Ah, the fun times of working in a pub leading up to Christmas. I have to work all weekend (32 hours in 3 days) and serve people who are rude, patronising, egocentric twats.
It might be "your Christmas day" but that does not mean that I can pull crackers out of my arse, perhaps next time you should ring up beforehand to let us know your requirements or bring your own.
Yes, I know more than three of you ordered the turkey, but I haven't mastered balancing plates on my head just yet so you'll have to wait for me to go back to get the rest.
No, I cannot take a drinks order right now, unfortunately those people over there want their food; which I happen to be carrying; before it goes cold.
Soup? Who ordered the soup? Who the fuck is David?
We're closed, yes that does mean I can't get you any drinks. Not even a small one.
I'm so sorry you had to wait 10 minutes for your coffee. I did only have to make 20 all at them same time. I'm surprised they haven't sacked me.
Merry fucking Christmas to you too.
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