Yesterday I had a fight with the owner of a local pub I have been frequenting for the last ten years. He bought the place nine years ago and soon after that started to make strange jokes: When I came in he would tell me that he would be glad if I left. When I’d leave he’d comment that I overstayed my welcome etc.
Being autistic I have a hard time judging whether somebody is making a joke or not. But most of the time he was a nice man who didn’t bother me. So I assumed that it was some kind of joke, an anoying joke but still a joke.
But a few months ago an other costumor reacted insulted after hearing this joke. She told him that see didn’t like him making this kinds of remarks to me. So it clearly wasn’t a joke.
The last few month I’ve been asking him to stop making this jokes. He didn’t. Yesterday I lost my temper. There were a few other costumers in the place who took my side. The owner told me that I was no longer welcome in his bar because I didn’t like his humor. To which one of the other costumers reacted by saying that he wouldn’t visit this place any more. This angered the owner even more and he told this costumer he wasn’t welcome either. Then he told me to leave and never come back because, as an owner, he had the right to insult and abuse his customers.
Explosion
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I’ve been thinking about why I go to this place. Twenty years ago I used to go to a pub called “de Paap” (an old Dutch word for monk). It was a nice pub with a lot of young customers with whom I didn’t have much contact but I liked watching them and listening to what they were saying. But sadly it went out of business after a few years.
“Borsolino” was my new favored watering hole. The crowed in this place was much older. I wasn’t really interested in the things they talked about but the character of the place was nice. A bit like a big living room. It radiated a kind of freedom.
Ten years ago, after working there for sixteen years the owner decided that she wanted to change her life and stopped with the business.
Which left me without a favored pub. After some searching I settled with “de Passage”.
I don’t like it there. I never have. I don’t like the owner very much. Some of the customers are nice people but I hardly see them. Most of the time the place is empty. (I never understood how he earned his money).
The owner is filthy. He drools. Not all the time and when he started out nine years ago it was much worse then it is now. But he still does it. Even in the kitchen while he is preparing diner for customers. (I don’t order diner if his cook isn’t present).
This cook is a nice fellow who has a nice dog he brings to the job ones in a while.
The trouble is that the only place where he can house this dog is in the scullery. Which means that the dog runs back and forth through the kitchen which isn’t allowed by Dutch law because of the hygiene.
I think I’m going to call the health and savety expector next monday. Let’s see what he thinks of my jokes.
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