The Emerald Rose

Ok I’m 63, physically that is, not mentally. That’s the only thing I can think of to explain what I’m about to tell you,(sigh), well here goes.
Like most of you already know I “pop in” for a pint or two of Guinness each evening at my Pub, Buster’s World Famous Oyster Bar and Grill. (Never seen a grill in the whole place, the kitchen crew’s motto is “If it can’t be fried, trash it!”). Now I am a very, very tolerant man, well 99.9999% of the time. I can put up with drunken sots (usually house painters, they start drinking on the way to work at 7am, I’ve seen them in the local 7-11’s at that time buying a 12 pak to take to work!), snotty ass tourists, …”Euwww do we have to eat here it smells all fishy, and those little oysters look absolutely vile, and they serve them on one of those plastic lunch trays, Yuk! I doubt they’ve ever even washed them!”, the totally obnoxious “time-share” sales crew,…”so I says to this broad, lookjust write me the check and I’ll hold it until you get home and be sure you’ve got the money.”,…”So what’d she say?”, “She wrote it.”,..so how long you have to hold it?”,…”Shit it was in the bank deposit ten minutes later. If she doesn’t know what she’s got in the bank that’s her problem, she never should have written the check, ya’ know? I get credit for it on this weeks commissions, ” (rounds of guffaws and another round of Tequila shooters). And all the other typical pub annoyances. BUT I lost it yesterday. I’ve tried on a couple of occasions to handle this thing diplomatically over the past few weeks,…but I snapped yesterday!
There’s this one waiter, for lack of a better name we’ll call him “Bongo”. He’s late 30’s early forties, has one of those higher than a kite one minute, in the pits the next minute personalities, loves baseball, hockey, basketball, etc. A primary classic example of the “Peter Pan Syndrome”, very educated, College Degree, but just flat ass won’t grow up, but I can live with all that. His way of getting trough the day is “tunes”, you know Metallica, Korn, those kind of tunes, and he like to blast them, ON THE MUSAC SYSTEM IN THE RESTAURANT. I’ve made funny comments, talked to the GM’s, all three of them, talked to his girl friend, who is also a GM there, even mentioned it in passing to the owner and it sometimes gets turned down in volume. But yesterday as I was just sitting there sipping my beer he comes bounding across the floor, leaps up on a chair, one foot on the seat, one on the top of the backrest, reaches up like he’s going to snare a fly ball off the wall at Fenway Park, and whips the volume control knob on the system to “12”, (and I thought “10” was as high as it would go) jumps down and skips off into the kitchen singing along with the head-banging shit coming out of the speakers!
Now because I’m a long standing regular, ten years now, I get to have the TV controller, (Just like at home,…it’s a guy thing ladies, you know that!) and I like to catch the 5pm Headline news for 30 minutes, read any lingering e-mails from the B’berry, check the weather, and R-E-L-A-X !! Is that too much to ask for? Well that’s when I lost it.
I called the Bar tenderess, Peggy, over and plead my case to her. “Peggy, it’s a family restaurant, look around, you got the grandparents taking thier children and their grandchildren out to dinner together while they are on vacation. GRANDPARENTS DON’T DO HEADBANGING!! “Well it might be a bit loud” she replies. I grovel and try logic next, “Peggy, look, see how everyone here having dinner are all leaned over the table trying to hear the person across from them talking. She how theyare not even chewing or eating, but trying to see what the other person is saying? That should be a tip off that the background music is OUT OF CONTROL!” I then moved in for the pity factor, the “kill shot”,…”Look Peggy, I know you aren’t in charge of the music here, and it won’t effect your tip, and I even am willing to admit I may be a bit of an old fart, but is the SOMEONE you can talkto about this sound level? I don’t want to offend “Bongo”, and I understand it motivates him and keeps him “flying”, but can we look at this and get it adjusted, maybe lower volume, no heavy metal, Beatles, Elton John, you know. I’m not asking for Yanni, but please!”
“Well I’ll see if I can do something” (That’s Peggyspeak for I’m going to go away now, I’m sorry.) Three paces down behind the bar and another ticket pops out of the printer and she’s off to make another frozen margarita, the fleetin though tof talking to some one gone, vaporized, ether layer…..
So I used “The FORCE”, I took the TV Remote, held the “Volume UP” button down and watched the little yellow line run all the way across the TV screen and the volume got louder and louder, then I wnet for the “coup de gras” I flipped the Channel to Kramer, the Stock Market Whacko and his usual “mega-rant” on selling short and bad management of losers on the Market today. So what happened ,……absolutely nothing! Everyone just kept going.
People at the tables eating just talked louder, waitresses and waiters just yelled out the specials to the people at the tables, folks at the bar just leanded over closer to whom ever they were talking to and spoke louder, and “Bongo” did another flying leap on the chair thing and twisted that damn volume control to “14” and kept going!
I put my hands up to my head in utter disbelief and dispair, felt the blood dripping out of both ears, and, …..well I guess it’s time to go home anyway, but I’m gonna stop on the way and get a Yanni CD for the ride!
I’ll go back today, but there will be changes, I’m going to spend the extra for a second pint and pour it over the black box with the volume control knob for the background music level. There will be silence,…YEA!
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