Another Meh Celebrity Sighting
That time a “celebrity” made me pay his tab
I’m not going to lie, I do love to see celebrities out and about in Las Vegas, conducting, and believe it or not, it happens quite often. I’ve seen Golden Knights players at the Costco and suspiciously seen Carrot Top at at least five different pubs (I think he’s stalking me), and then there was the elusive mis-sighting of Nicholas Cage at my own tavern. However, there’s nothing I love more than when celebrities are at their worst and this absolutely happens the most in Vegas. Why? Because it’s Vegas, baby (insert eye roll here).
Since my turn of bad luck this year, you know I’m back in the city and doing the thing I loathe the most - customer service. Yesterday was the first day in over 90 days that the temp was below 100° so we celebrated by opening our patio up. And in a place like Vegas, if you can be outside. you are outside. We take advantage of every single moment we can possibly get, and yesterday was no exception. My bar was full and I was cranking out specialty cocktails like a mother fucker when a familiar face plopped down at my bar top and smiled. Familiar in features but unknown to me, I smiled back and got him a drink. It wasn’t until one of the servers mentioned his name to me, a B-list actor from the early 2000’s. He asked a couple questions about keno and other games before committing to a spot and dropping a $20 (we have gaming here and thus have the ability to comp a limited amount of beverages depending on the gamer’s play). He then popped over to another spot and played another $20, having a few more drinks and spending most of his afternoon on the phone.
Towards the end of my shift, said celebrity inquired about his tab ($16 after I comped off his first cocktail) and informed me he’d lost his wallet, ID, cards, everything, and wanted to see how he would proceed since we don’t do tap pay. He pushes his last remaining $20 bill up onto the edge of the bartop and says “That’s for you”. In case you don’t know, that’s the standard way to present a tip. Indicating that something is “for you” means it is yours to keep for your time and trouble, a gratuity for the service you have provided. A little while longer and a few more drinks deep, he asks if it would be too forward to CashApp me so I could pay for his tab. Against my better judgement but still new here, I agree. We begin our shift change and he’s still on the phone talking furiously like the very important guy that he is. Eventually I pull some money out of my bucket, a till of cash I worked eight straight hours on my feet for, no bathroom or food breaks, collecting $1’s and $5’s all day long, and paid this stranger’s bill. I approach him after everything is said and done, my pocket 34 bucks lighter, and broach the subject of repayment and he produces a crisp hundred. Perfect!
Ah ah ah, not so fast. Now why in the world would a person who has money (guest) ask a person who doesn’t have money (employee) to do them a solid and then simply repay them for their service? Well, certainly not here in Las Vegas where everyone who isn’t from here thinks shit is free and our time is theirs to waste. So before Mr. Celebrity gives me back my hard earned money that he’s already imbibed, he seeks clarification. First, he brings up the $20 that he gave me in a tone that clearly means I was meant to do more with it than pay my mortgage or feed myself, perhaps use it to “lose” some of his drinks. I then make the mistake of making direct change, a hundred dollar bill for a series of broken bills, 20’s, 10’s and 5’s (you know, in case he wanted to pay me back the exact amount he owed me). Now with a hand full of small bills, he brings up the $20 for a third time. He inquires what his tab was, $34 as I’ve repeated a multitude of times. He asks if any of his drinks were comped for his play (a total of $40 over several hours) and then hands me another twenty and asks if we’re good.
If you have to ask me if we’re good, you fucking know we aren’t.
Annoyed, tired, and so over this whole fucking day, I said yes and tried to exit stage righr. He moves in for a one armed hug and tells me I’m the best. Yeah, and you can shove that waste of my time up your ass and keep your five, I though but kept to myself.
As I’m leaving, a hoard of teenage servers (21 but what’s the difference) run over to him, encircling him with batting lashes and starstruck awe, and I realize in a bar full of strangers, with no locals, no regulars, this dipshit has somehow turned his five minutes of fame into an opportuntiy to be fawned over by a staff full of dipshits that weren’t even born yet when his star peaked. So I took my five bucks, bought a Modelo tallboy, and spent the afernoon googling his movie history and thinking about that one time Nick Cage actually left me $10.