While this can be more boring than reading the Yellow Pages while sat in a snail enclosure at the zoo, your brain thinks, brilliant, I will get away on time and be tucked up in bed before midnight.
Enter customer. What do you mean you want a drink? I’ve cleaned the stinking drip trays, put all the clean, cooled glasses away, emptied the godforsaken ice bucket and wiped down all grimy tables and the sticky bar.
How dare you come in at this time of night and have the audacity to order a drink?
What kind of crazed animal even goes out at 10.30pm on a weeknight? Haven’t you got a home/job/family?
Who would have 'em?
Then they leave said glasses on the squeaky clean bar when they eventually leave, meaning you get home no earlier than if the place was packed to the rafters.
Customers… who would have ’em?