Uncle Jessie's Honkytonk — Restaurant in Raleigh

Let me start by saying this: I’m not easily shaken. I’ve eaten gas station sushi. I’ve sat through a family reunion with no alcohol. I once watched all 3 hours of Cats (2019). But nothing — and I mean nothing — could have prepared me for the emotional collapse that is being served by Michelle at Uncle Jessie’s. This wasn’t a night out. It was a trauma simulator.

Michelle is not a bartender. She is a walking HR complaint in human form, a cocktail terrorist with the social skills of a malfunctioning vending machine. From the moment I walked in, I could feel the air change. It was like walking into a DMV that serves alcohol and resentment.

I approached the bar, smiling, optimistic. Michelle greeted me with the energy of someone being served jury duty in the middle of a nap. Her eyes screamed, "I hate this, I hate you, and I wish this bar would sink into the Earth." She looked at me like I was a pop quiz on a Friday.

I ordered a margarita. Michelle blinked once — just once — like her brain had to reboot. What she handed me was neither margarita, nor drink, nor legally consumable substance. It was salt water with a lime slice that looked like it was rescued from a compost bin. If my taste buds could file a restraining order, they would have done so before the second sip.

Let’s talk about her technique. Michelle makes drinks like she’s casting a curse. She slams bottles around like she’s trying to summon a demon, and when she shakes the mixer, it sounds like someone trying to start a lawnmower in the rain. The result is a beverage that tastes like regret, rage, and possibly transmission fluid.

The second drink — gin and tonic. Easy. Foolproof. Unless, of course, you’re Michelle. The glass was chipped, the lime was fossilized, and the gin tasted like something you’d siphon out of an abandoned go-kart. I asked for a replacement. Michelle looked at me like I had just told her she had to go back to high school.

I once saw a guy ask for a simple beer. Michelle opened it upside down. Not by accident. Like, intentionally. It exploded all over the counter and her solution was to laugh, hand it to him soaked in foam, and walk away like she just filed her taxes. Even the bar flies looked stunned.

Michelle is the only bartender I’ve seen who moves slower as the night gets busier. It’s like she’s powered by reverse adrenaline. She disappears when people need her most, like some kind of alcohol-dispensing Batman — except instead of justice, she brings apathy and room-temperature shots.

She once wiped the bar down with what I am 95% sure was a sock. The bar was stickier after she cleaned it. The rag smelled like it had survived the Great Depression and three kitchen fires. She dropped a lemon wedge on the floor, made direct eye contact with God and the entire bar, and threw it in someone’s mojito anyway. That customer is probably still in therapy.

The vibe? Nonexistent. Michelle is like a human mood suppressant. Even the jukebox was trying to shut itself off. The lights were flickering like they were trying to tap out. A guy next to me sneezed, and Michelle rolled her eyes so hard I thought she was going to see her ancestors.

The tip jar? Empty. And not because people are stingy — because no one wants to fund terrorism.

Customer service? Michelle treats everyone like they just insulted her dog. Ask her for a straw and she throws it at you like she’s starting a duel. Ask for the check and she acts like she just discovered you owe her money from a past life. When she mischarges your tab — and she will — she’ll tell you, “That’s not my problem,” which is ironic since her job is literally to solve those problems.

And God help you if you try to joke around. Someone tried to lighten the mood with a dad joke. Michelle just stared at them, turned around, and muttered something that sounded like “I hope your gas tank is empty.” I think laughter is physically painful for her. 1 Star, and that's...

I want to say first and foremost, this is a safe business in a safe area and the following was 100% an anomaly that does not reflect what anyone should expect for this business or area, risk wise. With that being said, it must be told.

Michael M., one of the security guards, saved me from going to the hospital, and potentially my life, one night.

After the bar had closed, I was approached by an extremely inebriated individual in the parking lot who attempted to attack me, unprovoked, with a rusty metal drywall tool/blade he found in the dumpster/trash area.

Before I could even process what he was saying and attempting, Michael approached him from behind, put him in a head/arm lock and escorted the attacker to the other side of the building, off the premises, and alerted the authorities when he continued to linger in the immediate vicinity. His quick actions prevented an outcome I would prefer not to imagine.

Needless to say, the employees here go above and beyond for the customers. Also, the drinks are reasonably priced. If the owner reads this, feel free to contact me to corroborate my story and give Michael a WELL...

Was visiting some family in Hillsborough so we thought we would head to Raleigh to check some places out. This was our first time at this establishment. At first everything seemed alright until we realized the Bartender would openly bad mouth patrons after they left. Regarding if they tipped, their attitude or even how they dressed! She also cared more about being on her phone posting to social media than actually making people feel welcome. Or just doing her Job in general. Bad attitude, fake personality, and has that kind of "I'll call the cops and make up stuff just to get attention" vibes. We don't want to say any names but I'm sure you know who this post is talking about. We can't be the first to call this person out. Do better, hire better, treat...