Your Biggest Bugbear

(It is my last week working as a waiter at a nice restaurant/bar before heading off to college. Late Friday afternoon, eight men in suits and ties come in for food and drinks. A couple minutes after serving their cocktails, one of them calls me to the table, stands up, and starts shouting.)

Customer: “What’s the meaning of this? There’s a bug in my drink!”

Me: “I’m so sorry sir. I’ve never seen that happen before.”

(For the next five minutes he rants and raves. I apologize every time he’ll let me get a word in, but he won’t let up. He’s apparently trying to impress his companions, but they’re all rolling their eyes in embarrassment at his hysterics. Finally, he reaches the end of his tantrum.)

Customer: “You should be fired for serving a drink with a bug in it. It’s completely unacceptable. Take this back and bring me another one. Get me another one, right now!”

Me: “Certainly, sir. Of course.”

Me: *turns to leave, hesitates, turns back to the customer* “To make sure I’ve got this right, sir, is that another bug or another drink you would like?”

Customer: “…”

Companions: *burst out laughing*

(The customer turns red. He never said another word. The group left me a nice tip.)