Maurice’s

Jukebox was broken, bartender was extremely rude and refused to take debit cards because she «didn’t want to.» She also wouldn’t turn on the air conditioning. Their’s a reason you’ve never been here– it’s the worst bar in Shreveport.

This would have been a great little hole in the wall place if it weren’t for one thing… The horrible service provided by the most ornery bartender I’ve ever met in my life. I went on a slow weeknight with a group of about 7 – 8 friends. Upon walking through the front door, we were greeted with a scowl from the old lady behind the bar, who was the only person working, and who I was told was the owner. Besides giving slow service and not answering questions, she also refused to give a glass of water alongside a drink demanding that everyone buy her $ 4 bottled water if they wanted some (even though the liquor laws here require free water to be provided to any patron that requests it). She also refused to give an itemized receipt at the end of the night. Several of us were drinking on one tab, and at the end if the night she produced only a credit card slip with nothing but a total amount on it… An amount which was questionable. When asked for a detailed receipt, she replied that she didn’t do that, then added «and don’t give me any shit.» and walked away. Another friend was told that his credit card was refused, though the slip that printed out of the machine indicated that she had cancelled the transaction before it went through. She demanded that he pay cash and threatened to hold is card hostage until he did. He borrowed cash from a friend and when he brought her the amount she had previously quoted him, she tried to say that it wasn’t enough now. I guess she was expecting a tip. She took his cash, then still swiped his credit card before returning it. I worked in the service industry for 10 years and this was hands down the worst service I have ever seen. She wasn’t just bad or incompetent… She was purposefully rude and vindictive.

When you step into Maurice’s, don’t be shocked that you’re the only person there – when I went, there were only six other people in the bar, and four of them were with me – the fact that it’s quiet and uncrowded is its chief asset. The bar itself is an old A-​frame building, and the décor is what I would call Haunted Ski Lodge. There is an enormous Patrick Nagle print on the wall, and the jukebox is one of those old, flip-​page ones, with CDs, the most recent album being Sting’s «Brand New Day», which came out in 1999. The bartender is an tough old bird who will harass you to order a drink, which will be overpriced. I paid seven dollars for an inch of well bourbon and a splash of grocery store soda, an insult that leads me to believe that I will not be darkening this establishment’s doors again anytime soon. But if I were a bottom feeding drunk with money to burn (one day please, O Lord, grant me this wish), I’m sure I’d find myself more days than most sallying up to the bar and doing my utmost to wash myself into oblivion while Steely Dan’s «Babylon Sisters» leaks out of the speakers like slow death.