The Pitcher is Half-Full
During my childhood neighbor's wedding reception, my dad asked me to go to the open bar and refill a pitcher of beer. I must have been in around 3rd or 4th grade at the time since it was before my family moved and got new neighbors. The happy couple was getting married in a VFW Hall. It never occurred to me or anyone else in Wisconsin that I was doing anything illegal. After all, I was simply getting a refill for the table; it's not like I was going to crawl under the stage and drink it myself. The ladies working behind the bar didn't see it that way. They looked at each other when I asked for beer. Their hesitation was lost on me. They asked why I wanted the beer and I said it was for my dad. In their VFW Hall wisdom, they agreed to fill the pitcher up halfway. I did not leave a tip, and everyone at my parents' table was confused when I returned with only half the pitcher.
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