This is a short tale from about seven years ago at an upscale pub I’ve previously posted about.
It’s a Sunday morning, and one of our regulars ® has come in to collect the card he used for his tab after drunkenly forgetting it the previous night, and the following conversation takes place:
R: You cut me off last night.
Me: I did.
R: You didn’t cut (other regular) off.
Me: (other regular) wasn’t out in the street at 11 last night singing Thunderstruck at the top of his lungs.
R: ……fair enough.
And that, going against all the odds, is how a customer agreed with me that he’d had enough.