Photo courtesy of BushwickBK.
I’m not usually much of a whiner when it comes to bad service (mostly because during my stint at the Oakhurst pub, I might have rivaled the worst), but last night at The Morgan, damn.
I dug the $5 pints, draught selection and overall vibe, for sure. But the sour-faced bartender left something to be desired. When Tex and I came by for a round last night, she immediately asked us to scoot down a stool for no apparent reason. She then went on to ignore us for the rest of the night with intermittent scowling and breaks to shoot scotch with the other patrons—to whom she consistently presented with a coy, slack grin and a cheery tone. Bitch.
I can’t bring myself to not tip or even worse—leave coins—and I know I’ll be back to The Morgan because it is so close to my apartment, but I guarantee I’ll voluntarily sidle down the bar to a different whiskey wench should Grumplestein be on patrol again.
And today was the day I joined Yelp…