You, Sir, Are A Master Debater

The other night I was privileged enough to bear witness to one of the great debaters of our time. For free! Can you imagine it? It was sort of like going to a local outdoor basketball court and finding Michael Jordan shooting hoops or like going to a local hockey rink and getting a chance to watch Wayne Gretzky play shinny. It was that rare of an opportunity! For the few brief moments while I got to watch this man at the height of the debating craft I was in awe.

But wait, I should back it up a little bit and give you some premise.

So there I was on a Friday night in the casino. It was actually a slower Friday than what we in the casino biz are used to. I welcomed it, though, because it made for a more leisurely and pleasant pace in which to toil away.

At one point in the evening one of the cocktail waitresses on duty approached me to tell me about a customer who was being quite rude with her every time he placed an order for drinks. Because of his continued rudeness she decided that it was in her best interests to refuse him further service, which meant that if he wanted to get a drink he would have to go up to the bar to get it himself. Stuff like this happens from time to time. Customers who have been drinking can become a little ornery and unpleasant to have to deal with.

As the cocktail waitress was telling me the story about this man who should approach us where we were standing? That's right, the very man in question! Fireworks were about to fly. You could just look at the situation developing in front of you and just know this was two great pugilists about to do some mighty verbal battling over a refusal of service.

The man starts in with something like, "Hey, did you bring me those beers that I ordered?"

I should note that most of these quotes aren't verbatim because my memory isn't photographic.

The cocktail waitress then explains to him, "No, I did not bring the beers you ordered because as I already told you I'm not going to serve you any more."

"Why not?"

"Because you were quite rude to me."

And this was the moment in the little verbal exchange when you could see our man's eyes light up. She left an opening in the lane and he was coming in for the slam dunk to end all slam dunks.

Now this part is verbatim because you can't even willingly wipe these sorts of counterpoints from your memory even if you tried.

He came back at her explaining to him that he was rude to her with, "Well, whatever, you're ugly."

OHHHHHHHH SNAP!

I'm not sure how our cocktail waitress found the intestinal fortitude to refuse him service after a counter-argument like that, but she did. I guess that goes to show the power of her conviction. You just don't fuck with her like that. She'll throw down!

But seriously, guy, "Well, whatever, you're ugly?" How the hell is that going to convince the waitress that she should continue to serve you drinks? Is this some sort of transcendental form of reverse psychology that you picked up in your years and years as the captain of your high school debate club?

Now, if you had, say, apologized for being rude earlier. Maybe even tip the girl for her trouble. Don't you think that would have gone much further than insulting her in regards to getting her to bring you beers? Then again, I never was big on debate in high school, though, trust me, "Well, whatever, you're ugly," is now going in my big book of utility comebacks for arguments all shapes and sizes. It's comeback gold. Believe you me.

Secondly, I'm no expert on ugliness, but I'm pretty sure that if I had polled the people in the casino which person was more attractive, you or the cocktail waitress, I'm pretty sure that all the men would find her more attractive. And the women too. It's one of those pot calling the kettle black kind of stories I guess.

And, just between you and me, if you considered letting the blue jeans ride a bit lower than 4 inches below your armpits you might have a more successful time with the ladies in general. They weren't blue jeans, they were an adventure.