And the horse they rode in on

A sordid tale entitled: 'Any dipshit know-nothing can open a pub and turn me into a complete misanthropic cynic in less than six weeks.'

I left the Marly to be cellarman at The Clarendon, to learn more about how a pub works. But luckily for me, yesterday I was able to quit in disgust.

Funkyman got fired on Sunday, yet he was the one manager of three doing his job properly. His mistake was to not get along with the Consultant who'd been hired by the dipshit know-nothing owners, so the Consultant wrote in his final report that Funkyman should get the flick without, y'know, talking about it at all. What a petty and unprofessional fucker! Especially as it's almost impossible not to get along with Funkyman and respect him. The licensee complied, so I went in on Monday and did all the ordering; covered a break; stocked the cellar and then quit.
Fuck those guys.

This was after the licensee had spent a while earlier expressing his understanding that I'd be upset by the sacking of my housemate and friend, and telling me that everyone thought I was doing a really good job (again, from the report of the consultant). Indeed the owners gave me a 'pat on the back', but not in person, of course, because that would be vaguely human and responsible.
The funny thing is that the points I clashed with the consultant over (ie when he was breaking the law) were also points over which Funkyman clashed with him. Funkyman worked nights, and me days, so he also had to deal with said consultant drunk; telling Funkyman how to do his job; and abusing the 'promo' free food privileges.

The whole six week adventure has been an awesome learning experience. It's funny how the owners know absolutely nothing about running a pub, and the consultant who they hired to set it up knows absolutely nothing about pubs.

I haven't seen Funkyman so happy since he moved into the front room.
Score one for the good guys.
Actually two: Funkyman is happy and got a new job instantly. He got job offers within four hours and got a job the next day without even being interviewed.
I'm taking about a month off waiting for The Bank to open again.

The perfect beauty of working at the Bank is that it has been renovated specifically to destroy the Marly.
Now, the Egans (owners of the Clarendon) may be a bunch of know-nothing fucksticks, but at least they're not a bunch of know-nothing fuckstick cunts like JJ O'Brien (Owners of the Marly).

As Lord Mattress Hammer pointed out "The hospitality industry is the only industry you can spend the rest of your career getting revenge on the people who originally hired you."