Lou's Official Complaint That the Bar Just Charged You for the Bartender's Dog

Lou's Official Complaint That the Bar Just Charged You for the Bartender's Dog

I have the receipt. I am looking at it right now. I have been looking at it for four days because I cannot move on and I will not be told to move on. There is a line item on this receipt that says "Rufus" and the amount next to it is four dollars and fifty cents. Rufus is the bartender's golden retriever. Rufus was behind the bar. I did not order Rufus. Nobody at this table ordered Rufus. Rufus is not a cocktail ingredient, was not requested as a side, and did not enhance the evening in any quantifiable way. I am being charged for a dog I did not consume.

This is what going to the bar has become. This is where we are. You sit down, you order thc canned cocktails or a beer or a glass of water, and by the time the check arrives you have also paid for the dog, the bartender's parking spot, an "ambiance surcharge," and something listed as "ice service" which is just ice, which is weather, which falls from the sky for free. I have looked it up. Weather is free. I am not subsidizing anybody's refrigeration.

A Full Accounting of What I Did Not Order But Was Charged For

Let me be precise. I am not a man who exaggerates. I sold pipe for thirty years. I deal in measurements. Here is what was on the tab, and here is my official ruling on each item:

• "Table reservation fee", I walked in and sat down. The table was empty. I reserved nothing. This is a theft.
• "Artisanal ice", You froze water in a cube. The cube is not artisanal. It is a cube. Cubes are not art.
• "Seasonal garnish", It was a lemon wedge. Lemons are not seasonal. They exist year-round. I looked it up.
• "Rufus", Addressed above. Still furious. Moving on.
• "Mixologist consultation", I said "I'll have a whiskey and bitters." That is not a consultation. That is an order. He did not consult me back. He just made the drink wrong.

Five items. None of them mine. All of them on my bill. And the bartender, when I raised my hand to discuss it, pointed at a small sign behind the register that said "We are a hospitality experience." You are a bar. You have stools and a mirror and a liquor license. That is not an experience, that is a room.

The Dog in Particular

I want to stay on Rufus for a moment because I think people are moving past this too quickly.

The dog was back there the whole time. He was lying on a folded blanket next to the speed rail, which is already a health code question for a separate day. He did not perform a service. He did not bring my drink. He did not even look at me with any particular warmth. He looked at me the way the Mets bullpen looks at a two-run lead: like it was already over and he was fine with that.

At no point did I agree to financially support Rufus. There was no menu item that said "optional dog contribution." There was no disclosure. There was no opt-in. I simply existed in the same room as the dog for forty minutes, and when I went to leave, they had added him to my bill like a tip that nobody asked about and everybody expected.

Four dollars and fifty cents. For a dog I did not want. In a bar I was already overpaying to be in.

What I Do Now, Since Nobody Else Will Say It

I drink our stuff. Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned, eight milligrams of THC, zero milligrams of golden retriever, zero mystery surcharges, zero "mixologist consultation fees." I crack the can, I drink the drink, and nobody hands me a receipt with a dog on it. That is the baseline. That should be the baseline everywhere. It is not, which is why I am still talking.

The thc canned cocktails we make at Herb and Lou's cost what they say they cost. The can lists the price. The can does not add items. The can does not have a dog. If you want to try the whole lineup without committing to one specific old man's grievance, the Variety Pack is sitting right there and it contains all four of us. No Rufus. No ambiance fee. No seasonal lemon.

Or if you want to start with the espresso martini because Mary will not stop telling people to start with the espresso martini, Mary's M Train Espresso Martini is eight milligrams and she is not wrong, even if she is never going to let me say that out loud without making a whole thing of it.

The Larger Point, Which I Am Also Right About

Every extra charge at a bar is a small decision made by someone who decided you would not look closely enough at the total. The garnish fee. The service fee. The "experience" fee. The dog. They are betting that social pressure and the general awkwardness of arguing about money at the end of a meal will keep you quiet. They are usually right. Most people pay it and walk out.

I did not pay it. I disputed it in the parking lot for eleven minutes on speakerphone with Herb, who agreed with me but kept saying "Lou, just let it go," which is exactly what someone says when they also think you are right but they are tired. I am never tired. I am vigilant. The thc canned cocktails in my fridge right now do not require vigilance. They require a can opener and a clean glass. That is all I am asking of the world at this point.

Rufus, if you are reading this, I have nothing against you personally. You are a dog and you did not set the pricing. But your owner has some explaining to do, and I have time.

Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned is in the fridge right now if you want to have this conversation properly.

For adults 21 and older only. Hemp-derived THC. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Please check your local and state laws before ordering.