I worked a 11am- 6pm shift at a titty bar. Mondays and Tuesdays... talk about one pathetic fucking atmosphere.
Like this used car salesman who called himself "The Captain". He was 70 years old, married (of course), about 6'5", and reeked of heavy aftershave. He'd get waaay to close to your face when he talked to you, and he'd spend most of the day there after getting anywhere from $50 - $100 changed out into $1 bills. And he wore a navy captain's hat. Fucking creeped me out, man.
Or redneck concrete workers who'd come in on rainy days and get fucked up while their wives thought they were working. They were always fun to deal with. Try getting a group of drunk rednecks to keep their hands off the girls, while the girl is doing everything she can to tease them into more tips and you're 19 and the only bouncer in the place.
Yep, it sucked pretty motherfucking horrendously.