It was Monday night around eight o'clock. The restaurant was dead. There were hardly any people in there eating at the time. A tall, heavy-set man walked in the door and headed straight for the bar. He leaned over the counter and waited. The manager, who had been behind the bar cashing out a server who was anxiously waiting to go home, turned to the man and greeted him with a hello.

"The bartender will be right out to help you sir," he said, returning to his screen where he had originally been. Not two seconds later, the bartender came walking into the bar and went straight up to the man.

"Have you been helped yet, sir?" she asked.

"No, not yet," the man said in a disquisted voice. That comment alone was enough to suggest the man wasn't going to be easy to take care of. She headed to the other side of the bar and grabbed a menu for the man to look at. As she turned to place it in front of him, she was stopped dead in her tracks.

"I don't need a damn menu," he said. "I know exactly what I want."

"Ok then," she responded, still trying to be somewhat friendly. "What can I get for you?"

"I want all-you-can-eat shrimp. I want all of them fried. I want a baked potato with just butter on the side, half of a salad with no cucumbers and thousand island dressing, also on the side. I want you to bring me two biscuits and I want a diet coke to drink...but I don't want you to get it from the fountain you have behind the bar. I want you to go to the soda fountain in the back and get it from there. And while you are back there, fill up a pitcher of diet coke as well. I drink a lot when I eat."

"Are you sure that's all you want?" the girl responded.

By now, she was beyond the point of being nice. She just wanted to get him in and out, with as little conversation as possible. She took the man's order and rang it in, then immediately went to the back to get his salad. She made the salad herself, making sure she accomplished his every request. She grabbed his two biscuits and headed back up front. As she approached the bar, she noticed her manager was back up there once again. He was wiping up a water spot that had been left on the bar.

"I would have just asked the bartender to do it, but she hasn't been up here for quite a while now," said the man.

The bartender took a deep breath, and placed his salad in front of him. She set the bread down to the right of him and immediately walked away. She was minutes away from exploding on him. She desperately wanted to mention the fact that the water spot had come from the entire of pitcher of diet coke that he had previously requested, and if he wouldn't have been so picky, she probably wouldn't have been gone so long. Instead, she turned to the pile of dishes that she had left behind. As she started to watch each glass individually, the cranky old man critiqued her work.

"How can you possibly be getting those dishes clean?" the man asked. "All you are doing is running them over that brush and then dipping them into a bunch of different sinks full of water."

"Trust me, they're clean," she responded. Normally she would have gone on to explain how each sink was filled with a different sanitizer and by doing that, they get cleaner than if she were to run them through a dishwasher. But she felt it was best if she just left it alone.

By now the man was starting to get a clue. He remained quiet for the remainder of the meal. He eventually asked for his bill and pulled out his credit card. The bartender ran his credit card and placed the slips in front of him.

"Have a good night, sir," she said before returning to her dishes.

He signed both copies and started to head for the door. "Thanks for putting up with me," he said with a chuckle.

After work, the bartender headed straight home and pulled out her bookbag. She spent the next few hours doing homework. She studied harder that night than she ever had before. It was people like that who motivated the girl to get done with school. Bartending was definitely not how she wanted to spend the rest of her life.