So this is a bar, is it?

A few months ago, I was in one of my favourite watering holes and my friends and I were sitting at our usual table. It was also someone’s birthday and the dress code was white. They had reserved tables for themselves, decked in white cloth and pink lace.

After a couple of hours, some of my friends drifted away and I could see the White Party People were running out of tables of their own. They had under calculated how many tables they needed.

I was in a deep and private conversation with a friend when one of the ushers of the party started walking towards us with three gentlemen. She waved towards the empty spot on my table.

“You may sit here guys. Please make yourselves comfortable and have a great time”.

She did not look at us nor ask us if we minded. Fortunately, I have a mouth.

“What do you think you’re doing?”, I asked her.

“There’s no space so I’m putting our guests here”, she answered.

“I don’t care about your space”, I said candidly. “I don’t know you or these men. How dare you come here without our permission?”

“Excuse me”, she sneered. “First of all, this is our party. We have booked the place. Secondly, this is a bar”. Whatever that means.

Excuse me!” I corresponded eagerly. “This is our table. You didn’t book it!”.

With a fling of her hair, she strolled away. The men behaved in a less Neanderthal like fashion.

“We’re really sorry”, they said. “We don’t know what’s going on. They just invited us and now they’re putting us on tables and we have no clue what to do”.

“Such a pity”, I consoled them. “I’m sure you’re good guys but your whatever-she-is has behaved so badly I’m not letting you sit here”.

I looked for the manager, engaged in a short conversation and they were gone.

People underestimate the importance of good manners. If she had asked, I’d have taken care of her friends myself.

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