeah. Of course we are.”

James: “But that makes you stupid.”

Ladies: “What? A-a-a-a stupid? Of course it doesn’t. What makes you say that?”

He finally clarifies the situation.

Jsmes: “They told you that they work for that IT-company there, under my management, so what makes you think they need to serve you in this pub?”

Ladies: “But we saw him emptying ashtray and brining drinks and snacks for other people.”

James: “Yes, but didn’t they tell you that they don’t work here? Multiple times I might add? Is it forbidden him to empty a full ashtray, like any decent human being would do?”

Ladies: “Well.. yes, they did, but.. And no.. But,.. “

He presses the issue.

James: “No buts! So you are admitting that you are stupid? Great. So what do you want from me?”

Ladies: “No, we are not admitting anything. We want service from you (meaning the pub).”

James: “Isn’t it a bit stupid to want service from people who doesn’t work here?”

Ladies tries to not to answer, but James keeps the pressure on: “Well..? Is it stupid to demand service from people who doesn’t work here? What makes your entitled witches think you can just demand anyone to serve you?”

He really lays into them.

Ladies: “A B-b-b-b.. Witches!?? Yes, but we thought that they work here. You don’t understand.”

James: “Yes? That’s not an excuse, is it? They told you that they work for IT-company. Why you still assumed them working here, even if they told you many times that they don’t? Isn’t that a stupid thing to do? What do I don’t understand? That you still want service from people who doesn’t work here? What I don’t understand? What?”

Ladies: “No, but we thought..”

James: “So you were not acting stupid? Then only option I can think of is that you are total idiots who just wants to push people around to do your bidding, even if they are total outsiders of the situation, as you ignore what they are saying. So which one is it? Well? Lets hear it? You probably just ask random people in the airports to handle your luggage for you? You are the worst. Ab-so-lute-ly worst human beings that exists.”

They finallly admitted they were wrong.

Ladies: “No, but we were only mistaken. No harm done.”

At this point, James shuts up and looks at all the ladies, just smiling for them. Ladies becomes clearly very inconvenient. This keeps going on for a full minute.

James then continues: “And still no apology for OP, Tim or me, even as you admitted being wrong and insulting all of us while being rude. Ab-so-lu-te-ly worst human beings that exists. As you said, if you run into jerks all day, it is very likely that you are the jerks.”

Ladies starts to sulk a bit, after realizing that they are actually acting like stupid jerks and didn’t apologize.

They were victorious.

James imitating the witch #1 (very well I might add): “Well.. I have never, ever being contacted by such rude customers in any of my jobs in the past.” returning to normal voice: “Was there anything else or do you mind leaving us to enjoy our evening without further complaining?”

Ladies finally relent and mumbles something while turning their heads towards their own table, rudely I might add. They gesture James to leave them alone, like an emperor would shoo his underlings away.

James goes back to our table and we follow him, victoriously. We laugh and laugh and keep having fun.

James shouts out towards the bar: “Hey Jimmy, bring us a round of those shots, now we are celebrating our victory!” (James was referring to a drinking game we had earlier, as one new-hire needed to throw up ensuring our win, these drinks were paid already, they were just waiting for opportune moment. This was mostly done only to taunt The Witches. Otherwise, shots would be for the road to keep us warm.)

The ladies finally try to order from an actual employee.

Jimmy responds: “No problems, coming right up!”

As Jimmy brings our shots in about 10 minutes and heads back, one of the ladies stops him and says: “Well, you are staff definitely, right? Good.. we would like to finally order some drinks and food. We would like to have this and two of that and couple of these with one of them, and if you have good expensive wine, we would all like to have a glass of it.”

There was no apology or such and their attitude was something I wouldn’t welcome to my establishment at all.

Jimmy just responds: “You need to order from a bar.” which doesn’t please the ladies at all.

Jimmy really put them in their place!

After like good 10 minutes making these “I’m not pleased”-voices, one of the ladies goes up to the bar, after all of them have decided what to drink and eat and sides and such about their trendy “allergies”. (Regular beer for celiac?? Allergic to pepper and onions, ordering onion-mushroom steak or what.)

Lady gets the attention of Jimmy and lists their entire order rapid fire style, while ensuring from her group that everything was correct and them really talking down to Jimmy, who really hasn’t wronged the ladies in any way. Lady just did this to be belligerent and out of maliciousness.

Jimmy then responds: “You need to order from a bar. Not this bar, but any other bar gesturing the door. We don’t serve rude people here, this is a sanctuary for the working class. Besides, kitchen closed at 9pm, so no. Closest bar serving food at this hour (maybe 9:30pm) is 3 train stops towards the city, in XY shopping center, open all night. Oh, the train stop is at the other side of the industrial zone, so you probably need to go around left side, as you don’t have work passes to walk through taking the shortcut. It’s pouring down rain, so..have a nice evening, by all means, still gesturing the door if you please.”

Everyone in the bar had been paying attention.

I know it’s an hour walk at least, while shortcut takes maybe 10 minutes, just a bit longer than having a smoke.

Ladies just packs up their stuff and leaves while all huffin’ and puffin’ for “a place where they will get some respect” and try to get any support from other customers, to no avail.

Instead, there are wild cheering all around.

The whole encounter had attracted lots of attention, in otherwise boring place.

They saw the ladies again when they left.

Remember I mentioned 1 drink more? Well, I had few more. Last train was at 23:30, which we all took (apart from Jimmy).

After probably taking right, doubling the distance to the station, The Witches were also waiting for the same train, but unable to get into the platform even to have cover from rain, as they didn’t have train passes, nor cash.

They started to shout to us, demanding that we assist them with the tickets, clearly being insanely ticked off, blaming us for their misery.

They didn’t recognize us before we were at closer range, under the street light.

He made it clear that he wasn’t an employee.

Here comes the malicious compliance. “Look lady, it might be hard to believe, but I don’t work for the railroad either. But just follow the instructions on the screen on a working machine around the corner pointing towards the other machines, like everyone else.”

I knew that the screen in the machine they use, has been busted for months. Go 30 meters around the station and there are 2 perfectly working machines, which everyone uses to top-up travel passes and when using credit card. There is even a sign about it in the machine they try to operate, which they don’t bother reading.

If you just press a button and put coins in, you don’t need the display, everyone working around there knows that.

They just respond: “But this machine doesn’t work.”

They clearly hadn’t learned their lesson.

I just lower my eyes and shake my head in disbelief a bit and proceed towards the gates while responding softly: “It does, but the display is broken, so it’s hard to use.”

I hear ladies exclaiming: “No, it doesn’t work. It. Is. Not. Working! Are you stupid or what?”.

We stare our mouths open and just continue, as the train is about to leave.

Two of the three other witches looks at the one with expression of: “Shut the hell up witch and let these guys help us..” But it was too late. These witches (or at least 1 of them) really didn’t learn anything today.

He felt this very satisfying.

Them looking at us, merrily going through the gates with high spirits, high-fiving each other while approaching the waiting train, I can’t even imagine how they felt.

But that feeling made me feel very warm inside, especially when the last train left the station leaving the soaked ladies in middle of nowhere (it’s summer time, they’ll be fine. Late and soaked and hungry, but fine.).

There is valuable life lesson to you, be polite to people and listen to them if you ask something or if you need help. You just can’t boss people around like that and act like you are better than others and always right.

Karma is a… no actually, that would be you ladies.

That was a long read, but there was a lesson worth learning.

If you enjoyed this story, check out this post about an employee who figured out how to stop his manager from constantly stealing his phone charger.

Let’s see how Reddit responded to this story.

Yeah, it doesn’t seem that surprising.

Another person shares how they read it.

It was a lot of words for a silent conversation with just eyes.

This person seems to think OP went into too many details.

That was a very long and detailed story, but there were also multiple facets to it. First, OP was mistaken for an employee. Then his actual supervisor was mistaken for a supervisor working at the bar, and finally the manager was mistaken for a manger at the bar until he so eloquently corrected the rude and entitled ladies.

Calling them “ladies,” I think of the scene in the old Disney animated movie “The Aristocats” where the little white kitten, Marie, says, “I’m a lady, that’s why” while proceeding to shove her way in front of her brothers and fight with them. That’s the kind of “ladies” these ladies seem to be.

Hopefully, they learn their lesson eventually. Maybe missing the train in the rain got the point across.