The Opposite Of Happy Hour

I am serving a table of two women for a few hours. They’re having a great time and getting pretty drunk. Nothing unusual, as I work at an Irish pub. 

Eventually, a man sits at the table with them, one of their husbands. I walk over and ask if I can get them any drinks and they order a round. When I come back out, the table is completely silent. I go back to the little staff area outside on the patio a few metres away. I then hear the man at the table absolutely rip into his wife; she has been cheating on him. She starts sobbing. Her sister looks incredibly uncomfortable and comes over to ask me for a lighter so she can go have a smoke.

I have to stand idly by and listen in great discomfort as a marriage dissolves in front of me. The husband accuses her of cheating with her coworker and pulls up the texts to prove it. She says it means nothing; he disagrees. He eventually tells her he will leave her.

They all get up to go, forgetting the $80+ tab they still have running with me. I awkwardly have to ask them to pay it. They tip me poorly, definitely not enough for someone who just waited on their very public and messy divorce.