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Businiess name:
230 Fifth Rooftop Bar
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Review by:
citysearch c.
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Review content:
My friend and I walked into an entry where two sleazy clerks greet you and point to a creepy elevator at the back of the building, but not before trying to molest you with their eyes. Once you reach the top floor, the first impression is weird – as everyone is wrapped in red blankets and you mistake the place as being Bingo night at Nanas with the dreary atmosphere. The trees are all high so you can barely see any of the NYC skylines, it’s dark and everyone sucks. As the owner, I would be appalled at the quality of service demonstrated by one of your staff members to both my friend and I. Not only was she rude, she was ridiculously dressed like an Inuit in the Arctic so you could barely see her ugly face that was hidden beneath the dead racoon lying across her forehead. Here’s what happened: “Hi, my friend and I were wondering how we get bar service at this place – do we sit, or can you serve us?” After a long pause…. she made no eye contact and said in a bitchy tone “Um, why don’t you like stand in front of me when you’re talking – instead of off to the side…” to which we should have replied “Why don’t you turn your silly head sideways as we don’t want to get in the way of the cash register that you’re standing next to – hence why we are standing here.” But instead we both looked dumbfounded and said nothing… She then pointed to a dark, creepy, cold section of the rooftop where no one was sitting and said “sit over there and order from the bar.” We walked away surprised… Of the thousands of people we have both encountered in our lives, never has someone been so terrible with communication. We decided to neck our beers and see if the atmosphere inside was better. Once downstairs, we sat on some old pot-smokers couches and threw back a couple of stale Heinekens which were overpriced. The music was dull and the air smelt like my grandmas, it was mothy as. Thankfully the bar service inside was a little better. The girl outside was an embarrassment to Americans, because now every time someone asks me whether Americans are rude, I will say No, except for the pissed off girl who never made it anywhere in life on top of 230 on 5th Avenue in NYC.
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