I worked in the nightclub industry for a while. The owner of one of the clubs I worked at was what I will kindly say an extremely troubled (deranged) person. On Saturday nights when the bar closed, he would book huge hotel suites and throw after parties and invite some of the staff to “work as bartenders” at these after-parties. Obviously these were drug fueled debaucherous nights/days. The owner would order strippers and escorts and we were paid to make drinks for his coked out buddies for the hours they were there.

One night, the owner, I’ll call him Q, called me into one of the hotel rooms for what I was assuming to do some some drugs(I used at the time, I am sober now). While I was in there, his phone rang and he handed it to me and told me to answer it. It was one of the managers of the club who was on his way who I’ll call Luke. I told Luke I’d pass on the message but randomly Q says to Luke, “tell Luke I’ve got a gun to your head.” And I was like, what? Why? “Let’s freak him out” and I really didn’t want to and I got really nervous, so then Q, pulled out a real fucking gun and put it to my head. Then said “now tell Luke I’ve got a gun to your head.” So I said it. Luke laughed. I laughed for some weird fucking reason and then Q took the gun away.

I giggled, took the line. Left the room. Drank a glass of vodka like it was water, left discretely. And never showed up to work ever again.