Every nightclub has one.
Not merely an annoying customer. Aggravating customers are part of the job description. I’m talking about the biggest ass of the night—the guy who treated the staff like personal servants, snapped his fingers at them, grabbed at them, insulted them, or continued causing trouble after being told to knock it off.
Most customers merely need a warning and behaved.
This guy did not and received a house specialty.
Behind the bar, we had our own unofficial justice system. If one of the waitresses came back visibly upset and told us a customer wouldn’t leave her alone, the bartenders paid attention. Taking care of our own is a top priority. So, we watched this citizen and gave him an opportunity to correct his behavior.
He did not, and I made the call.
“Break out the soap.”
Soaping, for those of you unaware, is the process of spreading a thin layer of liquid bar soap around the rim of a glass before mixing a drink in it. It is very difficult to detect (especially after a few too many). It goes to work very quickly and most effectively.
There was no announcement. No committee meeting. No dramatic vote beneath a swinging lightbulb. One bartender simply reached into the cooler for a specially prepared glass. I keep one or two of these locked and loaded in the cooler for just these occasions.
The customer never suspected a thing.
He was delivered his drink, by the now smirking waitress, probably believing he had won whatever ridiculous battle he had started. He might even sneered at the waitress as if to remind her that he was the customer—and therefore always right.
He wasn’t.
Before long, his expression would change. The swagger disappeared. His eyes widened. Then came the sudden look of desperation and impromptu sprint toward the restroom.
Record time.
Back behind the bar, we reacted with a subtle smile. We kept pouring drinks, taking orders and pretending we hadn’t noticed a grown man moving through the club like his pants were on fire.
The waitress, however, had the biggest grin.
She would pass the service station, catch the bartender’s eye and smile.
Justice had been served—with liquid justice. Courtesy of Mr. Clean.
The trick eventually found its way into Pour Judgement Vol. 1. Sean describes “soaping” to the BG’s crew after dealing with a particularly filthy-mouthed customer. In the book, the doctored drink earns the unofficial name Skip, Run, and Go Naked—because once it took effect, skipping the check and running for the restroom and dropping your drawers were probably the victim’s only priorities.
Was it professional? Absolutely not.
Was it sanitary, safe or something anyone should recreate? Maybe, maybe not. This belongs firmly in the category of reckless nightclub history—not recommended modern bartending practice.
But in those days, the staff protected its own. If you repeatedly gave the waitresses trouble, you weren’t merely irritating one employee.
You were pissing off the entire bar.
And sometimes, the bar answered back.