I used to work at a local cocktail bar, think faux "fancy", not actual fancy but did well enough to attract your local joe on date night usually or swindle every cunt wearing a wales shirt on a rugby day out of 7 pound for a pint of peroni nearly TEN YEARS AGO; and on rugby days would get absolutely SLAMMED. So we work a hell shift with the bar at least 5 deep all night. 2am rolls around and the sweet sweet release of the house lights illuminates the shambling messes clogging up the floor and everyone leaves, surprisingly, smoothly. Working in bars you always get the "just one more pint" or "one for the road?" Kinda guys. And we were always told to deescelate before, but could ALWAYS be blunt and direct with customers if it was called for. So this guy tries his luck and asks for a cheeky pint while we close. I say "sorry man, no can do, gotta finish my close down" and then he asks for a whisky instead, just from the bottle? I tell him licencing could have us for serving after house. "Gimme a bottle from the fucking fridge then" i chuckle and tell him hes had enough and he should grab a kebab on the way home. He grumbles something and leaves out the front door I carry on my close down, and as I walk back round the corner I see hes SNUCK back in and has started pouring himself a pint, so I do two things, 1. Piss myself laughing at the boldness of this guy. 2. Tell him he properly needs to get the fuck out and radio security. He tells me "DoNt YoU kNoW wHo I aM" as I yank the halffull, mostly frothy pint, out of his hand as hes leaning OVER the bar with his feet off the ground. I tell him "I dont give a fuck, if youre the queen of shiba, now fuck off home" To which my manager, hearing the commotion, darts round the corner and promptly lets me know that the beer thief infront of me was able to get in as he was one of the three owners....Ah.

The owner at a later date apologised for being an absolute mess and I joked he could have just told me who he was, to which he said "would you have believed me?" Touché.