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Open letter to dudes at work: STAHP TOUCHING MEEEE

Dear regulars, musicians, and all other scrubs who come up into my bar:

Imma need you to back the fuck up off me. I know we're friendly, I know I give you alcohol and laugh at your stupid jokes but for the record THIS IS PART OF MY JOB. You know what is not part of my job? Having people I barely know touch me on the small of my back or grab at me in greeting. Do I come into your place of work and put my hands on you? No. No I do not.


No offence, but I normally wouldn't give you the time of day because:

(a)i'm painfully shy in real life, and

(b)mama told me not to talk to strangers and y'all are mad strange

If I'm busy, if there are other customers (who actually pay money for shit!), if I look like i'm in a bad mood I really don't need you coming up to me offering to "make it better." I don't know you, you don't know me, you're really just trying to make your day better. Which is fine, that's what you're here for, but don't go creepin' all up on me making my day worse.


This goes double for those of you who are married, in a relationship, or old enough to be my father. You should all know better than to do that shit, I will remind you of your significant other every chance I get, and I will not feel the least bit bad talking about you behind your back to my coworkers.

Enclosed are a bunch of gifs, as words alone cannot adequately explain how fucking annoying it is when you do this.


No Love,


P.S. And for the love of the Queen Mother of Heaven, please do not comment on my ethnicity as if I were a fine wine or some shit. This is a whole other rant in itself, but repeating "that's a fine mix." Or "That's an exotic mix." and then blatantly ogling my jiggly bits is NEITHER FLATTERING NOR APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR AND WILL NOT EARN YOU MY NUMBER.

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