Olive And Let Die

I bartend at a higher-end steakhouse. The place is packed, and I am working, head down, whipping up drinks with no end in sight. Some customer stumbles over and start snacking on the drink garnishes. I look up and see that he has a mouthful of olives.

Me: *Politely but sternly.* “Bud… this stuff isn’t for you.”

In response, he flicks the olive juice off his fingers at my face.

The general manager at our place is a 6’7″ tank and happened to see it. He actually picked the dude up, took him out the back, and just… placed him in the alley.

General Manager: “Don’t come back. Ever.”