Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Stabby Time

On Monday nights, at Tootsy's, I'm the Door Wench. I sit at the front door of the club, check ID's, and handle cash. Make change, charge admission (only for the under 21 crowd, Mondays are free otherwise), and take the bar fees from the dancers. Simple shit, despite some drama from time to time.

Primary objective? Make sure the 18 - 20 year olds pay, get arm bands, and have heir hands marked. Also, chase away the under 18 jackasses. Fine. Not a hard thing to do overall.

WELL!

Tonight a kid came in with a Florida ID that had him at being 22. Yeah, he had a baby face, but that happens. Hell, most folks think I'm in my early 20s. Fine. Looked fine, had the hologram, the secondary photo, etc. Kid gets in. Cool. He asks what the drink specials are. Rather common question from the 21+ folks. Not very common for the underagers. They're usually "HUR HUR BEER".

Later on, while my manager was standing next to me chatting, another kid comes into the foyer. He looks at the sign that says UNDER 21: $20 and asks if we take Visa. I only have an older cash register so I tell him to hit up the ATM at the 7-11 next door. He leaves. Ok, that's nothing weird.

Soon after, 2 Sheriffs come in. That is also normal. They all know us and we're all pals so they're often in to say sup and to snag a freebie bottle of water.

Well no, the one officer shows me an obvious Florida Under 21 ID. Guess what? Same kid's picture on it from earlier. Yeah, the 22 year old. She asks me if he was there, she and her partner come inside, I explain the other ID, they drag his visibly scared ass out into the foyer.

Turns out, the 2nd kid who was going to the ATM at 7-11? The cops busted him for being all shady. They went to the kid's car and found the OTHER kid's actual ID. Which puts his age at 17. 2nd kid rats out 1st kid, cops come to get 1st kid. Said kid was hiding the fake ID in his shoe.

Well a bunch of drama ensues, the cops haul them both out, then come in and demand to see my ID. Eff. They take lots of notes, ask a fuckton of questions, then go to the office in the back of the club with my boss.

By then I am 8 kinds of stressed out. I'm shaking like a shaved Chihuahua in a walk in meat locker. Everyone and their mama are coming up and asking me 80 berjillion questions. Half of them are telling me that I'm probably going to jail since I let him in.

Well obviously I'm not in jail, but with the way my luck has been over the last 3 years, and my horrible need to be perfect, I am A) worried that the police will change their minds and arrest me, and B) I am beating myself up for making a mistake.

Granted, the fake ID was holy shit perfect, except the info that only shows up under black light was missing. No one at the bar even knew they started doing that! So now we're gonna get a lil black light for the front desk.

I'm okish now, but still mad at that kid and myself. He could have gotten me arrested that little douche. I am by no means an age-ist but I seriously want to set him on fire right now.

I have a date with a bottle of Hpnotiq in a few minutes, because my nerves are shot.

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