I came back from doing the thing that I did and rejoined him at the bar only he was in a different seat by then, I sat to his left, his seat was directly in front of the dishwasher. The thing about sitting directly in front of the dishwasher is you have to practice being a gentleman, if you wish to be a gentleman because the dishwasher sits low and the cut of the bartenders' tops usually sit low so when they are loading or unloading the dishwasher you sometimes can see down the front of what they are wearing. Or so I'm told because I always glance away or maintain a very focused eye contact with them if I happen to be talking to them.

So, I sat next to my friend who is deaf as a haddock and blind as a bat and he leaned over to me and rather loudly said "She's wearing a baby blue bra" as he pointed, without looking, over the bar. I thought he knew she was standing right there because he seemed to be making no secret of what or who he was talking about. So, me being me, I said "I'm sorry" which is always what I say if I miss what was said. I thought I heard most of what he said but I was curious if I heard him correctly because I didn't know why he would be telling me such a thing.

He repeated himself just as loudly and this time he pointed more emphatically and it so happened that he actually ended up pointing right at her cleavage, only this time he sort of followed through with a look in the direction of his point. His jaw dropped when he saw her standing there and once he gathered himself a little he began to apologize. And then he turned to me and asked why I didn't tell him she was there. I told him I thought he knew.

After awhile she let him off the hook and told him they dress like that on purpose because it helps with the tips.

As another bartender came in I asked our current bartender to cash us out, because she should have to split tips with someone who just started when she's been serving us all day. My friend saw the receipt and asked me if we were settled with the bar.

"Yeah, we are, up to that beer in front of you."

"Did you leave a tip?"

What the fuck kind of question is that? is what raced through my head but he was having a bad day with choosing his words so I let it slide. I looked to our bartender who had heard the question and she looked back at me as I said "No! I didn't because the service here sucked" rolling my eyes as I nodded my head in my friend's direction. But really what kind of question is that and he's always telling me I tip too much. He's the one that figures out twenty percent no matter how long we've been sitting there, no matter how many free beers we get, no matter that we don't have to ask for the free nachos, no matter that sometimes they don’t even make him walk up to the free buffet but fix him a plate before they bring the food out for everyone else.

No, I didn't tip. This was the one day I decided to screw over the bartender on the very day you so blatantly point out that you've been looking down her shirt, the shirt of someone younger than your youngest child. Yeah, I'm the asshole. How many horrible things are you going to say today?

Before our bartender left he tipped her again. I guess the low cut tops do help with the tips.