What could be worse than a pub with no beer???

A pub with beer, that won't serve it! Before you go thinking that maybe I'd had a few too many and they were right to say no, hear me out.

Last night, after a hard hard day at the office, we decided it was time to let our hair down (maybe that's not the best way to put it considering I have the longest hair in the group, but you get the point) and head to the pub. Being a uni student and therefore no longer able to afford cab-fare, it was decided we would go to Kathleen's local and then walk back to her place and crash there. Good plan me thinks...

But no. Seriously, no longer than 15 seconds after we walk into the pub, which I must admit was a little seedy, there was a massive bang and all the lights went out. And I thought the place was seedy before! anyway, once calm was restored by the bored angry looking bargirl she goes and decides that she can't possibly serve anymore, because they can't use the till. There must have been a generator, because the beer was still pouring and there were some emergency lights on. BUT THE TILL! Life cannot happen without the till!! We offered to pay cash, but no go. We offered for them to keep the change, no go. We offered to drink the beer out of the fridge, so they didn't have to pour, no go. Should we have offered to go behind the bar and work the maths ourselves?

I don't think she wanted to be there, this bored looking angry bargirl. But you see she was. She was there and it was her job to serve beer. That's just the way life is. Now I am not suggesting that this is the most important thing that has ever happened to me, but there is a moral here. Somewhere.

You see I worked at Payless Shoes at Mt Ommaney for 4 years. 4. Over the summer break, I'd work as much as I could to get cash together. Summer + Brisbane + shoes = BAD smells. Bad, bad smells. We used to walk around with airfreshner in our pockets and spray the isles when no one was looking. Even Mountin Fresh is better that cheap nasty foot smells in Brisbane. Anyway, one day I quit my job. I'd had enough. The smell was too much. That night I went to the pub, (this one served beer) filled in a little form and won myself the most amazing couch ever! So what is the moral? Thank you for asking, I was just about to get to that. The point is, good things happen when you quit bad jobs.

To you - bored angry looking bargirl, I say quit! Be free. And if you are going to stay there, get a calculator - no pub should not serve beer.