“Oi, I want a drink,” is something heard regularly, particularly when the shift has been tear-inducing already.
Almost on the brink of a breakdown, you wonder if said customer would speak to his mother with that mouth, but you dutifully smile before slipping off to the toilet.
Just a couple of minutes to clear the beer stains off your top and wipe the sticky Sambuca from your shoes before it’s back to the front line, all the while hanging on to the prospect of your bed and rest for your throbbing feet, pounding head and weary bones to get you through the rest of the evening.