I was busy cleaning glassware at the Sports Bar, when I heard the bang of a shot glass being slammed on the bar, followed by someone slurring, “how longsit gon fuckin’ take to get a fuckin’ shot ‘round here. I don’t have all fuckin’ night. You! Get me a Jolly Rancher shot.”

I looked up from behind the bar and was face to face with a genuine asshole. One who orders drinks like Jolly Ranchers, nonetheless. For practicality’s sake, we’ll call him Wentworth.

Right away, I recognized Wentworth as an example of how not to behave at a bar.

“Sorry man,” I said. “I’m actually not a bartender, I’m a barback, so I can’t make any drinks.”

“Well,” Wentworth responded, “I’ve been waiting for, like, five minutes. So gemmee a bartender!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But look around. There are, like, 50 people waiting for drinks and 3 bartenders. They’ll get to you eventually.”

Wentworth’s fashionably torn jeans and porcupine-esque gelled hair seethed with disbelief and anger. Being from Jericho, L.I., no one had ever said “no” to him before. Who was I to deny him something that he wanted? How dare I? Did I not see that he had not one, but two popped collars?

Being pushy at a bar will get you nowhere. If you treat the people who work behind the bar like shit, in general, you’re less likely to get your drink in a timely manner.

Finally, receiving his flavorful concoction of womanhood, the fellow muttered something along the lines of, “took long enough,” to the bartender, and then left without tipping.

Bartenders (and barbacks for that matter) live off of tips. Tipping is a common courtesy, and bartenders remember the people who don’t do it. If you can afford the Armani Exchange wife beater that you had surgically grafted to your tanning-booth-orange skin, then you can spare that extra couple of bucks.

Finishing his mom’s drink of choice, Wentworth proceeded to accuse another patron of staring at him the wrong way, and attempted to start a fight. But before he could throw a punch, he was puking all over the dance floor.

Security was on its way to remove him from the bar within a minute.

There is nothing worse than being the sloppy asshole at a bar. Well, almost nothing …

Noting that Wentworth’s vomit looked sort of purplish, his friends realized that he had gotten sloppy drunk off drinks that barely require a proof. “Chick Drink,” they chanted at him as he was being dragged away.

Never one to stand for such injustice, Wentworth attempted to save his dignity by struggling to break free of the bouncers who were removing him.

That is by far the worst thing you can do at a bar …

Bloody, bruised and demoralized, Wentworth was released from county jail the next day. During his night in jail, Wentworth found out what a Jolly Rancher really is.

Graham Kates is a junior political science major. His favorite Jolly Rancher flavor is, by far, watermelon, if anyone is interested.