Friday, March 26, 2010

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs....

Do you ever notice all the warning signs we have, because of dumasses? They had to even go and make universal blue picture signs so that even the biggest dumbass can understand. The restroom signs... with a woman with a skirt and the freakishly straight and skinny guy in pants. The blue wheelchair sign in front of the parking space you so desperately want. The red and white no parking signs, the white and black suggested speed limit sign. Let's not even go into the yellow and black signs.

So walk to my bar and I have signs that are required by law, and that must be in a certain font and size, and must be readable from outside the premises by so many feet away. Inside, I have to post a sign that says you shouldn't drink while pregnant or your kid maybe the next gold medalist in the special olympics. The sales tax sign that says (in exatly 1 and 1/2 inches in Times New Roman) that the drink prices include sales tax, which must be placed in an obvious area near the register. By law I also have to post my liquor license, my license that allows you to sing publicly, my license that allows you to dance, my food license, my cigarette license, my business license, the sign that says the door must remain unlocked during business hours, the fire extinguisher signs, the lighted exit signs, and the signs in the bathrooms that tell my employees to wash their hands after wiping their ass. You really need a sign for that?

Then there are the signs that I am encouraged to put up by the authorities or insurance companies. Wet floor, Don't Drink and Drive, the Alcohol Consumption Chart, the Tripping Hazard Sign, the no loitering sign, the tow away sign. Then there is the advertisments which sell every type of beer or liquor you can imagine. It's fucking crazy.

No wonder I am a stress case. So I was having one of those days that if you even tried to talk to me about some stupid ass shit, I would rip your fucking head off. So I'm just trying to sit in my corner and relax for a little while. Maybe get a chance to talk to the few people who don't make me want to shove ice picks in my ears. I get about and hour of non-aggravation in, when I see mr preppy who just walked in, take a big old punch across the bar at my bartender. I'm already out of my seat before my bartender could call for me. I get face to face with the guy and realize he's about 6'4" and 260. A physically fit stud. I am so fucking glad that he is so fucking drunk that I am amazed that he can stand upright.

I think I actually scared him because he never met someone bigger than him. Thank God he didn't realize my fat ass can't fight, although, I am damn good at grabbing and holding on for dear life! The buddy he is with, has obviously done this before because he is extremely adept at talking him out the door. It clearly wasn't his first rodeo.

So it was kind of cool that when I returned, my bartender still had his ID and credit card, when I noticed the 8"X11" sign that is in Size 24, Ariel Font, located within 3' from the main entryway and 48 inches above the floor, in highly contrasting black and white, that said that:

"By entering this establishment, you agree to the following automatic charges to your credit card. $100 for attempting to punch an employee, or $500 for making contact."

It may not standup, but I'm going to have fun with it...

No comments:

Post a Comment