The Life of a Southern Girl

'cause I want to go there & start pushing people in front of busses.

Tonight:
Interaction #25 with Customer #37(The guy with the freaky bowtie on his 5th Manhattan) after he had called me "Leslie" for the 87,000th time:

Poor Scarlett(laughingly): "Sir, my name is not Leslie. It's Scarlett. I know this because the nametag pinned to my right breast says so."

A*hole: "I remember you from when I was here before! You're that little girl from South Carolina!"

Poor Scarlett: "Yes, I am."

A*hole(slurring): "So then what does it matter what I call you?"

At this point, there is a collective groan from everyone within earshot. Everyone understands that he has broken a major rule. (I eventually will make a list.) "Never insult your bartender." Breaking this rule makes the drink in front of you your last one for the evening. Which is what it was for this dimwit.

BUT, I came home & there were flowers by my door. No card, but that's OK. Someone I know thought about me today & wanted to do something nice for me. Whoever you are; you rock! (Unless you're some freaky guy that conned his way pass the Security gate at my complex & actually knew my apt. #. If that's the case, you DO NOT rock, & I hope I have the opportunity to push you in front of a bus.)

Godspeed, all:)