Toadstool's stories

[Toadstool Senior Member Find all posts View Profile Close Toadstool]

Not every bouncer story ends up in a fight. In my 18 months of night life, I've been in one fight and this next story is not that. Sometimes, people just need to be understood and I want to show how ridiculous some people can end up being.
There are plenty of night hosts who will welcome the opportunity to get physical and physically toss a guy out. Personally, I like the softer approach of empathy and professionalism. That may make me look weak to some of my more battle-ready coworkers, although I enjoy the mental wit as a challenge.

I work in an upscale sports bar.
If you walked in, you'd be greeted by lovely hostesses in a tight black, one-piece dress and high heels. They'd ask if you want a seat at the bar or a table and then they'd grab you a menu and escort you to wherever you want to go. Inside, you'd find yourself stunned by the ninety-nine televisions flashing a sporting game on each of them and one 27-foot projector screen that shows the main game of the day. Yesterday, it was the Packers game(they pack fudge, don't they?)
If you happen to look around yourself, you might see an angry looking, bald headed night host in a suit and tie who may remind you of the Hitman. Don't worry though, that guy's angry expression is just how his face looks. He's actually a pretty nice guy if you talk to him and some have even called him sentimental. Some also have called him an asshole but it really depends on the context. He calls himself Toadstool and these stories are true without the slightest bit of embellishment.
So what do I do for the entirety of the shift? Well I flirt with the waitresses and talk to whoever I can ... just waiting for that ONE occasion where my services are needed. To be honest, this place is rather decent and the pricing on the menu detracts most guys who are looking to fight (That is, except that one time when a man was having his bachelor party. He was with his friends, enjoying himself when suddenly, out of the blue and for no reason any one could uncover, a girl in her mid to late 20's broke a bottle over his head and tried to stab him with it).

Anyway, yesterday, a big guy walks in. He's at least 6 feet tall and just as wide. I'd estimate maybe 250 pounds, black and wearing a bright orange shirt. He sits down at the bar and orders a beer and tries to talk to the guy next to him, who was with his girl and wanted some privacy. So Orange Shirt stands up, gets closer and start leaning in on the guy, touching him, getting way too close.
The bartender comes and gets me, where I was at the front chatting with one of the managers about whatever. When I got there, I told Orange Shirt to mind his space and that not everyone enjoys being touched by a stranger.
"Fuck him, the guy's a punk anyway," he said, walking towards a table of 3 white males.
"Exactly. Don't concern yourself with people like that." Whatever, as long as he doesn't start fondling any other people, I'll be happy.

So, Orange Shirt walks over to this other table so confidently and so determinedly that I was almost fooled into thinking he was meeting his friends there. Only later would I realize, he has no friends. I check the 3 guys' facial expression of confusion and then decide to ask, "Do you guys know each other?"
The 3 men shake their heads but the older man in the middle waves me off. "If anything happens, we'll come get you," He said. So I hover around and keep an eye out.
Fourty minutes go by and they're all still talking. Then I see the guy at the bar get into a staring contest with Orange Shirt. I approach the guy at the bar and said to ignore the much larger man. "He took my photo and I just wanted to make sure I was posing nicely."
I paused. "...He took your photo?"
"Yea. I'm just sitting here minding my business when I look over and catch him taking shots of me and my girl with his phone." His girl reluctantly nodded.
"Okay, don't confront him," i said. "Leave that bit to me."
As I walked away, he called out "Yea but I'm not just gonna sit here and let someone show me up. I gotta do something for myself." It's true. I'd probably do the same thing, but that would get really messy for me. It's too easy for tables to get flipped, glass to break and wounds to appear. Who looks bad in that situation? Well, I do of course. I can already hear my boss now - "And what was Toad doing throughout this whole thing? Can't he handle it? Maybe we should find someone else."
I walked over to Orange Shirt. "Excuse me," I said, interrupting whatever he was saying. "Hello again. My name is Toad and I'm security here at the FancyPants Restaurant. It was just brought to my attention that you were seen photographing two patrons you previously showed aggression to. That's not something we can tolerate here at FancyPants, so I'm asking you to leave. Now, I'd really like to think you'll cooperate with me on this. You will, won't you?" It's my canned line. I grabbed it from a book called Verbal Judo that one of my supervisors lent to me. It has really come in handy for me.
I saw his hand reach for his beer, which I grabbed first and took away from him. "Yea fine, he says."

"Cool, let's go." I point to the exit.
He gets up, stands at least 4 inches taller than me, and looks down at me. I meet his gaze cooly. a few seconds go by. "I didn't do nothin' wrong man, I'm a real nigga you know, I wouldn't be messin' with no people like that." Thank you NWA for your contribution.
"I can appreciate that, but the bartender and that guy plus his girl all said that they saw you photograph them." I'm hoping that real niggas don't feel the need to sucker punch me.
"Man fuck that guy. I want to beat the shit out of him now. All I tried to do was be nice and now I'm getting kicked out." Like he is the victim of circumstance and had no role to play whatsoever in this. Okay, I'll play along.
"You know, sometimes people are just touchy and antisocial. Don't take it personally, man." He turned and started walking towards the door.
We got maybe five feet ahead when he turned around. "I'm gonna stab him. I'm gonna cut that fucker." He takes a step towards the two at the bar.
I put my hand on his chest and become a wall. "If you do that, then I'm going to have to get involved and take you down. The police are going to have to be called and they're going to take you away in handcuffs. You'll end up eating what they feed you and sleeping where they make you sleep. Is some stupid guy you don't know really worth it? I'm trying to help you here, just forget about him and let yourself leave the restaurant so you can go enjoy your own food in your own home."
He slumps down. "Yea man, you're right." He turns around and I follow him outside.

He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "I'm going to wait for him to come out."
"Don't do that,"
"Yea I will because all I tried to do was talk to him and now he's getting me kicked out. I'm going to punch that fucker."
Is this two-hundred-and-fifty plus pound tough-guy really saying what I think he is? Is he actually just sad because someone doesn't like him? "Why are you letting him affect you?" I asked. "You have a whole city here full of people you can go and meet. Forget about that one antisocial nobody. Go out to another bar, buy yourself a drink and try again." You know, reading this over, I have to say ... I sound like a dumbass.
He liked it though, because he nodded his head. "Yea, you're right man. You're cool, you know that? You've been right this whole time." He extends his arms and tries to fucking hug me.
"whoaaa there. Calm your jets, turbo. I'm not a touchy-feely kinda guy." His boobs weren't perky enough for my liking either.
He shakes my hand instead, and walks off.

What a guy. Just a lonely, tough man walking through life, looking for friends. The bartender, an attractive latina, asked me if I felt confident I could take him. I told her that I think it's more challenging to convince a guy into wanting to leave than forcing him to do it.
"Okay, but if he punched you, what would you do?"
"I don't know, it hasn't happened to me in a long time."
"So if I got to punch you like this," she said in her thick accent, swinging her hand slowly...
You know, looking back I should have given her a titty-twister or something. Or pulled her hair and said No violence! Bad girl! Or accused her of trying to touch me and that I could see right through her childish little game. You know, anything fun and flirty.

...Instead, I took her down. Right to the floor. The managers at the FancyPants Restaurant didn't scold me or anything. They just gave me that disapproving head-shake. You know the one that says, "You were doing so well but now I'm not so sure." Ahh, better luck next time Toady!

[lil-crazy Senior Member Find all posts View Profile Close lil-crazy]

Good story. Just sounds like orange shirt had a few to many to drink and punk dude relied too much on you. I kinda feel punk dude was in wrong too. But for the woman with the punk if she only had 1 guy to dream about out of you 3 it is toady for sure. You handled that situation like a true man.

[Dangler Senior Administrator☼ Wizard ☼ White Tiger Award 2015 Find all posts View Profile Close Dangler]

Thanks for sharing your experience, using paragraphs , and putting together a well worded post. I will rep you for your effort!
You may yet be written into the 'The Dangler Chronicles'. Stay tuned.

[camaro Senior Member Member of the month June 2013 Find all posts View Profile Close camaro]

Way to keep cool toad.

[arkham Senior Member Find all posts View Profile Close arkham]

Hitman you're getting rusty

[Toadstool Senior Member Find all posts View Profile Close Toadstool]

Thanks for sharing your experience, using paragraphs , and putting together a well worded post. I will rep you for your effort!
You may yet be written into the 'The Dangler Chronicles'. Stay tuned.

I'm already in them! I gave birth and ran away

thanks for the rep and feedback. I'm glad I can give some entertainment I'll be posting more as memory serves me better.

[Dangler Senior Administrator☼ Wizard ☼ White Tiger Award 2015 Find all posts View Profile Close Dangler]

Ah yes my good man, but through the creativity (or in my case perversion) of writing, there can be yet another cameo appearance, spores and more.


toad.jpg

[Thenewguy2 Banned Find all posts View Profile Close Thenewguy2]

I am just waiting for the next story...

[Steneo Senior MemberPEGym Hero Member of the Month Dec 2013 Find all posts View Profile Close Steneo]

I am just waiting for the next story...

Seconded. It was a great story only made better by the skill of the writer. Seriously, I read a LOT of stuff (college professor) and this was really nice. Engaging...not easy

[Toadstool Senior Member Find all posts View Profile Close Toadstool]

Ask and you shall receive.

Money has always been a bit of an issue for me. I grew up poor, and a poor mentality became me. I've read that being rich is really all about how you look at money, how you think, and the lifestyle you live. So, too, is being poor. The secrets of wealth have eluded me thus far and I find myself on kijiji scrounging up any job I can do, which is what I was doing this one particular weekend. Any job would do, just to pay the bills. I do so enjoy my apartment complex, with its granite entrance and spacious living arrangements. The rooftop saltwater pool, which I never use, is also a nice luxury to boast about, not to mention the hot tub. It's just more expensive than I'd care to admit, so i wind up putting myself through situations as dumb as the one I'm about to describe.

Searching through the job fields, I came across one ad asking for a bouncer for one job down in Little Italy. At this point, I had been doing maybe 2 months of night life security and thought, what the hell - sounds easy. The pay was a hundred dollars for 4.5 hours of work, in cash. I message the ad poster and got a reply within minutes, telling me to be at a certain location at a certain time, dressed all in black.
I get to the scene early and I see two other guys there, both with bullet proof vests on.
"What's the deal with the vests?" Was how I greeted them.
"Oh, we just got off from our other job at the mall and didn't have time to change," said the shorter fat one. He had a nervous smile and brown, matted hair. I approached him to shake his hand and properly introduce myself, but was instead greeted by the fierce smell of his BO. Someone's not getting laid tonight.

We introduced ourselves and waited for the man who organized the whole event to arrive. He showed up maybe 10 minutes late or so and greeted us with a big smile. He was very thin, shorter than me and black as night. He told us that it was a party that a group of people were throwing and we were just there to make sure nothing got out of hand. He made it sound so very casual and easy.
I walk in and scanned the area. It was one large room with a bar on the one side of the entrance, and a large cloakroom on the opposite side. The carpet covering the floor was a dark red, and at the far end of the room was a stage where I could see stairs going down. I was told that my post would be on the stage, overlooking the whole of the room, which was basically one huge dance floor. The DJ booth would be behind me and part of my job was to make sure that no one approached it.
Me and the other two guards were the only white people that night. The whole place filled up with thickly accented black men and women who looked at me as if to say, "you lost, bro?" I think maybe I was.

The music pounded foreign reggae, none of it really any good, and the 4 eight-foot speakers crackled and hissed as if threatening to blow. The music was so loud, I couldn't hear myself speak. I even tried. I said, "I can't hear myself speak." I said it louder and louder until someone looked at me funny. I must have looked weird, being bald bouncer talking to himself on stage, so I decided to stop, although if i had to get anyone out it was going to be very tricky.
That's when i see some guy spark up a joint indoors. I can't see any other guard to signal, so I jumped off the stage and approach the man. I wasn't about to waste my energy yelling, so I tried sign language. I put my index finger and thumb close to my mouth as though I were smoking a joke, then made a gesture as if tossing it to the floor and stepping on it.
The guy watches me, turns his back to me, and then takes a big drag. Oh great, someone who has something to prove. I grab him by the arm and pull him close to me so I can speak - yell, actually - into his ear.
"Time to go." Admittedly, I was more aggressive than I should have been. It's my current opinion that any fight that escalates is at least 70% the bouncer's fault. He's the one who is sober and should be in control. Don't worry though, things weren't about to get physical between us in this story. That story will be for another day.

He yanks his arm away from me and stands tall, sticking his chest out. I take a step towards him and knock over his beer with my foot, completely by accident. Who puts their drink on a dance floor? Morons do. And what else do morons do? They act very surprised when someone knocks that beer over.
He starts yelling and flailing his arms around. I honestly cannot hear a fucking word this clown is saying.
So I yell just that. "I can't hear a fucking word you're saying," I leave out the clown part. I at least had the sense to know that wouldn't have been helpful to me. "Come outside with me so we can talk." Wouldn't you know it? He did.

He was on drugs. He must have been. I'm no expert in the field of narcotics and I'm not the best at seeing the signs of someone on them, but this guy was obviously on something. The whites of his eyes were solid red, his pupils completely dilated and he had white stuff at the mouth. No it wasn't rabies, maybe just a very dry mouth from the drug and alcohol combination.
I really wish I could recount what he said in an audio format for you guys. I lack the vocabulary to describe just how all over the place he was with both his story and his tonality. He started off telling me I'm an asshole, then went on about how he deserves a second chance from me, then something about his girlfriend and then he talked about his mother, and then he said he knows the person who owns the whole place and he was going to get me fired if I don't let him back in. Then he asked me to let him back in and told me about how his friends were in there, waiting for him and how he got nice shoes just for this one occasion ... as though ANY of that had ANYTHING to do with what I pulled him out for. I couldn't have cared less if I tried.
I really need to stop and appreciate how a person can go from calling me an asshole, then asking me to change my mind about kicking him out in the same sentence. You guys are getting free tips on how to stay inside the bars or clubs you go to. Not that any of you have trouble staying in, I'm sure.

A side note: If anyone reading this has *ever* used the following sentence, or one of its derivatives, I will slap you: "I (or my daddy) owns this whole block and will get you fired in the week." The guys who say this quickly become the laughing stock of the bar staff.
I try not to keep people like that excluded from the jokes I make about them, so I say stupid shit right to their face. "Oh no, please sir, don't go run and tell your daddy that you got thrown out by the mean 'ol bouncer. I'll do anything!"
"Then let me back in."
"The going rate is twenty dollars, but since you're rich, I'll cut you a deal. (pause) A hundred bucks."

But I digress.

His speech much have taken a good 10 minutes and I listened to him without interruption. Once he was done, he didn't bother for me to reply, and tried to walk right back in. I grabbed him by the arm, smiled and shook my head.
"Not quite," I began but was soon interrupted.
"Hey!" I turned and it was a the event manager. "Let him back in."
"But this guy," I tried to get something in.
"Go ahead," the manager said to the other, who smiled triumphantly and walked back inside. The manager turned to me and said, "I don't want any trouble."
"Of course not. Isn't that why I'm here?" He shrugged. "There were good reasons for him getting kicked out."
"Like what?" So I explained everything. "Oh, he shouldn't be inside then." No, of course not. Guys on drugs are bad-news bears for your liquor license.
"Well I just lost credibility in his eyes, so you'll have to deal with him now." He nodded and made a face. A grimace you could call it.

I walked back inside and immediately see some tall muscular guy, maybe 5'10 and 200 pounds, shove a much taller girl into the cloakroom to my left. I charge into the cloak room after them just in time to see him slap her in the face. A serious, open-handed, full wind-up slap, complete with a grunt and hip twist that would have made a fighter proud. The guy put his whole body into it. His girl fell to the floor and held her face, seemingly paralyzed. I was just impressed she was still conscious.
I jump in front of him. "What the hell, man?"
"WHAT?" The tone he used was that of surprise that I would stop him, as though he didn't know what he just did was a bad thing. It was like he was having a good time with his friend when suddenly someone just aggressively pushed him for no reason. That's the kind of tone he had.
"There's NO WAY that's okay. What planet are you from?"
The guy was dressed nicely. A beige-coloured jacket over a button-up collared shirt with some nice looking dress pants. He pulled back his jacket, rested his hand over his hip and right below his hand, I could see the grip of a pistol lodged in his belt. "What did you say?"
I rolled my eyes. "I said I don't get paid enough to deal with this." He smiled and I backed away. What else was I going to do? I headed outside to call the police.

Outside, I saw Captain BO talked to that manager from before. I approached them and told them what happened.
The manager- "Just leave it."
Me- "What?"
Manager- "Forget about him and leave it. Don't call the police."
Captain BO- "I saw who you were talking to. That guy is a known gang banger around here."
Me- "A gang banger?" I'm not entirely sure what that word really means. I know Snoop Dogg used it a couple of times. I know what kind of videos I get if I type it into google. Otherwise, I had no real idea.
Manager- "It's the kind of gang member you don't want to cause trouble with. He knows who you are now and even if the police show, you'll lose."
Captain BO- "Don't call the police."
That's a dilemma. I'm not going to sit here and pretend like I'm the toughest thing around, totally unafraid of a ... whatever the fuck he is. I don't know how to disarm a guy with a gun and even if I did, it wouldn't have been worth the risk. I'm also not about to be singled out by thugs.
Just so you guys know, I don't live in a ghetto. I live in a pretty middle-class part of Canada. I had this naive belief that where I was was free of that kind of crap. But there I was, staring in shock at what faced me.
"Fine," I said. I chose the safe route and went back inside.

Not really knowing what I was doing there anymore, I went back to the stage and started texting on my phone. I notice the time. Two hours had passed. Okay, almost half way through the night!
As I'm standing there, not paying attention, some girl approaches me and asks if she can talk go to the DJ booth. I told her just like this, "I don't give a fuck what you do."
"Aren't you the bouncer?"
"Yea I am."
"And you don't care? What's your problem?" So I laid it all on her. I told her what happened. She got into it and I even pointed out the gangbanger to her.
"That guy hit some girl and showed me the gun he has. The guy who manages this event told me to do nothing. I'm not sure what I'm here for, so go knock yourself out at the DJ booth." We're yelling into each other's ears at this point. I don't think my hearing has ever recovered from that night.
She never did go to the DJ booth. She walked off somewhere and I went back to my texting.


TO BE CONTINUED

[Toadstool Senior Member Find all posts View Profile Close Toadstool]

Seconded. It was a great story only made better by the skill of the writer. Seriously, I read a LOT of stuff (college professor) and this was really nice. Engaging...not easy

Wow! Thanks. That really means a lot. What do you teach? Don't tell me you're a geologist named randy or nelson

[Steneo Senior MemberPEGym Hero Member of the Month Dec 2013 Find all posts View Profile Close Steneo]

Lol, no, I teach in a doctor of pharmacy program so it's not like I teach creative writing or something. Love the second story too

[BigO AdministratorPEGym Hero Find all posts View Profile Close BigO]

Great stories Toad!

I will be looking forward to the others...

[namsokiek Banned Find all posts View Profile Close namsokiek]

That's not something we can tolerate here at FancyPants, so I'm asking you to leave. Now, I'd really like to think you'll cooperate with me on this. You will, won't you?" It's my canned line. I grabbed it from a book called Verbal Judo that one of my supervisors lent to me. It has really come in handy for me.

Verbal Judo is absolutely right. The most difficult task is not getting someone to do what you want them to do; it is making them want to do something you want them to do.

Well done selecting the right words to get your point across without antagonizing the target. I too am in a job that is best served when I carefully craft my messages. You did an excellent job preventing the blow-up while getting the guy to go.

[camaro Senior Member Member of the month June 2013 Find all posts View Profile Close camaro]

Now this is some funny stuff.