The thing about having a black eye is that it’s right out there for the world to see. I’m lucky mine isn’t worse, and it’s on the side of my face that is partially covered with bangs, so it blends into the shadows a bit.
I tried covering it up with makeup but that made it look even weirder.
It’s quite the topic around the bar though – rumors are flying. Everyone wants to know if I 86’d Sam for being involved.
Here’s the thing. Bar fights happen. You mix testosterone and alcohol, and at some point, sparks are gonna fly. Someone is gonna get punched. My rule is (and always has been) is that I kick out the person who threw the first punch. I don’t care who started it, I don’t care who finished it. I don’t care if it’s a regular customer or a first timer. Throw the first punch in my bar and you’re dead to me. I’ll never serve you again.
But I’m not about to 86 someone who defends himself. I don’t expect people to get punched and not react. That’s just not fair.
And no, I’m not changing that rule just because I got punched this time. I was dumb enough to jump in the middle, I deserve what I got.
So Sam is welcome to come back. Any time. The other guy? Never again. Not on my watch. Not all of my coworkers agree with my decision, but since I’m the one with the black eye, it’s my decision. They’ll live with it. The boss laughed and made me promise to just throw a bucket of ice over a fight next time. Just as effective, less dangerous.